God’s grace compels us to ask ourselves, “Who is it who struggles with feelings of unworthiness? Who is society denying, demeaning, pushing to the margins?  Who is it in our day who needs to believe in the presence of God, for them?” 

The Rev. Art Halbardier
   St. Luke, Evangelist
   texts: Luke’s Gospel; Isaiah 43:8-13

Learning about Luke the evangelist is a bit like tracing your family tree. For some points, you have documentation. Facts. For other points, you have fairly reliable evidence, perhaps some stories told you by your parents and grandparents. But most family trees will still have large “gray areas.” These “gray areas” must be filled in through inference, deduction, even guessing…educated or otherwise.

“Large gray areas” comprise much of what we know about Luke. Learning about Luke the evangelist is largely a matter of piecing together scraps of evidence.

In the fact category, we know that Luke was not one of the 12, probably not even one of the larger group of Jesus’ disciples. He does not claim to have known Jesus. Luke is clear in the verses we read, he is, rather, a careful reporter of what true eyewitness told him. Very likely, Luke was a gentile convert to Christianity, possibly evangelized by St. Paul. Paul mentions Luke traveling with him in several passages.

Obviously, Luke was well-educated; his use of the Greek language is rich and precise. Luke may have been a medical doctor; In one passage, Paul calls Luke “the beloved physician.” Luke is best known as the patron saint of physicians and surgeons. But he is also the patron of a lot of other folks: bookbinders, brewers, and butchers; of glass makers, glassworkers, gold smiths, lacemakers, and notaries (not sure how notaries fits this list, but there you are); Luke is also the patron of painters, sculptors, and stained glass workers… and, while we’re at it, the patron of the towns of Capena, Italy, and Hermersdorf, Germany. All of which makes Luke one very busy saint, looking after the welfare of so many.

Legend has it that Luke was also the first iconographer. He founded the tradition of painting icons on wooden boards, a tradition iconographers still follow. But Luke’s were very special boards. His first icons were painted on the boards of the very table used at  the Last Supper. Maybe…

Because of the connection of St. Luke with the medical profession, worship on St. Luke’s Feast often includes special prayers for healing of the body, mind and soul, as well as the rite of anointing.

But, Luke himself never speaks of himself as a physician. Luke’s gospel does not emphasize Jesus’ healing of the sick any more than do the other three.

But, Luke’s Gospel is about healing. Luke tells of God’s determination to heal a malady in us more life-threatening than physical disease. Diseases can only sicken or kill us. What vexes us is much, much worse.

We didn’t learn much from that odd Gospel reading today. We read only the first four verses and the final nine verses of Luke’s gospel. We didn’t take the time to read the 23 chapters between…for which, perhaps you are glad. But those 23 chapters are critical.

They reveal a God who will not rest until each one of us who is lost has been found. They tell of God who will let nothing stand in the way of healing the broken relationship between God and you and me.

No matter whether it’s our own rebellious choices, or whether we have simply lost our way in life. God refuses to accept the notion that any one of us is worthless or unredeemable, even if society has judges us so or others demean us to the point that we believe it.

God simply will not put up with pain or hopelessness in any one of us. God will heal the cause of whatever separates us from God, and will have it no other way, no matter the cost.

There is no single passage that declares this to be Luke’s purpose, per se. But that agenda becomes plain and clear in the course of those twenty-three chapters. The evidence is there. But it is a matter of piecing together scraps of evidence, much as one may have to do to fill in the gaps in our family tree.

Scholars tell us Mark was the first gospel. That Matthew and Luke came later, and used much of Mark’s Gospel in their writing. But Matthew and Luke added additional material of their own. That special material is a strong clue to their particular message.

