Joy is found both in receiving God’s promised restoration and healing and in being a part of that healing by repenting as John calls.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Third Sunday of Advent, year C
Texts: Zephaniah 3:14-20; Philippians 4:4-7; Luke 3:7-18

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

Today is Gaudete Sunday – “Rejoice” Sunday.

Historically today’s Introit in Western Christianity was Paul’s words to the Philippians we just heard: “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice!” In the current lectionary, Zephaniah joins Paul today and urges the faithful to “rejoice and exult with all your heart,” for God has come to bring them hope and healing. Today we pause in our Advent waiting to rejoice in what God has done and is doing in Christ for the world.

Two things make this challenging. First, John’s second appearance in two weeks is not the most joyful Gospel reading one could add to the others’ urgings of joy.

But, more deeply, if you listened carefully to Zephaniah, you might have grasped that perhaps you’re not the one being comforted. That someone else needs Zephaniah in ways you do not.

Zephaniah’s call for rejoicing is specifically for those oppressed, outcast.

“I will remove disaster from you,” God declares, “and I will deal with all your oppressors at that time. I will save the lame and gather the outcast, and change their shame into praise and renown in all the earth. I will bring you home.”

From my privileged place in this culture, I know I’m not the one offered joy here. But there are many for whom this would be good news. If God really will deal with oppressors and restore the outcast, then for our neighbors of color who deal with systemic oppression daily, that’s something to hear, maybe even find hope in. For our indigenous neighbors whose voices are constantly ignored in our society and who’ve been systemically excluded, marginalized, their culture and lives and homes intentionally demolished for four centuries, perhaps God’s promise brings joy. If they see God is doing it.

Many, many more, including some here today, know oppression and marginalization. Rejoice, then, Zephaniah proclaims: God is with you.

But if you’re more like me, you might find yourself elsewhere in today’s readings.

Some of us are more at home on the Jordan’s banks today.

Whatever you feel about John’s harsh tone and unflinching words, people flocked to him. Maybe they saw in him the signs of a true prophet of Israel. Maybe, like some of us, they recognized a need to find their way back to God.

But John insists that repentance – turning to God – isn’t real if it doesn’t bear fruit worthy of it. Something visible, tangible, effective in the world. So we join the earnest seekers by the river – setting aside Rejoice Sunday for now – and ask John, “what does that look like? What should we do?”

John gives very practical and world-changing answers.

He answers by implying a question, one he hopes you and I will ask ourselves.

Do you have two coats? John asks. Well, you can’t wear both at once, and some have no coats. Give one of yours to one of them.

Do you have enough food? John asks. More than enough? Well, you can’t eat all you have, and some have no food. Give some of your food to some of them.

John speaks directly to those of us who are not in need, who often realize one of our biggest problems is we’ve accumulated too much and need to simplify. Who look at our organics bin at so much more food than we need just thrown out after sitting in our refrigerators too long.

John gives a blueprint for a society where all are blessed to have enough to eat, to wear, to be safe and healthy. But the blueprint is only followed when we who have far more than enough find the satisfying grace of enough.

To the inquiring tax collectors and soldiers, John gives another answer deeply relevant to our lives.

John’s replies to these two groups are relatively simple for them to understand. Tax collectors are asked to do their jobs without cheating others, effectively stealing from their neighbors. The soldiers are asked not to threaten others and steal from them, and to be satisfied with their pay.

Here John also speaks directly to those of us who find it difficult to live ethically in our complex world. Our changes are much more complicated and challenging than theirs, but just as critical. Live ethically and compassionately in all your behavior, John says, lest you steal from your neighbor. All our participation in the harmful systems of our world, whether it’s what and where we buy, how we vote, whether we work for change that benefits others, to all of this John says, “stop doing things that steal from others, that threaten others, that hurt your neighbor.”

John gives a blueprint for a society where all are blessed with justice and true peace, where all livelihoods are respected and cared for by all, where all our life choices are made for the common good. But the blueprint is only followed when we who are involved in these systems to our benefit discern and change our behaviors for the sake of our neighbor.

After John, for many of us, Rejoice Sunday feels anything but.

It feels that the gift of a day to simply rejoice in God’s goodness for us is more than some of us can ask. But that is not true. Paul’s encouragement clearly is for all, especially any who have anxiety. “Don’t worry about anything,” Paul says. Rejoice in God. That’s for you, too.

But Luke thinks even John’s whole episode today is reason for joy for you and me. After all this challenging encounter that brings a lot of us anxiety over our own lives and behavior, Luke adds a tagline none of the other Evangelists say: “So, with many other exhortations,” Luke writes, “John proclaimed the good news to the people.”

John’s preaching is Good News. Gospel. Good news for the fearful middle class people on the riverbank. Good news for the cheating tax collector and the extorting soldier.

That’s the secret of Advent you want to find today.

Somehow, all of this blueprint for God’s reign, this asking a great deal of you and me is Good News. Gospel.

It’s definitely good news for others when we live John’s fruits. When you are satisfied with enough and share all the rest, you fulfill Zephaniah’s promise. Those in deep need can rejoice because Christ has changed you from a hoarder into a joyful fellow participant in God’s abundance for all. Those who suffer from oppression and injustice can rejoice in God’s Gospel when you carefully change your behaviors that harm your neighbors. When people like us bear such fruit it is Good News to many.

But it is also Good News, Gospel, for you. Living a life sharing God’s abundance is a life of joy and hope for you. Living a life ethically and compassionately is a life of joy and hope for you.

Look for that joy. Luke’s let you in on the secret that living as John asks, as Christ models and teaches, is the surest way of living joy and hope you will ever know. It is Good News. Gospel.

 And it will certainly bring joy and hope to many, many more through you.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

The One who began a good work in you will complete it in time, for your sake, and the sake of the world.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Second Sunday of Advent, year C
Texts: Philippians 1:3-11; Luke 3:1-6; Malachi 3:1-4

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

Advent’s messages are very familiar to us. But they’re really hard to sort out.

Every year John the Baptist preaches on two Advent Sundays, and we know the message by heart: Repent. Prepare for God’s coming. Then the Evangelists always link John back to Isaiah: straight paths in the wilderness, flattened mountains and filled-up valleys, rough roads made smooth. Today, we’re also told we’ll be refined, purified, like ore.

These are powerful yearly messages, but we have multiple difficulties with them. It’s hard to know what we’re preparing for, what it will mean to our lives, and who’s doing what. And they’re pretty threatening sounding, too. They make Advent feel daunting, even dispiriting.

So first, which coming of Christ are we preparing for?

Our celebration of Christmas? The calendar placement of these four weeks makes it feel that way. But putting up a Christmas tree and getting an Advent wreath doesn’t require metaphors of massive landscaping projects or being heated in a nearly 2,000 degrees Fahrenheit refining forge.

Are we preparing for Christ’s coming at the end of time? If we trust Jesus, and we do, he told us repeatedly our preparation for that time is to be ready always. We’re not to worry about when it will happen, just be ready every day, faithful in our service. Again, it doesn’t sound comparable to smashing mountains to sea level.

Are we preparing for Christ to come into our lives right now? Well, John’s call to “prepare” and “repent” seems to fit that coming best. So does refining ore and re-ordering wilderness. Is your heart ready for Christ to dwell within you? Advent asks. Do you need cleaning up, refining, purifying? Do you need things rooted out of your heart’s wilderness, your rough ways smoothed out? John and the prophets make the most sense for our lives right now.

But who actually works this Advent preparation we’re hearing about?

John seems to think we do. He says directly, “Repent. Prepare.” As if you should do that.

But gold ore doesn’t refine itself. Malachi says God’s Messiah will put you through fire and refine you. And mountains and valleys don’t drive the big machines. Isaiah sounds like someone else is doing it: every valley shall be lifted up, every mountain and hill be made low. Like it’s not our work.

Clearly, we’re called to be changed for Christ’s coming into our hearts and lives. But much of today’s Advent calling doesn’t seem like something we can do for ourselves.

And we know we have failures to account for, things in us that aren’t God-pleasing. We know we’re not always like Christ. But all of these calls to prepare and repent, and the frightening thoughts of fiery furnaces and road graders can fill us with dread and shame that we’re not enough for God and never will be.

Thank God for Paul’s gift today.

In this beautiful letter to the congregation he unabashedly loves, Paul begins with pure joy: “I thank my God every time I remember you, constantly praying with joy in every one of my prayers for all of you.”

The Philippians weren’t perfect. They were as flawed as the people of Galatia or Corinth or Rome, whom Paul also loved. But when Paul prays for Lydia and her people, it all begins with joy.

That’s the overwhelming promise of Scripture, and Paul’s Advent gift to you: God’s first and constant thought of you is joy. There will be time to talk about challenging things, even for the Philippians in this letter. But this is your beginning and constant truth: you are beloved to God and bring joy to the heart of God.

You probably need refining, purifying. But you are precious gold. You probably need some landscaping work. But God created your landscape and sees beauty and promise in it.

And here’s the next gift: the very next line.

Paul says, “I am confident of this, that the One who began a good work in you will bring it to completion by the day of Jesus Christ.”

Can you hear that? God in Christ has already begun this good work in you, from your baptism till now. Christ is already living in your heart, making adjustments, doing remodeling, cooking away impurities. And Paul is confident that the refining, the landscaping, will all be completed by deadline.

This is Advent’s joy: whatever preparation your heart needs for Christ to live in you, the Triune God is already doing it, and Christ has already come to you. Even your repentance, turning to God from your sin into the life of God’s love, is empowered by God’s Spirit living in you.

Hold this promise: God in Christ has begun a good work in you and will complete it.

What remains is to trust that the Refiner sees your precious metal and is working to bring it out with love and gentle, firm correction. It might even get pretty hot inside as Christ refines you. But the Artisan won’t destroy what is beloved in the process.

What remains is to trust that the Landscaper sees your potential with some grading or shifting of priorities, loves who you are and what you can be, and carefully crafts you into Christ for the world. It might feel like the Spirit’s driving a bulldozer sometimes. But this Operator has a deft, skilled touch, and will leave the garden better than before.

And remember that God in Christ has a lot more at stake than just you. The Triune God is trying to refine the precious metal of this creation, re-shape the landscape of this world, one child of God at a time. You. And me. And on and on.

This is how the inner beauty God sees in creation will finally be seen by all and all nations will be healed. That’s when Advent’s true work will be finished, when “all flesh sees the salvation of God.”

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

Trust in God’s love for you and the creation; all the rest will come from that.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Day of Thanksgiving, year B
Text: Matthew 6:25-33

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

Maybe Jesus didn’t have a dog.

When he wanted to encourage the crowds not to worry and to trust God for all things, he spoke of birds. They don’t plant seeds or harvest them or store them. But look, Jesus said, God feeds them. He spoke of flowers who don’t need to make clothing to look beautiful. God clothes them.

And of course he was saying that if God takes care of them, God will take care of you. But he also seems to suggest that they’re not worried about that.

Now, we don’t know about the inner life of birds. Do they worry where the next seeds will come from? And do flowers have feelings? Some studies suggest plants respond to music, to tone of voice. Do they have anxiety about whether they’ll burst forth in beautiful flower?

But if Jesus had a dog, this Gospel would make perfect sense to me.

So, I give you our little friend, Maggie.

Consider the Maggie of the house, Jesus could have said. She doesn’t make her meals (though if she ran freely, she’d try for a squirrel). But she looks to the food-giver, Mary, with hope and expectation each time 6 comes around on the clock. She trusts food will be given, and she joyfully eats it.

And look at Maggie, Jesus could have said. She doesn’t make blankets to keep herself warm at night. But when the couch-reader, Joseph, heads up to the loft to read, she joyfully runs ahead and leaps onto the blanket, ready to warmly lean into legs that are obviously there just for her.

And consider this, Jesus could say: for Maggie, every suggested activity is instantly her favorite thing of all time. Is she fully asleep, enjoying a nap? No matter, if the humans are preparing for a walk. Immediately that’s the longed-for activity, the long-anticipated joy.

Consider her, Jesus could have said. What if you didn’t fret about food or clothes, but simply and joyfully took life as it came?

This isn’t a silly exercise. Jesus seriously wants you to think about flowers and birds and your life with God, and find a way to let your worrying go.

I definitely want to listen to Jesus here. I want to look at the world, at our country, at the lives of neighbors and loved ones, even at my own life, and say, “It will all be well.” But it’s hard.

But Maggie daily shows what I think Jesus invites you to see: she lives her life in the moment, glad of company, glad of food, glad of warmth, glad of walks. If she worries about tomorrow, I don’t see it. If we come home after 10 minutes away we are greeted with the fullest joy she can muster, exactly as when we come home after hours away.

Of course birds and flowers and Maggie – feel free to insert the name of your favorite dog here – birds and flowers and Maggie have it easy, we say. Someone always provides. They may not worry about their food or clothing or shelter, but in the real world, someone has to worry about that.

But clearly Jesus knows that, that we have responsibilities and concerns beyond that of our fellow creatures on this planet. So if Jesus knows that, and still says, “have a look at them and consider what they’re up to,” maybe it’s worth considering.

Jesus invites you to seek to live as God’s non-human creatures do, and trust God’s goodness.

Maybe that’s the blessing of a Day of Thanksgiving. To remember to say, “thank you God, that this morning I breathed and saw the sun.” “Thank you, God, that today someone smiled at me.” “Thank you, God, that there are people who are working hard to bring mercy and justice to our world.” “Thank you, God, that I’m sometimes blessed to work with that, too.” To look at this life and say, “Thank you, God, for this food, for this rain, for this bed, for this home, for this neighbor, for that song, for this worship, for that joy, for this moment of happiness.”

Jesus invites you to lean into God’s love and look at all God is doing for the life of the world, and for your life. Even if it’s as simple as a warm fire on a cold night. Or the cashier being kind to you at checkout.

When Jesus says that worrying won’t help you add even a single hour to your lifespan, obviously that’s true.

But what if he means this: appreciate every hour you have. Singer-songwriter Warren Zevon, as he neared an untimely death from cancer, was asked what he now knew, facing death, that he’d tell others. He said, “Enjoy every sandwich.”

All of the problems Jesus says not to worry about won’t go away. You and all people need to eat. You and all people need clothes. You and all people need shelter. You and all people need love. You and all people need safety and peace with justice. Jesus just suggests that if you keep your eyes open to what is good right now, your hope fixed on the love of God in Christ that cannot be taken from you or your neighbor or the creation, all those problems won’t overwhelm your heart and mind.

That’s the true lesson of the birds and flowers and Maggie.

They all live, and even the animals do work for that living. Whether bird or fish or dog or elephant, all go about their day do what they need to do. But perhaps not overwhelmed by worry and anxiety.

That’s what Jesus offers you. The work still remains for you, for me, for the world, to make this a place where food and clothing and shelter and love and safety are shared by all.

But while you do that, try and live like Maggie, Jesus might say. Do your thing faithfully. But receive each moment with joy. Live in trust that you are loved, and all are loved. Be grateful for each moment that is yours to live, to love. Enjoy every sandwich.

And for all this, today, and all days, give thanks.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

Christ Jesus is God’s Truth, and when you abide in him, continue in his Word, listen to his voice, God’s Truth will be known in your lives, for the freeing of the world.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Reign of Christ, Last Sunday after Pentecost, Lect. 34 B
Texts: John 8:33-37 (adding 38a)

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 is truth?” Pilate asks.

He wonders if this bedraggled rabbi in front of him has claimed to be the King of the Jewish people Pilate governs. If he has, he’s a revolutionary, and his sentence must be crucifixion.

Pilate might just want an expedient way out of this trial. But John suggests Pilate really wants to know the truth: who is this Jesus? What’s his game? Give me a clear answer.

For Pilate, truth is an abstract, objective thing, a fact. Yes or no. Simple.

Christians often have agreed with him.

When Christians speak of God’s truth in Christ, it’s often meant objectively.

Truth is facts, statements we can agree or disagree on. In the fourth century, serious arguments about the “truth” of Jesus dominated the thought of Church leaders. Was he really God? Was he truly human? Eventually, what we now call the Nicene Creed emerged as “the truth” about the Triune God, and most extensively, about the Son of God.

The problem is that tricky “agreed upon” part. Those who disagreed with the final version of that Creed ended up on the heretical outside, even though they were faithful Christians. That’s how we do it.

Our group writes down five truths we affirm about God in Christ. Then we see some who only believe four of our five. Worse, their fifth is different, and unacceptable. So we mock them or hate them, and break fellowship with them. In the past, when the Church controlled most of European politics, we just destroyed those who disagreed, killing the children of Christians who had a different set of truths, massacring Muslims and Jews.

Objective truth written on the page that can be argued, agreed upon, fought over, is seductive. You can close your book, certain you are right, and that others are wrong, and sleep easily.

You won’t be following Christ, though.

See, what Pilate doesn’t understand is that Truth is standing right in front of him.

This beaten, abandoned man, is God’s Truth, in the flesh. He says, “everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.” You can’t belong to a doctrine, a teaching, a creed. You can only belong to a someone.

Jesus also called himself the Truth in John 8. He tells those who trusted in him that if they continue in his word, they will know the truth, and the truth will make them free. Minutes later he adds, “If the Son makes you free, you are free indeed.” The Son is the Truth.

On the night of his arrest, when his followers fretted over his news that he was leaving, and wondered where he was going, he said, “I am the Way to where I’m going. I am the Truth. I am the Life.” Jesus didn’t come to teach a truth about God. Jesus is God’s truth for the universe now and always. In person.

Now, this actually sounds just as abstract as saying God’s truth is a thing to write out and and argue about. How is it different that Jesus himself is God’s Truth? What difference does that make to me? you ask? Thankfully, Jesus anticipated your question.

The only way you can know God’s Truth in Christ is to live in it yourself, Jesus says.

In John 8, Jesus said: “If you continue in my word you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.” Living what Jesus taught and lived, makes you a follower, a disciple. You know the Truth in Christ by living in it, not by writing it down and fighting over it.

In John 15, the same horrible night of his arrest, Jesus also told his followers to abide in him. He said, “the commandment I just gave you, to love one another, to wash each other’s feet, to be servants, will be fulfilled when you live in me. Apart from me you can do nothing. Connected to me, like a vine, you will pour God’s love into the world.

And Jesus said to Pilate, “those who belong to the truth listen to my voice.” We know God’s truth when we live it.

And your life, Jesus says, becomes your witness.

The English have a saying, “The proof of the pudding is in the eating.” Christmas pudding is hard to make, and you can’t tell if you did it right until you taste it.

Jesus says to Pilate, if you want proof that I am a King, just look at my followers. They’re my proof. But know that I rule in a very different way than you or other kings in this world do. If I were like you, they’d be fighting to defend me, to keep me from this trial and crucifixion. Those who belong to me, God’s Truth, listen to my voice. And follow. And they’re not fighting.

The only way Christ’s reign is revealed to the world, God’s Truth confirmed, is by the actions, behavior, and love of Christ’s followers.

The proof of the pudding is in the eating.

Do you trust God’s Truth that you are beloved, always, that nothing can separate you from God’s love in Christ? That’s terrific, Jesus says. Now, I’ll know you trust that when you live that. When you, filled with my Spirit, see all of my children as beloved, precious to the Triune God. The proof of your discipleship, your belonging, is in your living.

Do you trust God’s Truth that you are utterly and freely forgiven by God of all that you do, that there is no sin that is not forgiven and forgotten by God in Christ? That’s fantastic, Jesus says. Now, I’ll know you trust that when you live that. When you, abiding in me, forgive all whom you meet, not holding grudges, forgiving even when you’re abandoned or betrayed or hurt or slandered. The proof of your discipleship, your belonging, is in your living.

Do you trust God’s Truth that you are not God’s enemy, that in Christ God has reconciled anything between you and God? That’s wonderful, Jesus says. Now, I will know you trust that when you live that. When you, alive in my Word, love your enemies and seek to be reconciled, pray honestly and deeply for those who hurt you. The proof of your discipleship, your belonging, is in your living.

That’s how the world will know God’s Truth and be free.

Not by us claiming we’ve got all the answers. And certainly not by us fighting with others. The one critical sign Jesus claims today for his followers is that if they follow him, they don’t fight. They don’t hurt. They don’t defend God. Blessed are the peacemakers, Jesus said and meant.

As we continue in God’s Word, listen to Christ’s voice, we live lives of sacrificial love, not power and domination. The proof of our discipleship is in our living that path of Christ we trust for our own lives, that sacrificial love, that vulnerable giving for the sake of the world.

Pilate should have asked, “Who is Truth?”

And for Jesus, the answer goes far beyond himself.

When he rose from the dead he sent the Holy Spirit into the hearts and lives of those who follow, and now Christ does the same and sends you and me into the world saying, “They are now God’s Truth.”

For the world, the proof of the pudding is still in the eating. Who you are, who I am, will either reveal God’s Truth or not.

But thanks be to God for this: when you and I continue in God’s Word, abide in the life of Christ we know and trust for our lives, listen to the voice of Truth, God’s Truth will flow from us. And make us and the whole creation free.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen