The way of the cross is only foolishness if we truly see it as our way, our path, not as a sign of dominance and power over others, or a mark of our rightness, our correct faith; Christ’s cross saves us and the world by calling us to the same giving up of power in order to love.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The festival of the Holy Cross, Sunday, September 14, 2014
texts:  1 Corinthians 1:18-24; John 3:13-17

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 message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.”

In 312, the Roman general and tetrarch Constantine, fighting a civil war to consolidate his sole imperial rule, looked into the sun and saw the sign of the cross.  That night in a dream, God told him that with this sign – “in hoc signo” in Latin – he would defeat Maxentius the next day in battle in the city of Rome.  His soldiers won that battle with the sign of the cross painted on their shields.

There is much of legend to this story.  What is not in dispute is that Constantine began a whole new era for Christianity.  Under his rule, Christianity became the state religion of the empire, and very quickly developed a taste for power, military might, control.  A once marginalized group of believers following an executed Savior, who shared things in common, who consistently held that Christians could not take up arms, could not kill, who had allegiance to God alone and to no earthly ruler, became the power behind and in front of one of the greatest empires the world has known.  Rules for just war replaced committed peacemaking.  Seven centuries later, Christian knights with the cross painted on their shields and emblazoned on their surcoats laid a path of destruction and death across Europe and the Near East in holy wars.

“We proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles.”

The world doesn’t think it foolish to bear the cross as a symbol of power over others.  If you’ve got something that gives you power, wield it, use it.  The Church has justified its shared bed with military and political power for centuries, sometimes saying it is God’s will, sometimes as a practical way to preserve the institution, sometimes because we like having power and might, being winners.

The proclamation of Jesus’ cross was a stumbling block to Jews because they couldn’t imagine the one true God so debased, so lowly as to assume human form and be tortured to death.  It was blasphemy, horrific.  Their theology couldn’t permit God to do such a thing.

The proclamation of Jesus’ cross was foolishness to Gentiles because they would see it hysterical that this pathetic group of believers were following someone who didn’t have enough sense to avoid a humiliating public execution. Their philosophy couldn’t permit such ridiculousness.

To the extent that we can’t see the stumbling block of the cross to our theology and understanding of God and God’s will, to the extent that we can’t see how foolish it is compared to the way we work in the world, to that extent we are no longer hearing the message of the cross.

“Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world?”

How can we tell if we live by the wisdom of the world, are bound to our view of God?  If we find ourselves always needing people to adjust to us, find it difficult not to think of our own needs before those of others.  Or if we cannot conceive of faith in a God who does not bless our every move, or in a God who would ask us to let go of things we think give us security.

If we believe everything we have is ours, and deserved, and if we feel gracious and good, we might share a little.  Or if, when anything bad happens, we blame God for not preventing, not protecting properly, as if we are entitled to good because we believe in God correctly.

If we seek security in providing for ourselves what we think we need, wealth, protection, barriers to those in the world we fear.  Or if we expect God’s primary job is to ensure we never have to worry about losing anything.

That’s how we can tell.  We don’t need to carry shields with the cross on them to act as if being a Christian somehow entitles us to the best of everything, without fear of tragedy.  We don’t need to carry a sword to live with a world view that we should be in charge because we belong to Christ Jesus, and that way we will impose on our families, our community, our world.  We don’t even need a cross on our flag, because we’ve found a way to wrap the American flag around the Christian faith and march it into the world as if we really don’t hope for an eternal life yet to come; this country is God’s greatest dream.

Maybe we’re not always so extremely bad off.  But is there anything about how we practice our Christian discipleship that others can mock as foolish or naïve?  Is there anything about how we believe in God that challenges a hope in God as a divine vending machine of favor?

If our way of Christian discipleship starts making sense to our culture, starts sounding like every other get rich scheme, every other way to dominance, we know we’ve lost our path.  If we say things like, “that’s going to cost us,” or, “won’t we be taken advantage of,” we’ll know we’re on the right path.

“The Son of Man must be lifted up, that whoever believes in him might have eternal life.”