Luke recounts 23 parables of Jesus. 16 of these are parables that appear only in Luke. These special parables, and various encounters and incidents that only are included by Luke help us understand Luke’s particular understanding of God. Luke paints a portrait of God tirelessly and indiscriminately at work to heal relationships with the lost. [1] 

For example, Luke tells the story of a time Jesus attended a posh dinner party. A woman comes in where the men are dining. Not just any woman. A notoriously sinful woman, a woman shunned by her community because of the life she has led – this woman invades the dinner party and commences to wash the feet of Jesus with her tears and dry his feet with her hair, and then anoints Jesus’ feet with a expensive ointment.

Jesus’ stuffy dinner companions are aghast! But Jesus holds the woman up to these pompous types as an example of genuine faith. He forgives her past sins and gives her a tender blessing to boot. The stuffy types were not pleased. But that’s the way God’s love works – accepting the lost and castaway, and not holding their past sins over them.

Luke also gives us Jesus’ parable of a man who falls among thieves and is left for dead on the road to Jericho. He’s alive, but regarded as beyond hope and way too much trouble to bother with by passers-by, even a priest and a Levite. But a kind Samaritan sees his hopeless state, and makes sure the man is cared for until he is healed.

Luke recounts the parable of a shepherd with a flock of 100 sheep who still searches long and hard for a single lost one, who then carries that sheep who caused him such trouble home on his shoulders rejoicing the whole way.

And he tells the parable of a woman who lights every lamp in the house and scours every inch of the floor to find a single lost coin.

And Luke is our source for the wonderful story of a father who waits year after year for his prodigal younger son to return.

Was the kid worth it?  No. The boy has wasted his life and his father’s fortune. With no options left, he heads for home, dirty, gaunt and dressed in rags, wasted away from hunger and lousy living. When his father glimpses him trudging up the road, he runs to embrace his son and throws a huge party to celebrate that he is back.

Then the parable turns attention to the father’s other son,  “Mr. Proper…Ne’er Does Wrong” – the older brother. Older brother’s nose is totally out of joint over his father throwing a party for that young loser. But his father loves this irritating son as much as the delinquent younger one, and begs him to come in, so the family can be whole again.

Luke shares one story after another in this vein: The “beautiful people” of society find poor Lazarus smelly and offensive and disgusting, covered with sores, lying there in the gutter outside the house where they are having a party. Yuk! But Lazarus is not ignored or disdained by God; when Lazarus dies, he is given a place of honor next to Abraham in heaven.

Luke recounts the parable of two men who come to the temple to pray. A Pharisee, who knows he is definitely a favorite of God, and spends his prayer time reminding God of how fortunate God is to have such a fine fellow on his side. Elsewhere in the temple is a tax collector. He has no friends, is hated by his own people due to his chosen profession, and knows he must be despicable and worthless to God as well. This one, Jesus says, went home justified in God’s sight.

Passing through Jericho, Jesus gets a glimpse of another hated tax collector, Zaccheus, and this fellow deserves to be hated. Zaccheus has gotten very rich by cheating his neighbors. Jesus invites himself to dinner at Zaccheus’ house, and this sad little fellow’s life is changed.
And so it goes, on and on. Luke recounts what he has learned: that God’s door is not shut to any one of us.

Society may have slammed doors in our face, we may feel adrift and directionless, it may even be that we have closed the door of our life to God. But God will not have it. God is relentless in loving, relentless in pursuing the lost, not because they deserve it, but simply because they are lost. No one is outside the reach of the healing love of God – and because that is true, that means even me. And you.

But, there is one more layer to all this good news. A difficult word pops up several times in our readings today, a word not to be ignored. The word is “witness.”

At one point a switch was thrown in the mind and heart of Luke, causing him to sideline his medical practice to become an “evangelist” – literally a “voice of the good news” – a “witness” to the truths he had come to know. In Isaiah, God reminds the people, “I have saved you!” “You are now my witnesses!” You are evidence of how I want to care for all people. Jesus, in the Gospel reading, tells the disciples whose minds have been opened by His resurrection, “Now you are witnesses of these things!”

We, who know of the amazing grace of God, how can we not also be witnesses to what we have come to know? The truth needs to get out: that God is searching out every person, and there is not one who does not matter.

