We can’t defend Christianity or Christians, or even God, with words; only by lives transformed by the Holy Spirit into Christly, self-giving love.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
St. Bartholomew, Apostle
Texts: John 1:43-51; Psalm 12; 1 Corinthians 12:27-31a (adding 31b and 13:1-3)

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

Nathanael Bartholomew asks a skeptical question.

“Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Maybe it’s as simple as the common prejudice we often see between two small towns, where everyone in Bethsaida knows nothing good comes from Nazareth. Whatever it is, Nathanael is skeptical of Philip’s hope in this rabbi only because Jesus is from Nazareth.

But here’s another version of the question: “Can anything good come from a Christian?” There are lots of Nathanaels in our world who ask this. So once again: what does it mean to call ourselves “Christian” in a world where so many Christians do and say and promote horrible things, where they’re the loudest Christian voices anyone hears? Last week we focused on listening carefully to these fellow Christians whose beliefs and actions offend us and don’t seem to be of Christ. But now we have to consider those outside the Christian community who look at us with disdain and distrust, paint us with the same brush as the others.

The worst thing we can do is say, “We’re not like those other Christians.” It’s tempting; I’ve said it myself. But I no longer think we can do that, not with integrity and honesty. First, because sometimes we are like them. But also because words ultimately mean nothing. If people can’t tell by who we are who the Christ we belong to truly is, any protests we make have no value.

But look at how Jesus handled Nathanael’s critique.

Jesus answers his skeptical attitude with admiration.

He says, “This is nice – here’s someone who doesn’t lie.” Jesus doesn’t try to convince Nathanael he’s wrong about Nazareth. Jesus simply is himself. He values honesty, so he praises Nathanael for not holding back on his views.

And then Jesus invites Nathanael to know him as he really is, letting Jesus’ own actions be what Nathanael learns to see and trust. “You will see greater things than these,” Jesus says, and it’s true. Nathanael will see in Jesus’ life and actions the hope of the world.

Jesus knows that actions are the only truth we can offer the world.

We can only earn respect and trust by how we embody Christ. As we sang in the psalm today, lots of people lie about who they are, while the needy go hungry and the poor cry out in misery. In last week’s psalm God called us to act, to “save the weak and orphan, defend the humble and needy, rescue the weak and the poor and deliver them from the power of the wicked.” That’s God’s way. When we live that way we reveal a truth about us worth knowing by others.

Paul believes this deeply. He has a long twelfth chapter in First Corinthians about varied spiritual gifts, about the differing members of the Body of Christ, ending in today’s reading. But if you keep reading into chapter 13, as we did today with a few added verses, Paul says no gifts are as important as Christly love. You can speak like angels, he says, but without love it sounds like a banging garbage can lid. Without love, no wisdom, no vision, no faith even is worth anything, Paul says. Love that embodies Christ in the world, which Paul describes in detail in the following verses, is the only true witness. Without our living in that love, nothing we say about who we think we are matters at all.

So how can we become what believe we are?

Well, Paul calls love the greatest spiritual gift. So we need the Holy Spirit to help us embody Christ in every moment of our days. To transform us into people whose lives are deeply rooted in love and bearing Christ’s love, not just in this building, but in our neighborhood, and the neighborhoods we all live in.

We’ve done much good over the years, together and individually. But we’re always called to continually deepen our lives in Christ, especially in these times that are so terrible for so many.

This is our only answer to any Nathanael Bartholomews who doubt us.

We have no right to tell others to trust us. They have legitimate reasons not to. All we can do is ask the Spirit to make us trustworthy.

And we know that’s what the Spirit does. The teaching, death, and resurrection of Christ began the overturning of this world, began God’s new resurrection life poured into believers. For all the evil spoken by Christians, the hateful actions done, the countless reasons the world has not to trust us, there have also always been faithful followers of Jesus who, transformed by the Spirit, embodied Christ in the world, lived sacrificial lives of love, quietly offered a witness of the One who broke death and brought God’s love to the whole creation.

This, then, with the Spirit’s power, will also be your answer: your life lived as Christ, bearing the love of God in the world. It will be my answer, too, and the answer of any who claim Christ. It’s the only true witness we can make.

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

Following Christ is our path, trusting in God’s undying love, serving as Jesus taught, no matter what others bearing the name might say or do.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Tenth Sunday after Pentecost, Lect. 20 C
Texts: Luke 12:49-56; Psalm 82

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

We are experiencing exactly what Jesus said we would.

It’s deeply distressing to people who call ourselves Christian, who seek to bear Christ in the world, to see other people bearing that same name spew evil and hatred in that name. It’s almost embarrassing to be known as a Christian because of what other Christians are saying and doing. Many of us feel this every day.

I will cause division, Jesus says today. A household will be divided, two against three. Parents will be against children. Christ’s family will be divided on account of Christ. Jesus doesn’t want this. But he sees that this will happen.

For many of us, this isn’t abstract. We know and sometimes are related to people whose Christianity seems to support a kind of Christian nationalism where a particular morality would be mandated for all, but it’s a morality that seems to abandon anyone who is different, or vulnerable, or struggling in any way.

So do we hide our Christian identity under a bushel so people don’t assume we’re the same as the loudest ones in this country? What about our family members, our friends? Do we separate from those relationships? Keep them and say nothing that will inspire conflict or argument?

We should be grateful to Jesus for these words.

A naïve view of being Christian, that once you’re in, it’s all rainbows and light, everyone singing around a campfire holding hands, won’t survive in this world.

But how can the Prince of Peace, the one angels at his birth proclaimed would bring peace on earth, say his coming will not bring peace but conflict?

Christ is still that peace maker. But he knows the path to that peace will divide those who follow him. The path to that peace leads to the cross first. That’s the baptism Jesus is so anxious about today he says he wishes it was all over and done with.

But that path is also the one all who claim Christ are called to follow. The path of self-giving, sacrificial love. Of loving enemies, of caring for those in need. Of losing ourselves to find our true life in Christ. That’s the path that leads to true peace.

And that’s where the division starts. Between those who claim Christ without the path of Christ and those who claim Christ and seek to follow.

When we truly listen to Jesus, we see this is exactly where the path divides.

There are Christians who listen to everything Jesus taught and seek to live that way. For them, that’s being Christ. And there are Christians who seem to ignore what Jesus taught and understand faith in Christ as a possession, something that’s supposed to bless them, prosper them. A way to power.

The division we’re seeing in our country between Christians today isn’t a denominational one, and there aren’t finer points of theology being argued. The right wing of Christianity in this country is a faith that believes Christians should have political power, should force everyone else to do what they want, should impose their suspect moral views on the whole country, views you can’t easily find in Jesus’ teaching. These Christians believe anyone who isn’t of their group isn’t worthy of help or any consideration. You’re either in or you’re out.

We reject that kind of Christianity because we can’t ignore four Gospels worth of teaching, calling, invitation, direction. For us, following Jesus means following Jesus – everything he said about the path he calls us to follow. For us, belonging to the Triune God in Christ is belonging to God’s passion for justice, mercy, healing, and wholeness for the whole creation, as Scriptures say again and again and again.

So we prayed in our Prayer of the Day today to share God’s zeal.

We asked the Triune God to “give us courage to take our stand with all victims of bloodshed and greed,” looking to the pioneer ahead of us on the path, Christ Jesus.

That’s what being Christian is to us. Hearing God’s cry in today’s psalm and following it, that we “save the weak and orphan, defend the humble and needy, rescue the weak and the poor and deliver them from the power of the wicked.” That’s God’s way. The only way we want to go.

As Christians, there’s no option for us to ignore that Christ asks us to care for those who are hungry, thirsty, naked, sick, imprisoned, or strangers. There’s nothing we’re called to do but to serve Christ in our neighbors in need. And we have no option with our enemies except to love them and see God’s face in them. To pray for those who harm and persecute and do evil.

To be Christian for us is to know we are so deeply and irrevocably loved by God in Christ that we serve as Christ without fear, knowing who we’re called to love as we have been loved by God. It’s that simple.

So don’t be embarrassed to carry Christ’s name.

You know Christ’s heart, and you’ve tried to live that heart. You know you’re always beloved of God and have tried to be that love to others. That’s enough.

But since you belong to the Christ who calls you to love all God’s children, you can’t reject Christians who are divided from us in this faithfulness, either. But maybe confrontation isn’t necessary.

Maybe, since the path diverges at the teachings of Jesus, you and I could look for chances to gently engage our loved ones and ask them, “can you help me understand how Jesus’ words and teachings connect to your views?” And then just listen. In that conversation the Spirit might lead you to words that help. Maybe just by asking in kindness and listening, a door might be opened.

Because it was Jesus’ teachings that inspired you and me in the first place. That pulled our hearts and challenged our habits, that led us out of self-centeredness into self-giving. And the fact that you fail sometimes, I fail sometimes, and we always fall back on the death-breaking love of God that forgives you, forgives me, and raises us up to try again, can that grace we know also inform our love for these ones?

It’s good to have open eyes to the challenges of following Christ.

It’s good Jesus warned us ahead of time, so our despair in these days is lessened. If the Son of God knew this would happen, we can also trust Christ has a plan to bring healing and wholeness to this division.

In the meantime, you know what to be and do. Trust in God’s forgiving and blessing love, and ask God’s grace to walk the path of Christ in this world. No matter who rails against that. And with the Spirit’s help, you and I will be a part of the peace God’s Son came to bring.

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

Pentecost is our Annunciation, your call to let the Spirit fill you and transform you for the healing of the world.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
St. Mary, the Mother of Our Lord
Text: Luke 1:46-55

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

Pentecost is our Annunciation. It’s that simple.

Today we learn to model Mary, not worship her. Mary stands alongside us, urging us to join her in answering God’s invitation. To join her willingness to open herself completely to God’s work, even if it meant her world turned upside down. To say with her “let it be so,” and let God’s Spirit transform us for the life of the world.

Sharing Mary’s “yes” means letting down all sorts of boundaries with God.

And maybe only a pregnant woman can show us this. From the moment of conception, a pregnant mother shares her body with another being. There isn’t a breath taken that isn’t shared. Blood runs between the two. Food eaten, physical movement, all affect both. There’s distinction between the two, but the boundaries seem nearly transparent.

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

And as much as we desire God’s presence in our lives, God’s grace in our hearts, there are some places inside our hearts with a “no admittance” sign, places where we say to God, “this far, and no further.” Where we say:

I don’t want you to challenge my preconception, my way of thinking. It’s mine to keep.     OR

I don’t want you to prod at that sin, that habit that hurts me and others. It’s comfortable to me.     OR

I’m not ready for you to change me fully into Christ, to set aside my needs. I like being number one in my plans.     OR

I don’t want you to open my heart fully to love you and love others. That vulnerability terrifies me. I’d rather limit my love, protect myself.

And God will let you give these answers. You, like Mary, can always say no.

But if God allows your “no,” what does that suggest about the Magnificat?

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

But if God inspires this song by inviting a teenage girl to bear Christ into the world, and if God waits for her “yes” before proceeding, that surely means this is how God will fulfill Magnificat’s promise with us, with you.

Mary, who wasn’t forced into “yes,” couldn’t sing a song about God forcing anyone else, either. When Mary’s child grew to an adult, Jesus invited people into the reign of God, called people to lose everything to find God’s life. The Son of God was so committed to not forcing humanity to follow, so committed to invitation rather than coercion, that he let us torture and kill him, rather than take up force against us.

So the Magnificat can’t be a manifesto for God’s forcing the world upside down. God’s approach to Mary, the Son of God’s consistent approach in preaching and teaching, dying and rising, declare this is also the only way God will accomplish Magnificat’s promise. Through you, and me, and all God’s children, saying “yes, let it be as you say, as you ask.”

We who are mighty, powerful, aren’t threatened to comply by God’s armies.

We’re invited by God’s sacrificial love to step down from our thrones of privilege and lift up those who are trodden down. We who are full, rich, sated with plenty, are invited to empty ourselves, to step away from the buffet table, so that all can feast, all are fed and housed and clothed. We who are proud, self-centered, who act consciously and unconsciously more out of self-interest than we care to admit, are invited to scatter all that pride, let go of all those self-satisfied thoughts. So we can truly become Christ.

This won’t be easy. Mary’s “yes” led her to great joys, but also pain and suffering. Dropping all boundaries and letting God enter in, for the healing of our world, for the healing of our own lives, always has cost, loss, risk. Mary’s “yes” led her to the foot of the cross where she saw her son brutally killed. A world turned upside down means we move down so that all might live.

But Mary’s path didn’t end at that cross.

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

Pentecost is your Annunciation. The Spirit will enter you, change you, when you say yes, and you will be richly blessed and become a blessing to the world. A part of God’s Magnificat overturning. Whatever you let go, whatever you’re asked to lose, you’ll realize they’re nothing compared to the joy of bearing Christ. You’ll find life and love in God’s heart on this path.

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

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

Don’t be afraid: God is pleased to give you the reign of God, here and in the world to come, for you and for all creatures and the creation.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Ninth Sunday after Pentecost, Lect. 19 C
Texts: Luke 12:32-40; Genesis 15:1-6; Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16

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

Don’t be afraid, Jesus says.

God-with-us says it is God’s good pleasure to give you the reign of God.

Trust that, Jesus says. Trust that no matter what you think about the world, what you fear, despair about, all will be made new in God’s reign. Trust that no matter what you think about yourself or whether you’re worthy, God loves you unconditionally and says you are welcome, forgiven, beloved, enough. So you don’t have to be afraid.

For the second time in a couple weeks, you’re invited to trust God. And once again, Abraham’s trust is your model.

Two weeks ago Abraham trusted God’s nature, God’s goodness and mercy and spoke his heart to God. Today, he learns to trust God’s promises.

This is such a powerful moment in the history of God’s people that Paul builds a whole theology of grace out of it, and the writer of Hebrews spends a lot of time considering it. Abraham and Sarah are very old, and the promises God made seem impossible to Abraham. How can they have a child? Where will this promised land be? How will his descendants bless the whole world? Nothing has come of these promises. He’s leaving his goods to a slave since he has no heirs.

But God speaks to him, again, and says, again, “no, it will be your own children that will continue this promise.” And God shows him the stars and says, “that’s how uncountable your family will be.” And once again Abraham trusts. That’s what amazes Paul and the writer of Hebrews. With little evidence, Abraham continues to walk in faith, to serve God, to await the fulfilling of God’s promises. Look at him, they say. You could trust in that way, too.

But what promises are we talking about here?

Not Abraham’s list, so what is this reign of God? Hebrews here focuses on the heavenly city yet to come. There’s also a lot in this letter about our earthly pilgrimage, but here the writer says the ultimate promise of a life to come is what these faithful followers of old trusted from God.

And this is the reign of God Jesus promises: you can trust you have life to come after you die, a home in God’s heavenly reign. Even if you can’t see it, it’s there. But since no one can see this promise fulfilled unless they die, trust is your only option with this.

And yet, Jesus says God’s reign is also here now, in this life.

Jesus, the face of the Triune God for us, lived and proclaimed a reign of God here – on earth as in heaven, as he taught us to pray – where no one goes hungry. Where all who are thirsty are filled. Where strangers and aliens are welcomed and loved, where people imprisoned are cared for, and the sick and destitute are brought healing. Where the naked and homeless are clothed and sheltered. All that is promised for here.

And yet, this world doesn’t look at all like that. We live in a country that despises and abuses strangers and aliens, that burns 500 tons of food meant for starving children rather than give it to them, that targets vulnerable children and adults for abuse and hatred and exclusion under law. And the same is happening all over the world. There are few signs that God’s promised reign is here.

But, like Abraham, you’re asked to trust this promise anyway. Because what else Jesus says today.

The problem isn’t the promise. It’s how the promise is meant to happen.

Jesus’ coming as God in our flesh was to enlist God’s children, enlist you, enlist me, in making God’s reign happen here.

So Jesus says “don’t be afraid, God’s reign is yours” and then immediately says how you’ll be a part of this reign. Sell your possessions and give to those who lack, he says. Always be dressed for action, lamps lit, ready to serve God wherever needed. This is how God’s reign will happen. When you and I keep at it, doing our work, being God’s love.

Didn’t Christ say “you will serve me when you serve someone who is starving, or thirsty, or naked, or sick, or in prison, or a stranger”? When you serve the world in love, you’re in God’s reign. When you see God’s face in all people, you’re in God’s reign. When you realize God’s Spirit is in you and in all, you’re in God’s reign. When you see God in your enemy and are drawn to love them, you’re in God’s reign.

And remember, this is all God’s idea, God’s passion.

We didn’t come up with the idea of this reign of God that you and I so desperately want to see happen here. Everything we care about – justice, ending oppression, welcoming all, making peace and shelter and food and safety for all, building a world of hope and healing – all this is the Triune God’s idea first. God’s reign. God’s plan.

We sometimes forget that. We despair because we see so much wrong and think we can only do a little. But this is the Triune God’s dream, that all live in God’s reign. You can’t see how your little part, your love, your kindness, your activism, your devotion, your prayer, your work, is going to affect the whole thing. But you don’t have to. Let God see the big picture. Trust God is bringing this reign about, and do what you find yourself called to do. That’s how it will happen.

Don’t be afraid. The Triune God is pleased to do this, Jesus says.

Even if you die – and you will – there is life in God’s reign waiting for you. Trust that, and don’t be afraid of death.

And since God is also bringing this reign here, you get to be a part of that, too. If you can’t see how that could be, look at Abraham and remember he trusted with very little evidence. Ask the Spirit to help you find that trust, too.

And even if you and I don’t live long enough to see this all come to be, that’s OK, too. God’s got the big picture. As you serve and love as Christ, you’ll see parts emerge that bring joy.

So don’t be afraid. God has promised this and will do it. You can trust your life to it. And the life of the world.

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

The grind and anxiety of modern life can make us as “What was it all for?” But our risen life in Christ leads us to contentment that leads to true joy.

Vicar Natalie Wussler
The Eighth Sunday after Pentecost, Lect. 18 C
Text: Ecclesiastes 1:2, 12-14, 2:18-23; Psalm 49:1-12; Colossians 3:1-11; Luke 12:13-21

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

What was it all for?

Our readings today beg us to ask this question–a teacher at the end of their life, tired and regretting all their time working, spending time doing things they thought would make them safe and happy, calling it vexation and vanity, meaningless and painfully temporary.

And a rich man, so focused on himself that when he has an abundant harvest, he stores up for himself and plans on a life of luxury with no mention of anyone else to share it with. But his life ends that night and his plans go to waste.

And Jesus tells this parable in response to a man that wants Jesus to settle inheritance arguments with his brother, instead of restoring his relationship with his brother and loving him…

Where is the joy in that? Where is the hope?

What was it all for?

These are not the Scriptures we want to hear on a Sunday morning, they don’t immediately proclaim the good news that uplifts us and heals us. Instead, they confront us with our own anxieties in the grind of modern life, the endless pursuit of more, and the lie that if we work harder or have more, we’ll finally be safe and happy. 

But what was it all for?

Ecclesiastes calls it chasing the wind, Jesus calls it foolishness. And we know it all too well. We see how this endless pursuit of stuff, of success, of money digs its way into hearts and minds, and goes far beyond responsible planning for the future and turns into greed and self-centeredness. We’re horrified when we see our leaders make decisions out of greed that ends up hurting millions of people. Or when we realize just how much of our society rewards and perpetuates greed and grind culture.

But what hurts the most is when we, as children of God, fall into the same traps, when we catch ourselves believing the lie that more stuff, more money, or more influence will make us happy, or will provide us the safety and security that we crave. When we try to live a life of generosity, but we still stumble into greed. When we let fear and self preservation guide our decisions and priorities. This way of life is exhausting, and makes us feel empty and anxious, like we’re walking around with the cares of the world like a suit of armor, weighing us down.

And this way of life is so deeply woven into our world, it can feel impossible to break free.

But hear this.

We’ve already been freed. “You have been raised with Christ.” That’s past tense. As in already done, decided, finished. Christ has already freed you from that way of life and already took off the armor and clothed you in love. A different kind of life is accessible for you. Christ sealed this promise in your baptism and took away the things that lead you to sin, death, and greed, and gave you a new self, a new heart, and a new mind, one that helps you live into this simple truth: Life is a gift and love is the point.

Life is a gift, and love is the point. 

And when we live knowing this truth, everything changes. We realize that we were brought into existence by the love that created the universe. And we’ve been given this one life to live abundantly. And that abundance has nothing to do with anything that this world could give us. And now our life’s purpose is to live in God’s love that already abides within us, to be God’s reconciling and healing love embodied, to serve and to share with others, and to become fully aware of how interconnected we truly are.

Our hearts, our priorities, and our actions begin to change. And when we truly grasp that life is a gift and love is the point, the things that we once chased lose their grips on us. Success no longer looks like personal gain, it looks like lifting someone up. Security no longer comes from our things or our bank account, it comes from God’s ever-lasting presence in our lives. We start to make decisions not out of scarcity and fear, but out of compassion and trust in the Holy Spirit. 

We no longer see other people as obstacles or competitors, but as fellow image-bearers sharing in God’s reign with us. And the posture of our lives shifts from self-preserving to self-giving, from grasping to generosity. And God transforms our toil and work into opportunities for service and our possessions into gifts we use to bless others. Beloved, God’s spirit is always making you new and leading you into deeper trust and a renewed sense of purpose for this one life.

There will be days when this transformed life feels hard. Somedays you’ll stumble and fall back into old patterns. The love and the service you do, feels like too big a sacrifice. But Christ is with you and helps you set your mind on things above and reorients your thoughts, desires, and energy to God’s vision for your life. 

This transformation is not an overnight thing–it’s a daily process of renewal and growth. Ask anyone who’s picked up a new sport and they’ll tell you it’s hard at first. You make mistakes. You feel weak. But God is with you, molding you into the person you’ve been called to be, helping you wake up everyday and choose love, reminding you that you have everything you would ever need for this life in Christ, because you’re drawing from the overflowing well of God’s goodness. And over time, the things you thought were impossible for you become possible, and then they become instinct, because love becomes who you are.

And our love isn’t just dust in the wind and it doesn’t fade after we die. We pass our love along, from person to person, it’s nurtured by generations of spirit-led people and, like a mustard seed, blooms into an abundant garden that changes cultures and minds, and leads us into a more loving future.

And that, friends, is a good way to live a life.

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