This is how we know we’re on the path of true discipleship: if it leads to the foot of the cross, to where we look up and see our Lord lifted up for the life of the world.  Not lifted up as a triumph over all the wrong people.  Lifted up, as he will say later, to draw all people to himself.

The way of the cross is opposite to the way of the world, but it will save the world.  Because as those who see him lifted up allow themselves to be lifted up, cut down, walked on, for the sake of others, then the world of power over others, of domination and might, will start to crumble from below and eventually fall.

Do you now see the stumbling block?  We don’t get to tell God what to do and what not to do, we only get to decide if we’re going where God has already gone, into disreputable places and places of loss.  We’re often unwilling to lose even with those we love most, in our families, to say nothing of the world.

Do you now see the foolishness?  We stop caring about protecting our institution of the church, our congregation, ourselves, even God.  We lose interest in winning arguments or proving that we’re right or forcing others not to mock us.  This path doesn’t lead to an impressive, powerful institution people have to respect or fear.

But given that any good Christians have done in the last 2,000 years has come from believers willing to lose all for the sake of the other, and most evil Christians have done in the last 2,000 years has come from believers trying to work by the world’s rules of power and might, by a theology of a dominating, crushing God, does that tell us anything?

“When we eat of this bread and drink of this cup, we proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.”

The cross marks our lives, our worship, our faith precisely as a reminder of Jesus’ death, and ours.  It’s not our prize to wave in the world’s face.  It is our life, it is our salvation.  But Jesus makes abundantly clear it is also our path.

So when we bow as the cross is carried before us in procession, is it to a magic talisman, a sign of our triumph and rightness?  No, it is in humble recognition of the path it lays before us.  It is a sign of our willingness to walk this path.

When we mark ourselves with the cross with our own hands is it some sort of protective charm, hope of God’s favor?  No, it is drawing on our very bodies the shape of the life we are called to live, so we don’t forget.

When we proclaim at every Eucharist the death of Christ Jesus is it some morbid obsession?  No, it is our way.  Regular reminder is the only way to continually focus ourselves on the path we walk with Christ, a path of loss and death.

“The message of the cross is foolishness . . . but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.”

We seek power in losing power, because that’s what God does.  We see strength in weakness, because that’s how God works.  We see victory in losing, because that’s how God wins.  It’s foolishness.  But this foolish, stumbling block truth about the way the Triune God really works in the world is life.  We know because we have seen it.  Felt it.  Been moved by it.  Perhaps only in little glimpses, in moments of clarity, or in seeing it lived in another person.  But in those glimpses we saw truth and life.

What we need is for God to help us get beyond our longing to be like the world and go where our heart knows we belong.  To make the death of Christ not be our insurance card but, in the resurrection, a life from God that shapes us from within into cross-people like Christ.  So we can foolishly and eagerly walk the path of life for the sake of the world.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

None of us can love another to the fulfillment of the law. We owe our neighbors love. And we are all in debt. Through the grace of God, we are forgiven, and we are deeply loved and capable of loving.

Vicar Meagan McLaughlin
13th Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 23 A
   Texts: Ezekiel 33:7-11, Romans 13:8-14, Matthew 18:15-20

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ, in the name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit.

“Owe no one anything, except to love one another; for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law.” What an amazing statement Paul makes in his letter to the Romans! Take all of the law encompassed in the Old Testament, and it can be fulfilled by simply loving one another. Rather than attending to what can seem to be an endless list of rules, we can trust that if we love our neighbor, we are doing God’s will, because as Paul says a few verses later, “Love does no wrong to a neighbor.” For those of us who can get bogged down in details, this is truly liberating. The only thing we need to do is love one another.

It is not always as simple as it seems, however. In the time of Jesus, faithful Jewish leaders debated hard and long about the statement “Love your neighbor,” asking who their neighbor was. Jesus was part of these faithful discussions, and as we have seen time and time again, Jesus often presents us with a challenge to view things from a different perspective. During one such conversation, Jesus shared the parable of the Good Samaritan, which forced his listeners to see the Samaritan, a hated enemy of mainline Jewish people, as the neighbor who saved them from the ditch. Jesus calls us not only to love, but to love without distinction.

The question of who we should consider to be our neighbor, who is worthy of our love, is still debated today, and the truth is we are often, without realizing it, tempted to draw a line defining who is and who is not our neighbor. Many Israelis and Palestinians would not include each other in their definition of neighbor. Many in the United States wrestle with how to respond to our neighbors from the south who come to this country illegally out of desperation. Police officers and community leaders of Ferguson, Missouri, are separated by thick walls of hate, and fear. Closer to home, we may find it hard to see as neighbor the person who brings violence to our community, the fellow church member whose political beliefs seem to go against our core values, even the family member with whom we have never been able to get along.

This call to love one another in fulfillment of the law doesn’t sound so simple when we understand that Paul was talking about loving those that are difficult to love. In Matthew, Jesus says that if a neighbor who has sinned against us will not listen even to the church, we are to consider them to be a tax collector or Gentile. This text has often been used to justify shunning or excommunicating someone who doesn’t measure up to standard, but if we are to understand what Jesus is really saying here, we need to remember that, far from separating himself from tax collectors and Gentiles, Jesus often found himself the center of attention for doing precisely the opposite. Jesus talked with them, listened to them, ate with them. Jesus loved them as they were, and called them to the fullness of life.

We are called to love not only when it is convenient for us, not only when our neighbor is someone we like and approve of, but to love everyone we meet, without condition. We are called to love the person who cuts us off in rush hour traffic, the person who brings a cart with 20 items into the checkout lane clearly marked “12 Items or Less,” the family next door who turns up their music at 10 p.m. Even more unthinkable, perhaps, we are called to love those who have hurt us—those by whom we feel betrayed, or misunderstood, or abused, even in those circumstances where, for the safety and health of ourselves and our family, we need to maintain boundaries and distance to prevent additional physical and emotional harm. Love one another. What does that look like? Is it even possible?

The truth is, if our one primary directive, the fulfillment of all the law and commands of God, is to love one another, to owe no one anything but love, we all fall short. None of us can love another to the fulfillment of the law. And yet, there it is. “Owe no one anything, except to love one another.” We owe our neighbors love. And we are all in debt.

We see evidence in the readings from Ezekiel and the Gospel of Matthew that God understands our plight, knows our indebtedness. In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus offers a guide for how to handle directly, and with respect and dignity, the conflict that inevitably arises among humans who struggle to love one another. In the verses immediately following this passage, Jesus tells his disciples that we are to forgive “seventy times seven times” when our neighbor asks forgiveness. When—not if—we fail to love, Ezekiel tells us we are to invite each other back to God, and remind ourselves of who we are called to be. God says to Ezekiel, “I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but that the wicked turn from their ways and live.” We are all in debt. And the God of love knows this, and promises forgiveness, and life, no matter how far we fall.

And it is precisely where we fall that God steps in. When North Minneapolis resident Mary Johnson’s son Laramiun was shot by Oshea Israel, another teenager in the neighborhood, in 1993, forgiveness and love was the last thing on their mind. In an interview with People magazine in 2011, Mary and Oshea shared their experience. Mary said, “At the trial I hated Oshea. I thought he was an animal and deserved to be caged. I was so angry when the judge charged him with second degree murder, instead of first degree.” For his part, Oshea felt that Laramiun was to blame for the shooting, and that if Mary had raised him better the conflict that led to Laramiun’s death and Oshea’s imprisonment would not have happened. As time went on, Mary’s anger and depression and grief led her to become a recluse, and ultimately she knew she needed God’s help to forgive the man who had killed her son. After 12 long years, and countless hours of tears and prayer, Mary visited Oshea in prison, and as they shared their pain with each other, God transformed them, and love and forgiveness became possible in the midst of anger and grief. Mary founded From Death to Life, a program that offers hope and reconciliation to others who have lost children to violence through support groups, prayer walks, and community gatherings that celebrate life and forgiveness. Oshea was paroled in 2010, and today, Mary and Oshea live next door to each other, and share their story of healing from podiums and pulpits around the world, offering hope to many who have experienced the same grief. Oshea, having recognized his own guilt and responsibility for Laramiun’s death, said, “I caused her pain, but we are loving our way through it.” [1]  It is precisely where we fall that God steps in.