We can witness to that truth through words, yes; but also through actions, attitudes, decisions we make, relationships we form or hang onto, even how we vote and use our money.

God’s grace compels us to ask ourselves, “Who is it who struggles with feelings of unworthiness? Who is society denying, demeaning, pushing to the margins?  Who is it in our day who needs to believe in the presence of God, for them?”

Luke leaves us with two questions, for our personal reflection today:

+ How, or when, have we personally felt this determined, indiscriminate, passionate, persistent love of God?
+ Where/ how is it that God would have us be the voice, the witness to that which we know?

[1] See Simon J. Kistemaker, The Structure of Luke’s Gospel; Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society 25/1 (March 1982), pp. 33-39.

The word of God both calls us to act and reminds us that we are enough. This is the tension in which we live, called into something new and scary and not yet knowing or understanding how to make it a reality. This is where God’s grace is found. 

Vicar Anna Helgen
   Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 28, year B
   text:  Mark 10:17-31

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

If Jesus were to walk through the doors here at Mount Olive, can you imagine yourself running up to him, kneeling at his feet, and saying, “Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” I can. Because I wonder about these things. Like you, I try to be a good person, to do the right thing by loving others, and to ensure that my future is in God’s hands. But I worry about what I’m forgetting, what I’m missing, and where my ignorance has gotten the best of me. We want to know that our relationship and life with God is promised both here and now and in the life to come. So this question of eternal life matters! As does Jesus’ answer.

In this brief interaction, we get a sense that this man trusts Jesus enough to enter into this dialogue. He’s led a faithful life and kept the commandments, and yet he wonders what is missing. “You lack one thing,” Jesus says.  “Go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.”

Those words are hard to hear: You’re too focused on yourself and your own accumulation of things. It’s time for a change! Opportunities for relationship abound and you’re missing them!

We can relate. We too have many possessions–in comparison to the rest of the world–and it’s easy for us to get caught up in our own lives, in our own worries, concerns, and ideologies. We feel anxious about entering this future that God calls us to because it’s hard to imagine what it would be like to sell all our things and give the money to the poor. But is that all this passage is about? Does Jesus simply ask us to cash out our IRAs and piggy banks, empty our homes of our belongings, and then follow him?

Hebrews provides some help here. “The word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing until it divides soul from spirit, joints from marrow; it is able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart.” The words of Jesus cut deep. They have this wonderful ability to expose us and help us see who we truly are. To feel our brokenness and vulnerability. To uncover our fears. And also to help us imagine a new reality that comes into being as we live into our relationship with God and with others.

On the one hand, these words from Jesus convict us. In order to be in relationship with Jesus, to follow him and have eternal life, we need to change the way we handle our wealth. “How hard it will be for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!” “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.”

This is a call to act! But I’m not sure I can do what Jesus asks of me nor am I sure I want to. I like my things. My canoe. My car. A home to call my own. My dad taught me to save money for the future, and now I’m being asked to give it all away? That is scary. What if I can’t do it? Am I a bad person? Will Jesus still love me? Will there still be room for me in God’s kingdom? This man, no doubt, has these same questions. Jesus’ words pierce his soul and leave him feeling uncertain and sad. If this is required of us, then we all fall short.

On the other hand, these words from Jesus come from a place of love. Did you catch that detail? Before Jesus says these words, he looks down at the man who kneels before him, sees his truth, and loves him, just as he is.  After all, he knows a few things about what it’s like to live in this world. To give up what makes us comfortable, what secures our future, and what makes life easy. It is out of love that Jesus provides words of guidance that will help this man to be better. Advice that will help him along the way. Like a good teacher, Jesus doesn’t trick, shame, or belittle this man. Instead, he helps him to imagine a new way of living in the world.

