All of us are bound tightly by whatever we call them – spirits, passions, vices – and God in Christ has come to set us free.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 21 C
Text: Luke 13:10-17

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

This poor woman suffered for 18 years, bent over double.

But she didn’t come to the synagogue for healing. That was Jesus’ idea, unlike many of his healings. He called her over and said she was set free from her ailment.

After 18 years, this woman probably didn’t ever expect or hope to be better. She just thought, “this is how I will always be, hurting, struggling to breathe, to move.” Today would be just like every other day.

But this day, she was set free. For the first time in two decades, her Sabbath was restful, peaceful, joy.

This physical healing was her great gift. But not for us.

In Jesus’ wonderful healings we don’t really know where we fit in the story. When we, or others we love, are ill, suffering, we pray for healing. We hope for healing. We even demand it at times.

But we also know it’s not as simple as that. Sometimes God has healed loved ones of physical and mental disease. Sometimes the healing given isn’t what we asked for. So centering our worship with these stories, as the Gospel of the Day, is a practical problem. How do they apply to us?

But this story is different. Because Jesus uses language in this episode that opens a door for us to enter this healing. Oddly enough, it’s language we sometimes are too sophisticated and modern to take seriously.

Ancient people often attributed illness to evil spirits, and Jesus’ day did, too.

This woman has painful scoliosis, caused by who knows what. But Luke says she had a “spirit of disease” for 18 years, that’s why she was bent over double. And Jesus goes with this. He doesn’t say, “Be healed.” He says, “you are set free.” The same word describing freeing a prisoner from a cell, or freeing someone from crushing debt.

When the synagogue leader protests this Sabbath healing, Jesus keeps the image. He defeats his fellow rabbi in a classic Jewish debate, declaring that if the lesser thing – untying an ox on the Sabbath for water (one who had only been tied up over night) – is permitted in Torah, then clearly the greater thing – setting free a woman kept in bondage by Satan (one who had been tied up for 18 years) – is also permitted. The rabbi lost, and he and his friends know it. They’re “put to shame,” Luke says. The crowd of common folk hoot and holler at Jesus’ Jewish wisdom and skill.

But here’s your open door: Jesus, God’s Son, has the compassion and power to set free God’s children who are bound. What Jesus did, even if it uses the language of evil spirits, that’s the hope. Because if you can be set free of something you’ve come to believe will always bind you, wouldn’t that be life?

What ties you up, holds your life, and has done for so long you really believe this is the way you will always be?

The ancient Christian desert fathers and mothers shared the same belief in the presence of evil spirits. But they also had a wisdom that could be a great blessing to us.

They developed an understanding of nine spirits of temptation that afflicted people. They believed these spirits could bind us, hold us in their grasp. A few centuries later, Pope Gregory I codified a list of seven of them, unfortunately mislabelling them deadly sins. But the wisdom isn’t about sin that needs punishing. The wisdom is recognizing forces that trap us and shape us.

The list varied, but mostly it was anger, pride, deceit, envy, avarice, fear, gluttony, lust, and disengagement (sometimes called sloth.) Any of us at any time can be bound up by these evils, our forebears taught. They can hold our hearts and minds, affect our behavior, cripple our spirits, break our will.

Now, some of us in this room, in our community, have physical and mental ailments they’d like to be freed from, but not all of us. But everyone in this room, in our community, has at least one of these spirits.

And today Jesus, the Christ, the Son of God, can set you free.

If “evil spirits” sounds a bit superstitious, think of them as controlling passions.

Is anger always lurking behind your heart, resentment at hand, ready to burst out and make a mess of your life, or to hurt others?

Are you trapped by needing to think pridefully of yourself, ready to manipulate things so you come out on top?

Does your vanity bind you, so you lie not only to others but even to yourself, to make yourself look better?

Does the melancholy you feel about your life lead you to envy what others have and who they are?

Is your need for security such that you cling tightly to things, unable to share, greedy for more?

Are you so afraid of life, so anxious, that you live a life of doubt, sometimes unable to move?

Or is something of a good thing never enough, you never feel fulfilled, needing more and more and more?

Do you see others as objects, trying to control them and the world, finding yourself using others?

Or is the world so fractured, so complex, you see no point in acting, no point in engaging, but fall into the boredom of being and doing nothing?

These are the passions that can bind us all, and everyone finds themselves trapped somewhere in these. That’s the wisdom of our forebears.

But God has come in Christ to set you free. Whether you ever thought it possible or not. Whether you came here looking for it or not. Just because God loves you.

That’s your hope: you don’t have to be bound by these.

Naming what binds you, watching for it, so that you know how and what to pray, that’s a good beginning. Once you know your captor’s name, you can learn new ways of thinking and being that lead to wholeness and life, not the bondage of these afflictive passions.

But beginning, middle, and end of it all is asking your God to free you in Christ. Recognizing you have no more power over the passion that binds you than over physical disease, ask God to set you free. To lead you to serenity instead of anger, humility instead of pride, truthfulness instead of deceit, emotional health instead of envy, non-attachment instead of greed, courage instead of fear, sobriety instead of gluttony, vulnerability instead of dominance, and action instead of disengagement.

The Triune God has sent you the Holy Spirit to live in you and give you life, to break any chains that bind you, trap you, block you from the abundant life God intends you to know. Nothing can separate you from God’s love in Christ, not even that thing that has held you so long.

That’s the joy the leader missed seeing.

Keeping Sabbath pales in comparison to God freeing someone from what binds and holds them. Rather than being indignant, he could have rejoiced with this woman, with the crowds, that God had done such a glorious thing.

And so can you. You can not only ask God to set you free, every day. You can also be one who sets others free, rather than binding them. Give an ox a drink, or a cup of water to someone thirsty. Call an old woman over to love her in Christ. Look out for the ones who are bound and find a way to give them hope, or, if you can, untie them. You can bear God’s freeing grace in your actions, your words, your love, and your witness to what it’s like to be freed.

Unlike this woman, being set free from these things takes a lot of time. A lifetime. We’re all in the state of being freed, and all in the business of helping others find the freeing touch of God in Christ. Until all, oxen and humans, are set free: to live, and drink water, and stand up straight, and praise God’s goodness together.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

 

Following Christ is painful and hard, but it’s the path to life, and Jesus and the saints surround and encourage you every step of the way, filling your life with abundance even in the challenge.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Tenth Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 20 C
Texts: Luke 12:49-56 (adding back in 39-48); Hebrews 11:29 – 12:2

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

“Are you telling this parable for us or for everyone?”

Peter has a hopeful thought. Maybe last week’s parable about alert servants doing their absent master’s work is meant for other people. Others might not be alertly doing God’s work, but surely not our faithful little inside group?

We read the verses between last week’s Gospel and today’s because Peter’s question and Jesus’ blistering reply help explain Jesus’ words today. Peter seems to want a free pass from being ready at all times, and because Jesus is nearing his death, and anxious the disciples aren’t understanding, Jesus blurts out a horrible story of drunken slaves beating others and being terribly punished.

Yes, Peter, it’s for you, Jesus says. You’re all the insiders. And to whom much is given, much is required.

Which gets us to today’s Gospel. We’ve heard a series of lessons and parables about God’s reign for some weeks. Now Jesus, the Prince of Peace, says division and family infighting among those who wish to follow him are inevitable results of living in God’s reign.

“Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth?” Jesus says.

“No, I bring division! From now on even families will be divided.” We so wish we could skip these words.

But we can’t. We pretend he was this innocuous, easy-going person, but Jesus was killed for what he taught and lived. The reason he’s so anxious and even angry in this episode is that he’s under tremendous stress, knowing he’s heading toward his death, something that will be brutal and horrifying, something he wishes could be over and done with.

Don’t make fun of Peter. We also hope that maybe Jesus is talking about someone else, not you, not me. Unfortunately, that’s not the case.

That’s because we’re called to follow Jesus, and we know where he went.

Jesus will be killed for what he embodied and taught. He asks us to follow him in the same vulnerable, self-giving love, embodying God’s love and grace for the world, risking whatever we need to to share that love in our own bodies and lives.

The letter to the Hebrews says the same. In this amazing laundry list of heroes of the faith, the hardships that the faithful endured for serving God are astonishing. They witness to the challenge of following Christ.

Gideon, on the Hebrews list, was a hero of mine as a child, but there’s a part of the story we often forget. Right after he’s called by God to lead the Israelites against the oppression of the Midianites, the first thing he’s asked to do is tear down his father’s public altar to Baal, and the sacred pole next to it, using his father’s second best ox. Then he’s to chop up the altar and the pole, and burn that second best ox on the wood as a purifying sacrifice to God.

The townspeople are predictably enraged, and though his father defended him, how do you think Gideon initially felt about that request? To follow God is to potentially stand against even your closest family.

So, what are we supposed to do?

First, realize Jesus didn’t come intending to cause division.

Jesus’ very presence, the Good News he proclaims and embodies, is what will split his followers apart from each other, and from those who don’t follow. Following the way of Christ is not only hard, individually and collectively, it can lead to divisions, pain, and suffering. The history of the Church, the history of our own lives, is riddled with divisions caused by people seeking faithfully to serve Christ, and suffering incurred by people following faithfully.

Today’s witnesses tell us if we’re making our decisions in hopes that no one is offended, or acting only when it doesn’t inconvenience us or hurt us, we’re not being faithful servants of Christ. Unity and comfort are not the goal of faithfulness.

Faithfulness is to follow where our discernment tells us God is leading, regardless of consequences.

We can’t let our fear of division or setback or even suffering keep us from doing what we believe our Lord and Master is calling us to do.

This means we need to learn how to faithfully discern the calling of the Triune God. Learn to understand when we are at a crossroads, where to look for guidance and advice, how to listen to other believers and to each other and to the Church, and to how Christ speaks to us.

But when we’ve done that to the best of our ability, and when we feel we know where the Spirit is leading, we’d best do what we know is our path, no matter how hard. Whether it’s speaking out on our nation’s abuse and destruction of families at the border, to risking your own well-being to help someone in poverty, or standing up to violence and hatred with resistant, persistent love, this path of Christ isn’t easy. But it’s also the path of God’s life.

That’s the gift Hebrews reveals today.

Division and pain aren’t the goal or the end, there’s something more. We are “surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses,” Hebrews writes, “let us lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us.”

These faithful ones of the last two millennia stand in the stadium around you, encouraging you in your fear and worry, cheering you on in your faithful discipleship. All the saints of old and those you knew are your models in discipleship. They witness that ordinary people like you can be faithful, even in the face of threats and suffering. They tell you, “all will be well.”

All will be well, because Jesus is ahead of you on the journey, even facing death to bring you life. Your cloud of witnesses surrounds you in joy, pointing your eyes to the One who has faced worse than you will, and who loves you beyond life itself.

And all will be well because the cross-shaped path is the one where true abundant life is found, true love, true grace, true wholeness. As Jesus modeled and taught, losing for the sake of unconditional love is actually winning, and the costs are nothing compared to the peace of a life centered in Christ.

Elsewhere, Jesus says to the disciples, “Be of good cheer, for I have overcome the world.”

That is your word of hope, and ours together, as we seek to be faithful followers. We will need courage, and the one who overcame the world will give that. Courage to follow Christ’s call honestly and openly, without dodging or ignoring, without seeking an easy way around.

It won’t be easy. It never is. But you are always with Christ in all this cross-shaped journey of God’s abundant life, and you have these witnesses at your side. You are never alone.

Yes, it’s for you, Jesus says. It’s for me. It’s for all. Thank God for that.

In the name of Jesus. Amen

 

Mary faithfully and joyfully proclaims the justice of God’s reign as a reality, despite the conditions of the world around her and the complexities of her own life, because she knows and trusts God.

Vicar Bristol Reading
The Feast of Mary, Mother of Our Lord
Text: Luke 1:46-55

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’m so grateful we don’t have to wait until December to hear this Gospel text, which we read every year in Advent, because we need to hear it now.

These days, the world feels heavy with injustice. We awake daily to news of more gun violence, more political conflict, more racial fear-mongering, more accounts of abuse, more people in desperate need. In the midst of all this, Mary’s pronouncement that God’s strength is on the side of the vulnerable shines like a beacon in darkness.

In God’s reign, the powers of the world are turned upside down.

The rich and proud, who seemed untouchable and unshakable, are brought down low. Their authority and money cannot protect them. It is the lowly, the poor, the forgotten people on the margins who are lifted up. Those who have gone wanting will find more than enough at the table of God’s banquet. This is the promise of an ever-faithful God that Mary declares.

And yet, the same heaviness of the world that makes me so eager to hear this message now is also what makes it difficult to trust that promise.

The reality we see around us doesn’t match the vision that Mary describes. We feel overwhelmed, exhausted, doubtful that justice will come. We cry out: When will God’s might tear the tyrants from their thrones? When will God’s strong arm scatter the proud of heart? When will God’s goodness satisfy the hungry? Our context can convince us that these things are impossible.

But if we think that Mary’s context made it any easier to believe in God’s world-changing justice, then we are underestimating the reality she faced.

In the words of this Gospel passage, we hear the voice of a young woman speaking to us across centuries and continents. We cannot know much about what her life was like. But we do know that she was not a person of great wealth or means. She would have held little power in her culture, and when she found herself pregnant, but unmarried, her options would have become even more limited.

Why did she claim so confidently that God was paying attention to the people society ignored? How did a woman whose future looked so bleak declare such a bold vision of God’s righteous power in the world?

She experienced it personally.

Mary might have been marginal and unimportant according to the world’s standards, but not according to God’s.

Her situation may have endangered her future in her community, but not her favor in God’s sight. God noticed her. God knew her. Loved her. Chose her. It is she who will be the one to bear the incarnate presence of God among humanity. Can you imagine? Not a woman who is royal, or wealthy, or famous… but Mary, a Jew from a small town in the corner of the Roman occupation.

Mary’s very body bears witness to God’s regard for the those whom the world undervalues. She knows that God is with her and that God is for her, as God is for any who are vulnerable. She trusts that God’s spirit is transforming her and transforming the world.

And for that, she rejoices.

When she hears the news of her unexpected and inexplicable pregnancy, Mary holds fast to her faith and accepts the life that comes to her. Despite the complexity of her circumstances, she is overjoyed.

And she expects that everyone else will be, too. Mary seems completely unconcerned with what other people might think of her situation. She confidently declares that people for generations and generations to come will see that this pregnancy, this thing that has happened to her – is a complete blessing.

God is coming into the world.

And Mary just cannot keep that to herself. Her soul is bursting with this good news; she cannot contain it!

Mary doesn’t just share a word of God’s goodness – she proclaims it!

“My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my savior!” No wonder her words are so well set to music – she is singing with wonder at this event that is not only about her, but about all people. God’s righteousness is for all humanity.

None of this is theoretical or contingent for Mary – it’s already a reality. She doesn’t say God might fill the hungry with good things, or God will eventually, someday lift up the lowly. She says God has done this. That is proclamation.

Of course, Mary’s pregnancy doesn’t suddenly solve all the suffering and injustice of the world. It doesn’t even solve her own struggles. She’s still a Jewish woman living under Roman occupation. Her life as the mother of Jesus will not be easy, and she will be at foot of the cross when her son, the Light of the world, dies as a criminal.

The complete fulfillment of God’s kingdom is beyond Mary’s lifetime, as it is beyond the lives of all the saints who came after her.

The spirit of God who is at work in Mary’s life was at work in the world long before Jesus was born and will be at work in the world long after Jesus dies. Mary doesn’t know how everything will work out, and yet she proclaims God’s justice as a reality. Because she knows who God is. She knows God is faithful, merciful, and intimately present with her in the midst of her life’s joy and pain. We know that God, too, the same God that Mary, the mother of our Lord, our ancestor in faith, trusted with all her heart, with all her life.

From Mary, we learn to be attentive to where God’s spirit is moving in a hurting world.

We learn to respond with joy and gratitude when we experience God’s blessing in our lives, and to have faith that God still sees us, still knows us, still loves us when we experience suffering.

We, like Mary, can say ‘yes’ to participating in God’s reign on earth in all its compassionate justice, knowing that God is working even through us, knowing that we cannot grow weary of doing good, even when the fruits of our labor are beyond our lifetimes. When we look at the world and feel overwhelmed by pain and need and violence, we still trust in the God we know because that is an act of strong, subversive faith.

And we don’t keep it to ourselves. We proclaim the good news that never stops being an astounding message of hope: God is coming into the world!

Amen.

God invites you to a life of abundance and joy, living in God’s way for your life and for the life of the world.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Ninth Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 19 C
Texts: Luke 12:32-40; Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16; Isaiah 1:1, 10-20

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

A few weeks ago we heard the disciples ask Jesus to teach them to pray.

One thing he taught them: pray, “your kingdom come.” Today we hear this marvelous promise from Jesus: “Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.”

Ask for God to rule in your life, Jesus says, and know God is delighted to make that happen.

So if we’re unaware of God’s kingdom in our lives, if we’re not following God, it’s not because we haven’t asked. We pray the Lord’s Prayer all the time. And it’s not because God doesn’t want to give this; this is God’s dream, God’s pleasure.

So, maybe our problem is that we don’t want to live under God’s rule right now. Martin Luther, teaching the Lord’s Prayer in the Small Catechism, said God’s kingdom, God’s reign, surely happens without our praying for it, but in this prayer we ask that it come to us.

Maybe we don’t have it because we just don’t want this gift.

God’s Word today is very helpful for this, because we hear exactly what God’s kingdom is.

Jesus can be confusing when he talks of God’s rule and reign. Sometimes he speaks as if it’s the life to come after we die. Sometimes he says it’s near, within us right now. Sometimes we can’t tell which he means.

Today we see the truth: God’s kingdom isn’t a geography, a place you go to. It’s simply everywhere God’s will is done, everywhere God rules and reigns. Calling God’s kingdom the “reign” of God might be more helpful, because we see we’re not talking about either here or there, but a quality of life, a way of obedience, that exists now and of course in the life to come after death.

Remember Jesus’ prayer: “your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as in heaven.” God reigns wherever God’s will is done. Both now and forever. On earth and in heaven.

And today, God’s Word gives clear signs of what God’s reign looks like, when God rules as God wills.

Our first vision begins with Isaiah, who shares a message with a number of the Hebrew prophets.

God’s prophets, including Isaiah today, knew most certainly that God’s reign is anywhere justice prevails. God’s reign exists when those who are most vulnerable are protected and cared for. God’s reign exists when no one is poor or hungry or in need. This we also get from Jesus today. Jesus’ first command for living in God’s reign is to free yourself from the tyranny of your possessions, and share with those in need until no one is in need.

It would be nearly impossible to miss this vision in Scripture unless you deliberately wanted to avoid the truth. God’s longing for a world of justice and peace, abundance and life, safety and joy, fills both the Hebrew Scriptures and the writings of the New Testament. Again and again God raises up prophets like Isaiah to call God’s people to live in such a way that they look like God is truly in charge.

Today, Isaiah joins several prophets in condemning the worship life of Israel. But Isaiah and the others condemn people acting as if worshipping God is living in God’s reign. The prophets are clear: live in God’s reign first, care for those who are poor, do justice, be kind, share all you have. Then, in that life in God’s reign, your worship is worth doing, and blessed both to you and to God.