This is a dramatic example that may seem out of reach, but it is no less miraculous when a man extends forgiveness to the one who abused him, a minister offers care and love to the young church member who accidently hit him with her car in the church parking lot, or a daughter reaches out to the parent from whom she has been estranged. We fall, and God steps in. For us as humans, on our own, loving to the fulfillment of the law is not possible, but with God miracles of love and healing are possible, and they happen every day. Where can God’s love work in and through you to heal brokenness in your life, your family, your community?

It is the love of God revealed in Jesus that redeems us from our debt. The love of God in Jesus enables us to love our neighbors, even when it is difficult. God’s love in Jesus empowers us to care for and protect ourselves and our families in a spirit of love. And when we fail, as we humans will, Jesus’ love for us gives us the grace to offer forgiveness when others hurt us, and the grace to receive forgiveness when we hurt others. We are all in debt, but through the grace of God, we are forgiven, and we are deeply loved and capable of loving.

“Owe no one anything, except to love one another; for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law.” God calls us to fulfill the law by living in God’s love today, for we are redeemed by God’s love for each of us, today and every day.

Amen.

[1]  Margaret Nelson Brinkhaus and Lorenzo Benet. “How I Forgave My Son’s Murderer.” People Magazine, September 12, 2011, 84-86.

None of us can love another to the fulfillment of the law. We owe our neighbors love. And we are all in debt. Through the grace of God, we are forgiven, and we are deeply loved and capable of loving.

Vicar Meagan McLaughlin
13th Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 23 A
   Texts: Ezekiel 33:7-11, Romans 13:8-14, Matthew 18:15-20

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ, in the name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit.

“Owe no one anything, except to love one another; for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law.” What an amazing statement Paul makes in his letter to the Romans! Take all of the law encompassed in the Old Testament, and it can be fulfilled by simply loving one another. Rather than attending to what can seem to be an endless list of rules, we can trust that if we love our neighbor, we are doing God’s will, because as Paul says a few verses later, “Love does no wrong to a neighbor.” For those of us who can get bogged down in details, this is truly liberating. The only thing we need to do is love one another.

It is not always as simple as it seems, however. In the time of Jesus, faithful Jewish leaders debated hard and long about the statement “Love your neighbor,” asking who their neighbor was. Jesus was part of these faithful discussions, and as we have seen time and time again, Jesus often presents us with a challenge to view things from a different perspective. During one such conversation, Jesus shared the parable of the Good Samaritan, which forced his listeners to see the Samaritan, a hated enemy of mainline Jewish people, as the neighbor who saved them from the ditch. Jesus calls us not only to love, but to love without distinction.

The question of who we should consider to be our neighbor, who is worthy of our love, is still debated today, and the truth is we are often, without realizing it, tempted to draw a line defining who is and who is not our neighbor. Many Israelis and Palestinians would not include each other in their definition of neighbor. Many in the United States wrestle with how to respond to our neighbors from the south who come to this country illegally out of desperation. Police officers and community leaders of Ferguson, Missouri, are separated by thick walls of hate, and fear. Closer to home, we may find it hard to see as neighbor the person who brings violence to our community, the fellow church member whose political beliefs seem to go against our core values, even the family member with whom we have never been able to get along.

This call to love one another in fulfillment of the law doesn’t sound so simple when we understand that Paul was talking about loving those that are difficult to love. In Matthew, Jesus says that if a neighbor who has sinned against us will not listen even to the church, we are to consider them to be a tax collector or Gentile. This text has often been used to justify shunning or excommunicating someone who doesn’t measure up to standard, but if we are to understand what Jesus is really saying here, we need to remember that, far from separating himself from tax collectors and Gentiles, Jesus often found himself the center of attention for doing precisely the opposite. Jesus talked with them, listened to them, ate with them. Jesus loved them as they were, and called them to the fullness of life.

We are called to love not only when it is convenient for us, not only when our neighbor is someone we like and approve of, but to love everyone we meet, without condition. We are called to love the person who cuts us off in rush hour traffic, the person who brings a cart with 20 items into the checkout lane clearly marked “12 Items or Less,” the family next door who turns up their music at 10 p.m. Even more unthinkable, perhaps, we are called to love those who have hurt us—those by whom we feel betrayed, or misunderstood, or abused, even in those circumstances where, for the safety and health of ourselves and our family, we need to maintain boundaries and distance to prevent additional physical and emotional harm. Love one another. What does that look like? Is it even possible?

The truth is, if our one primary directive, the fulfillment of all the law and commands of God, is to love one another, to owe no one anything but love, we all fall short. None of us can love another to the fulfillment of the law. And yet, there it is. “Owe no one anything, except to love one another.” We owe our neighbors love. And we are all in debt.

We see evidence in the readings from Ezekiel and the Gospel of Matthew that God understands our plight, knows our indebtedness. In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus offers a guide for how to handle directly, and with respect and dignity, the conflict that inevitably arises among humans who struggle to love one another. In the verses immediately following this passage, Jesus tells his disciples that we are to forgive “seventy times seven times” when our neighbor asks forgiveness. When—not if—we fail to love, Ezekiel tells us we are to invite each other back to God, and remind ourselves of who we are called to be. God says to Ezekiel, “I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but that the wicked turn from their ways and live.” We are all in debt. And the God of love knows this, and promises forgiveness, and life, no matter how far we fall.

And it is precisely where we fall that God steps in. When North Minneapolis resident Mary Johnson’s son Laramiun was shot by Oshea Israel, another teenager in the neighborhood, in 1993, forgiveness and love was the last thing on their mind. In an interview with People magazine in 2011, Mary and Oshea shared their experience. Mary said, “At the trial I hated Oshea. I thought he was an animal and deserved to be caged. I was so angry when the judge charged him with second degree murder, instead of first degree.” For his part, Oshea felt that Laramiun was to blame for the shooting, and that if Mary had raised him better the conflict that led to Laramiun’s death and Oshea’s imprisonment would not have happened. As time went on, Mary’s anger and depression and grief led her to become a recluse, and ultimately she knew she needed God’s help to forgive the man who had killed her son. After 12 long years, and countless hours of tears and prayer, Mary visited Oshea in prison, and as they shared their pain with each other, God transformed them, and love and forgiveness became possible in the midst of anger and grief. Mary founded From Death to Life, a program that offers hope and reconciliation to others who have lost children to violence through support groups, prayer walks, and community gatherings that celebrate life and forgiveness. Oshea was paroled in 2010, and today, Mary and Oshea live next door to each other, and share their story of healing from podiums and pulpits around the world, offering hope to many who have experienced the same grief. Oshea, having recognized his own guilt and responsibility for Laramiun’s death, said, “I caused her pain, but we are loving our way through it.” [1]  It is precisely where we fall that God steps in.

This is a dramatic example that may seem out of reach, but it is no less miraculous when a man extends forgiveness to the one who abused him, a minister offers care and love to the young church member who accidently hit him with her car in the church parking lot, or a daughter reaches out to the parent from whom she has been estranged. We fall, and God steps in. For us as humans, on our own, loving to the fulfillment of the law is not possible, but with God miracles of love and healing are possible, and they happen every day. Where can God’s love work in and through you to heal brokenness in your life, your family, your community?

It is the love of God revealed in Jesus that redeems us from our debt. The love of God in Jesus enables us to love our neighbors, even when it is difficult. God’s love in Jesus empowers us to care for and protect ourselves and our families in a spirit of love. And when we fail, as we humans will, Jesus’ love for us gives us the grace to offer forgiveness when others hurt us, and the grace to receive forgiveness when we hurt others. We are all in debt, but through the grace of God, we are forgiven, and we are deeply loved and capable of loving.

“Owe no one anything, except to love one another; for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law.” God calls us to fulfill the law by living in God’s love today, for we are redeemed by God’s love for each of us, today and every day.

Amen.

[1]  Margaret Nelson Brinkhaus and Lorenzo Benet. “How I Forgave My Son’s Murderer.” People Magazine, September 12, 2011, 84-86.

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