So what are we to do? The word of God both calls us to act and reminds us that we are enough. I find this tension remarkable. And I love that we aren’t sure what happens with this man, who lives within this very tension. Does he go away grieving because he is too tied to his stuff and cannot give up his own abundance? Or is he grieving because he realizes that in order to embark on this new adventure, he will need to leave his old life behind. We don’t know.

I find great comfort and hope in this because it’s often where I find myself: in the uncertainty. Standing on the edge of change, with one foot in the past and one in the future. Being called into something new and scary and not yet knowing or understanding how to make it a reality. This is where God’s grace is found.

We don’t know what this man decides to do, but we know that Jesus gives him the freedom to make his own decision in his own time. To take the first step. To take a chance, a risk. God gives us freedom to listen for the Spirit to speak in our lives and move our hearts to action. And all the while, we are loved, just as we are.

The thought of having to change is scary because it means stepping out from the easy and comfortable and into the unknown. But when we take that first step, we realize that this is where there is meaning. Where we find life, hope, and grace. We notice the person at the highway entrance ramp and instead of quickly passing by, we open our wallet, exchange a sign of peace, and smile. We give a little more to the young woman who rings the doorbell raising money to save the honeybees. We remember to fill up bags for the epilepsy foundation and leave them at the doorstep. We give up our need to be better than another. We share our hearts.

Perhaps this man asked the wrong question when he ran up to Jesus. There is nothing we can do to inherit eternal life because an inheritance is something that is given. Our present and future life with God belongs to us now. And we, like this man, are already on the road with Jesus. We can approach him at any time. As we follow him and learn to live into this future that God calls us to, it becomes clear that Jesus invites us to be generous. Not because we have to in order to be in relationship or to secure our eternal destiny, but because it is better for us. It is life-giving.

By sharing our abundance, we learn to trust God and live like we believe God’s promises. We enter into relationships with people different than us. We find new opportunities to give and serve. We see all God’s people as worthy and in need of love and care. In the topsy turvy upside-down world of the gospel, to live fully in God’s kingdom we are called to share in the struggles with our neighbors, where the first are last and the last are first, where all are welcomed, valued, and loved. And, in all our attempts, in our successes and failures, in our certainty and doubt, God walks with us, leads us, and loves us. Just as we are.

Amen.

We find no life playing games with God’s law, no loopholes to sneak through; our only hope is to recognize our utter dependence and vulnerability and turn to Christ Jesus for welcome, forgiveness and newness of life.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
   Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 27, year B
   texts:  Mark 10:2-16; Hebrews 1:1-4, 2:5-12

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

If you want a fight over God’s law, don’t pick it with the Son of God.

If you want a fight for a loophole to avoid the harshness of God’s law, don’t pick it with the Son of God, either.

But if your fight helps you harm someone who is already vulnerable, and endanger their well-being, well, you really, really do not want to pick such a fight with the Son of God.

Would that these religious leaders had such wisdom. They were testing Jesus, and that meant what it means today, asking a hot topic question hoping to trip him up.

They knew the Torah permitted divorce. Their trap involved a debate between two schools of Jewish thought at the time. One permitted divorce only under extreme circumstances, like adultery. The other argued a man could divorce his wife for almost any perceived fault, including, according to one rabbi, spoiling the evening meal or no longer appealing to him. [1]

Jesus wanted nothing of this debate. Their mistake was picking the fight. Because if you argue the law of God with the Son of God, he will give you God’s law. And you won’t like it.

Jesus takes them to school and leaves them no loopholes, no mercy.

You can’t dodge God’s command, he says. God doesn’t ever want divorce. Read the Scriptures.

But Jesus isn’t done. By Jewish law, only a man could initiate divorce. He could give his wife a letter of dismissal from his rabbi, and she was out. The debate was about what criteria were needed.

Jesus ignores Jewish law, saying, “If a man divorces his wife,” and adding, “and if a woman divorces her husband.” He’s already said God doesn’t want divorce. Now he speaks as if that applies to men and women. This was so far from reality that when Matthew and Luke tell this story, basing their account on Mark’s, they delete the line about a woman divorcing her husband. “Like that could ever happen,” we imagine them thinking.