Another way to recognize God’s reign is that those who live in it live for others, not themselves.

This is what happens when you start living in justice, sharing all, loving as God loves, as Isaiah calls. Your life is focused on caring for others, looking out for others’ needs. This is God’s reign.

Jesus’ parable of the alert servants doing their jobs while their master is away is all about this. Jesus says that if you choose to live under God’s reign, you willingly put yourself under God’s service. You choose God’s work above all. And God’s work is always serving others.

Again, it would be impossible to miss Jesus’ modeling of this, or his call to his followers to be servants to each other, unless you were trying to avoid seeing it. It’s one of the deepest taproots to Jesus’ understanding of discipleship, and a clear sign of God’s reign.

The last view we see today is this gift from Hebrews: living in God’s reign doesn’t always mean seeing it in full.

This beautiful meditation on faith reminds us that faith isn’t believing in specific teachings, it’s trusting God, living in relationship with God, and following.

But living in God’s reign means trusting in God’s goodness and promise, even if you don’t see it bearing fruit all the time. The long list of faithful followers Hebrews begins today with Abraham, continues in next week’s reading, and it has one thing in common: these all relied on God and followed in trust, even though none lived to see God’s promise in Christ fulfilled.

This is the real treasure in heaven Jesus talks about. You might not see everything healed, everything restored, God’s way of justice and peace in all things, as you faithfully live into God’s reign. The fulfilling of God’s dream of a world of blessing, justice, abundance, and peace, might not happen in your lifetime. But your treasure is that God is good, and Christ will bring about this reign that God dreams for.

And as Hebrews says, it doesn’t matter what you actually see fulfilled. Just be faithful and rely on God. Or, as Jesus says, just always be about God’s work. Or as Isaiah says, learn to do good. That’s enough.

Don’t be afraid. God’s pleasure is to bring you into this reign of God, welcome you into this way of being that brings life.

The Triune God dreams of a day when this will be true in all this world, with all creatures. But God’s reign and rule are very different from earthly rule. God has no police force to keep you in line or punish you when you live otherwise. God has no army to defend God’s way of life.

God rules by invitation, and by empowering. By sending people to you to call you to this way, in hopes that you’ll see it’s the only way to find abundance and joy, even in this painful world. By going to a cross, not using power and might even to stop the death of God’s Son, so that you and the universe could see that such vulnerable love destroys evil’s power and brings unstoppable life. By sending you the Holy Spirit to empower your servant life under God.

The invitation is yours: Come, live in the joy of God’s reign, for your sake, and the sake of the world. What will you do with it?

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

 

When idols take up too much space in our hearts, we can neglect our relationship with God, who remains faithful even in the midst of our unfaithfulness and continually calls us back in love.

Vicar Bristol Reading
The Eighth Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 18 C
Texts: Hosea 11:1-11, Luke 12: 13-21, 32-34

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

‘Idolatry’ is one of those words that sounds really biblical and serious, but also a little archaic and obscure.

When we speak of idols today, we’re usually referring to pop culture icons, people to be adored and emulated. We think of “American Idol” before we think of statues of foreign gods. But the biblical writers took idolatry seriously.

This morning we read from Hosea, a Hebrew prophet who was highly critical of idolatry in ancient Israel. Wanting to ensure that their families and their fields were sufficiently fertile, the Israelites had taken to offering sacrifices and incense to Baal, a tribal fertility god whose popularity was on the rise during the Hosea’s life. This was a betrayal of Israel’s covenant with God, who had clearly commanded them to worship no other gods. Hosea tried to convince his people that God was not very pleased about their behavior. He used his own fractured family as an allegory for the strained relationship between God and the people. We heard last week the story of Hosea symbolically naming his children Lo-Ruhamah, which means “No-Mercy,” and Lo-Ammi, which means “Not-My-People.” In one translation God says to Hosea, “Name your child Nobody, because you’ve all become nobodies to me and I, God, am a nobody to you” (Hosea 1:9, The Message).

This is the impact of idolatry: We start paying a little more attention to idols, and a little less attention to God.

We start trusting idols a little more than we trust God. These objects of adoration and devotion become a source of life and meaning, and eventually God become a nobody to us. Now maybe you and I have never experienced a Canaanite fertility god having such an impact on us, but Baals aren’t the only kinds of idols.

The apostle Paul reminds us in Colossians that greed is also idolatry (Colossians 3:5).

The insatiable desire to have more and more material stuff, the secret envy of other people’s lifestyles and possessions, the endless endeavor for wealth and success… These are idols with which we are more familiar. They can start to take up too much space in our hearts, to demand an ever-increasing percentage of our effort and focus. Greed is idolatry because enough is never enough. When we get caught up in the idolatry of greed, we can end up like the wealthy landowner in Jesus’ parable, achieving material security but disregarding our dependence on God. This man has forgotten his own mortality, and all the supposed ‘treasure’ he has stored up is good for nothing when he comes unexpectedly to the end of his life. The problem is not that he paid attention to his physical life; it’s that he neglected his inner life. The problem is not that he was financially successful; it’s that he did not address his spiritual poverty. The problem is not that he became a somebody in his community; it’s that he let God become a nobody in his life. He let his wealth and savings play a role that only God can play. He found his identity in his own merit, instead of his being a beloved creation of God. And in the end, those idols left the landowner empty-handed.

At the conclusion of the parable Jesus says, “Where your treasure is, your heart will be also.” So make sure the treasure you give your heart to is the real deal.

Don’t commit your time, your energy, your loyalty, your adoration, your trust to treasures that can wear out or be stolen – treasures that need bigger and bigger barns just to store them. In the end, those things cannot be depended on. Eventually idols leave us wanting, Whatever our particular ‘treasure’ looks like – career success, personal appearance, intellectual knowledge – These can be good things in our lives, but they cannot be God over our lives. We can’t stake our lives on anything but God.

When we allow idols to take the place of God, God is heartbroken.

Hosea’s description of God’s response to the people’s idolatry is striking. He expresses God’s heartache as that of a parent whose children have betrayed their relationship. God is like a fiercely protective father, remembering how he held his children’s hands as they learned to walk, lamenting that the children have now rejected his care. God is like a tender mother, reaching down to feed her children, keeping them safe at every moment, grieving that her children have now forgotten that it was she who sustained them and raised them.

Hosea’s words describe a God who is devastated by the people’s unfaithfulness, and yet, this is what God decides: “I could never give up on my children. I could never destroy them.”

This is not a God of destruction and punishment, but a God of life and forgiveness, a God who has wrestled with the reality of human brokenness and has decided to be a force of grace and healing. Those people who chose idols over God, they aren’t called “Not-my-people” after all. They are called “Children of the living God.” They aren’t called “No-Mercy.” They are called “Complete Compassion.” God roars like a lioness calling her cubs back to her. No matter how far away from her they run, she will guide them home. God’s faithfulness is not like the faithfulness of humans; it never wavers. God never leaves. “I am the Holy One in your midst,” God declares (Hosea 11:9). God always desires to be in deeper relationship with us and continually draws us back.

We need to notice the things in our lives that crowd out God’s loving voice, that strain our relationship with God, and to stop giving those things so much attention and power.

What are the idols that are gaining too tight a hold over your heart, the things that are being treated like precious treasure but will never actually be as satisfying as they claim to be? Don’t build bigger barns to give those things more room in your life.

Invest instead in the parts of your life that make you more aware of the presence of the Holy One already in your midst.

Be attentive to God’s voice in your heart. Nurture the habits that help you deepen your relationship with God who loves you – whether that’s silence, worship, prayer, fellowship, service, or just… rest… God, the source of abundant life, is always with you. God, will never leave you, and will never leave you empty.

Amen.