Jesus still isn’t done. Not only is divorce outside of God’s will, whether a man does it or a woman, he says, if they re-marry, they’re committing adultery.

This is why you don’t pick a fight with Jesus over God’s law. You go in looking for loopholes, hoping to trap him, and you leave with a law so stringent, so airtight, you’re far worse off than when you started.

We can’t return and warn the Pharisees. But we should heed this warning.

If we want to play the law game, Jesus seriously outclasses us. We can argue about interpreting these words on divorce till we’re blue in the face, whether Jesus meant that divorced people must remain single forever, whether there are exceptions. We can correctly claim that Jesus was protecting women who were vulnerable to an unjust system. We can seek a creative way around an absolutely clear statement by the Son of God.

But we will always end with Jesus saying, God’s law is absolute. There’s no way around or through it.

And we knew this all along. No one really believes God wants divorce. No one delights in it when they do it, even if they think it’s the only option. I’ve never married a couple who said, “We can’t wait for our divorce.” If you’ve been divorced, nothing Jesus says here is a surprise.

But that goes for all of God’s law. There are lots of people in this room who every three years get to hear this reading and feel pain and guilt over their lives and their past. If you’ve been divorced, this isn’t a fun Sunday to be in church.

So let’s get everyone in this room feeling pain and guilt. There’s no reason only some of us should squirm. If you think you can somehow trick Jesus into saying the things you’ve done that were contrary to God’s will, against God’s law, are OK, or you’ve found a loophole, or they didn’t harm you or anyone else, or didn’t matter, well. You won’t win that fight, either.

Jesus will tighten our own trap until we can’t breathe. You want to justify hating and being angry with someone? He’ll say it’s murder. You want to pretend you’ve been faithful to your spouse just because you didn’t act on your fantasies? He’ll say if you thought it, you did it. This is the only outcome of playing the God’s law game. We can’t make God’s law fit our way of life. We always get caught.

So if this is a fight we can’t win and don’t want, what can we do? Lord, to whom shall we go?

We could notice Jesus doesn’t want this fight, either.

Jesus only gets harsh about the law of God when people do what these folks did, pick the fight, try to test, look for loopholes, step on others. He’s minding his own business when a woman caught in adultery is dragged in front of him. Instead of condemning her, Jesus condemns the whole crowd for their sins and gives a strong impression he knows what they are. This is the way it always goes.

But when Jesus preaches, he announces God’s reign is coming into this world, and it’s marked by forgiveness and grace. It’s a reign where the least are the greatest, where everyone is willing to serve others, where life is found in letting go of fights over right and wrong. He announces good news to the poor and oppressed, the downhearted and sinful. He goes out of his way to welcome into this reign of God people that the so-called “good” people have written off as lost causes.

If we really want to know what to do, we could notice this is the way the Son of God prefers to work in the world. He shows this by what he does next.

Jesus takes a child into his arms and says, “this is how you come to God.”

If you want to come to God with your arguments and self-righteousness, if you think you can finesse your way past God’s law and God’s standards, you will soon find out how impossible that is.

But if you’re willing to admit you are as vulnerable and dependent as any child, as vulnerable and dependent as those wives they were debating throwing away like so much trash, if you’re willing to be that weak, well. I’ve got good news for you, Jesus says. I came for people just like you.

Do you see? Jesus says to us. You can’t argue your way around what God asks of you. God wants us to love God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength. God wants us to love our neighbor as ourselves. These will be the hardest things we have ever done. There are no loopholes, no shortcuts. We will fail at both these commandments, and fail often.

But I have come that you will not fail, Jesus says. When you admit your weakness, your dependence on my mercy, your inability to live up to God’s will, I will take you into my arms, always forgive you, and set you down again with the strength and courage to love God and love neighbor with every breath of your being.

That’s the true Good News of God the Son of God wants us to know.

To show us this, Hebrews says today, the Triune God in Christ became the most vulnerable and dependent of all. Instead of supporting those who would crush others by their interpretation of God’s law while seeking loopholes for themselves, Christ Jesus tasted death, Hebrews says, suffered completely, to become the pioneer, the guide, of our salvation.

He showed us that being vulnerable and dependent on God means being vulnerable and dependent on each other. While that opens us up to all sorts of pain and loss and daily death, he shows it’s also the path of life, of resurrection.

When we are willing to become the least, we find the true God has gotten there before us, and we begin to understand: love of God can only happen where God is, and that’s always with the least, the lost, the stepped upon in our midst. Love of neighbor begins there, too, when we see everyone as our neighbor to be served, everyone as worthy of our love and care.

Then we truly begin to understand God’s grace and truly begin to live.

This is the news we’ve desperately needed, the only news worthy of being called “good.”

There is no fight we want over God’s law, and God doesn’t want it, either. The healed, whole world the Triune God is making by taking on our life in the Son and making us new, is found when we become as children again, utterly dependent, utterly vulnerable, utterly loved and graced.

The reign of God belongs to such as these, Jesus says. What a relief it is to let go of our need to prove our righteousness, to let go of our fear of failure, to let go of all those things that cause us pain and guilt. We are loved, blessed children of God, and in that reality we are given strength and courage to live like the children of God we are.

God help us on this path, because we need this life. We want it. We long for it.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

[1] For more on this, see Donald H. Juel, Mark (The Augsburg Commentary on the New Testament), copyright © 1990 Augsburg Fortress; pp. 137-138.

For prayer to be what God intends, we need to see it as how we live in relationship with the Triune God who loves us and saves us.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
   Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 26, year B
   texts:  Numbers 11:4-6, 10-16, 24-29; Mark 9:38-50; James 5:13-20

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

Tell me what you look for in a close relationship with another person, and I’ll tell you what prayer could be for you.

We’re needlessly confused about prayer. If Scripture tells us anything about the Triune God it’s that God desires a true, abiding relationship with us.

Yet we stumble at the very place of connection in that relationship, what we call prayer. We reduce it to a question of access to a divine vending machine, instead of rejoicing in the astonishing gift God offers.

Words like James’ today sometimes get us off track, the invitation to pray for the sick, the claim that “the prayer of the righteous is powerful and effective.” From there we’re off to a conversation about whether prayer “works,” or claims about how God answers prayer. Once again we miss the point.

James doesn’t intend that direction. And from what we see in the two other readings, there is clearly a deeper wisdom about prayer we need to learn. It’s all about our relationship with God.

Now, there are at least three important things we want in a close relationship.

We want intimacy with the other person, a closeness of love and care. Intimacy has different shapes and levels, depending on the relationship. Without it, the relationship isn’t close.

We want better knowledge of the other, his point of view, her hopes and dreams, his moods, her wisdom. We want to learn about the other, and the other wants to learn about us, to understand each other better.

We want awareness of our actions and how they affect the relationship. To pay attention to what we do, whether it’s helpful or hurtful, and adjust. Sometimes we seek forgiveness, sometimes we forgive, to continue the relationship. Sometimes we change our behavior.

What we don’t see in our relationships is our usual view of prayer.

Talk of prayer devolves into questions of whether God hears or answers. We’re wise enough not to expect we’ll get everything we ask for. But listen to that sentence. We’d never say that about any good relationship. With how many close friends do you wonder, “Do I always get what I ask for?” Who’d want a friend whose only conversation was asking for things?

So why would God want that? As long as we treat prayer in terms of asking and answering, we miss everything God wants to be with us.

Moses and John today have actual relationship with God. All the elements we desire in close relationship are here. Were we to grasp this we could put two things on the shelf, never to take them up again. We could set aside forever the worthless question, “Does prayer work?” That’s a question we’d loathe in human relationships, we’d never ask it. Alongside it we could put the pat statement, “God always answers prayer, but not always as we want.” That always pushes us back into a mechanical, “what’s in it for me” view of prayer that hinders the true gift of relationship God offers.

So let’s look at Moses and John.

Moses is breathtaking today.

He didn’t want this job, tried to get out of it. Now, into the second year of the journey since Exodus, the people are a huge burden. Hungry, they complained and were fed by manna, heavenly food, given daily. A year into eating that, they long for meat, and complain again.

God’s furious, but it seems directed at Moses, not the people. Because Moses launches into this amazing rant: “why are you treating me so badly? Are these my people? How am I supposed to feed them? I can’t do this job anymore. Kill me if you think I’m bad at this, it would be a blessing.” It’s brilliant.

Look at this true relationship. This isn’t a prayer by Moses, asking for something from God. This is ongoing life together, God and Moses speaking to each other, being changed.

John also freely speaks his mind.

He’s concerned. He saw someone unknown to the disciples casting out demons in Jesus’ name. John said they tried to stop him, since they thought he was unauthorized.

John didn’t expect Jesus’ answer, though. First, Jesus says, if he’s doing powerful things in my name, he’s not likely to speak against me. (He could have added, the power to drive out demons comes from God so why are you concerned?) But second, he says, I’m more worried about the little ones, those following this person. You want a showdown with him, but you forget there are people following him, who perhaps believe in me through him, who could stumble. He also might be weaker in faith, did you consider that?

This is also a true relationship. John and Jesus are talking, learning about each other, being changed.

Those three elements of relationship are all here.

God initiates the conversation with Moses, interestingly. Prayer that starts with God. And Moses reveals a deep intimacy in his outburst. Only someone who trusts completely would be that open and honest about his pain and frustration. Learning happens, too. God listens to the rant, learns Moses is nearing the end of his rope, and says, so to speak, “that’s actually a good point”. God decides to fill 70 people with the Spirit to help Moses. There’s the third element. God’s the one, remarkably, whose action changes. Moses doesn’t have to apologize or even ask; God adjusts, does something different.

With John, Jesus learns he’s anxious to protect him, to make an us vs. them line he can defend. John learns Jesus has a completely different interest. Their intimacy increases with this knowledge, they get to know each other’s mind and heart better. But John’s challenged to change his action, not Jesus.

Jesus makes it clear to John one of his highest priorities is that we don’t block others from coming to him, and so to God. Whatever we do, we need to get rid of anything that might cause us or others to stumble, especially those most vulnerable to doubt. This isn’t quite “get behind me, Satan,” but John’s getting a strong sense doesn’t yet understand his Master.

Moses and John model for us true prayer: a relationship with the Triune God based on honesty, give and take of conversation, listening and speaking.

This is what we need for our journey of faith.

We’ve heard Jesus call us to his challenging path, to give up things, even our lives, and so find life. We’ve recognized the gift of each other on the path: because God’s Spirit flows in us, we are God’s grace and presence to each other on this journey.

But Moses and John remind us we’re also actually walking with God, and should take advantage of that. They invite us to a deeper awareness of our direct connection with the true God.

How different our journey would be if we were more aware every day of our constant companion on the path, our God who loves us. If we learned prayer as a way of getting to know God’s mind and heart better and God ours, a way of deepening intimacy and love with God, a way of considering our steps on the path, our behavior, and adjusting as needed.

This is the relationship we’ve longed for.

Thanks be to God, this is also the relationship God wants.

The Son of God taking on our own bodies meant we could envision a true relationship with God, one that could deepen and grow. It also was a sign of God’s abiding desire to be closer to us. The risk of death at our hands wasn’t enough to keep the Triune God from taking this step to make it possible for us to be in relationship. Relationship where we and God are changed, where we find grace in our companionship on the road.

There’s nothing more we needed for life and hope as we go together. We get to walk with God! Now the journey truly becomes life for us.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen