It's all in how you frame the moment.

Right in the middle of Matsiko's visit with us, Jennifer and I were out at Watson Farms. 

After saying good-bye to the children of Matsiko for the morning, I rushed over the farm. There I found Jennifer and Emma waiting for me bundled under a blanket. It was a cloudy morning--well it was a cold morning by South Carolina standards. The wind was whipping across the field and cutting through her jacket. The weather report indicated that rain could come at some point during the day as well. 

Jennifer had a craft fair at the farm and today she was selling her soy candles and lap quits.

As I walked up to her, I carried a fresh cup of coffee in a travel mug and 20 pounds of weights for the canopy that she was sitting under. It was a precarious walk that I made. Emma was holding one of the canopy legs down. Again the wind was strong and as I plopped down the weights I relaxed a bit. "That should hold things in place," I thought.

Emma left to run errands and for the next several hours Jennifer and I greeted people and enjoyed our time together. But like I said, it was cold. . . oh so cold. 

Routinely I would have to stand and hold the tent legs from blowing away. The 20 pounds of weights were not enough to keep things in place. I smiled. This was not the worst thing that could happen today. But I could see in Jennifer's eye that she was struggling with the cold. Wrapped tightly in her blanket she tried to make the best of a hard day. She found her gloves in her coat and it helped--some. 

Shortly after lunch a woman came to our tent and talked with Jennifer. Upon leaving I witnessed an interesting moment. I could tell the woman was cold--just like us. Her hair was blowing around and she did not plan well to be outside. She walked behind our tent into the field holding her son by the hand. 

Stooping down she began speaking with him in a hushed voice. Then, reaching into her pocket she pulled out her phone and snapped a picture of what I thought was a weed. The wind blowing this knee-high yellow flower around. To this day I do not know what the flower was. She showed the picture to the boy and they headed off to enjoy the rest of their time together. Both smiling at what they just did.  

It was still cold and within the hour it began to rain. 

But in that moment, with a cold wind blowing around all of us, one person chose to see the beauty that was right before her. I guess that is a lesson that we can all learn. I wonder where is the place today that you can find God at work right before you? In the mess and pain of the day, can you see the beauty that is right before you from God? 

10 Lepers--Sermon Preached on October 13, 2025

             What a week we have just concluded as the Church. Last week I said, “If one generation becomes ashamed of the gospel and does not risk testimony, how will the next generation know [or learn it]?”[1]

            What we have just done in the name of the Lord, together, shows that we want the community, our neighbors, perfect strangers even, to know the gospel and to know the one whose name is written in that gospel. We are not ashamed of the gospel or of the one whose gospel it is. 

546 lunches were handed out. And while we might chuckle as we say, ‘I never want to see another turkey and cheese or PB&J,’ if a child came to our church, or if we know of one that needed a sandwich one tomorrow, I have no doubt that you, Bethesda, would care for both the family and the child. You would make that sandwich. 

For as I told some of my colleagues, when we can see the places where we can Be the Church, we cannot un-see those same places tomorrow. Your eyes are open, and you see where the gospel is needed.   

            You see once you experience the loving care from God, and once you participate in that care, it seems to easily flow from you to the other person. Giving out a sandwich, which was the first step, becomes just that… the first step. It does not mean we condone anything we saw, but instead, we are not ashamed to take Jesus into that place with us and as we handed out those paper bags of food to people, we hoped that feel the gospel living in us.

            

            Today we have a familiar story. The 10 lepers. We know them. You have been taught what they do, and you have considered why they do it. Yet I wonder if the miracle of their healing is more involved than what it appears on the surface? 

You see if the miracle is deeper, if it is far wider than what it appears to be on the surface, then the transformation is a thing that we can experience as well. And more than just experiencing something deeper and wider, we can share it as well, and the sharing of any miracle—be it leprosy being healed or sandwiches handed out children who need it—that is something that spreads the gospel. 

Move 1- the disease.

            So, what is the disease in the text? 

            Luke says that these men were inflicted with: LEPROS: a chronic skin condition that we might refer to today as Hansen’s disease. And as we have read about leprosy in the scriptures, there is some familiarity with it in our minds. We have some idea of what it could look like. Yet Matthew Theissen, as he studies this text and the word LEPROS, wonders if we shouldn’t widen our gaze and widen our definition of lepros. He says: 

The sloughing off [or flaking off] of the skin that resembles a decomposing corpse point[s] to the origins of impurity: death. Here [in our text], Jesus resists this deadly force, the very source of the impurity, not just healing a disease but battling the encroachment of death upon human life. In short, this is a healing that points to Jesus’ extraordinary power to defeat death and its minions even before he faces a Roman cross and a tomb.[2]

            So, again I wonder, what is the disease? What is Jesus healing these 10 individuals of? Is this physical? Are these 10 people just sick with something that will separate them from the rest of society and force them to stay away from the rest of the church? 

Is spiritual? Is what they are dealing with so bad that they are not allowed to come to church or worship with the rest of their community? Or is it more? Is it more divisive? And of course, I suspect you know I will say the answer is: Yes. 

Their physical bodies are healed as this skin-flaking-off disease is driven away by Jesus. 

At the same time, their spiritual bodies are also healed in this moment by the Lord. For there is, perhaps, much more afflicting these 10 people than just a disease that makes them unable to be with other people because their skin is flaking off as Matthew Theissen suggests in his words. For Jesus, in his life and work, is not only defeating physical sickness but Jesus is beating back the very power of death itself. 

I wonder if in that conclusion and consideration we can find space to enter into this text and find some room ourselves to dwell in the story? For one person, one sick person… returns.  

Move 2- one returns.

            For if the healing is more than just a physical action (as I believe that it is), then the by-product of the healing in our text is more life changing also than a disease being driven off—or away. 

Jesus did not only drive away sickness from 10 individuals who yelled to him from a distance off. But I wonder if we can agree that He drove away so much more from these people. And further, if the Savior drove away so much more from these lepers, then the Church’s response after the healing, speaks volumes about their faith, about their worship, and our understanding of the Lord. 

            But let’s not get too far ahead of the story. . . 

            As we know, Jesus tells all 10 of them to go show themselves to the priest—and we can presume that they do this. We can infer that they turn on their heels and immediately head off searching for the local priest. A whisper on their minds and in their hearts. Something is going to happen. Something is happening. I bet they get a bit excited and wonder what will it feel like? 

            We do not know how it happens. Was it sudden? Was it slow? Did this healing take place as each step is taken almost like a progression as they drew themselves closer and closer to the priest’s physical location—which would be the Temple, right? The church building, huh. 

            You can almost feel the joy growing in them… step by step. I wonder what it felt like inside that first person to notice that something inside was changing. They were different. Becoming different! I bet they started running as they become more and more whole. And as they became different, they continue following what Jesus’ said and arrived at their destination. 

            He told them in verse 14, ‘go and show yourselves to the priest.’ This was what was required to verify that an unclean individual was once again clean—or healed. They were doing what Jesus told them to do. This is not an act of sin or defiance. Not one of these nine people is taking matters into their own hands. Rather they are following what Jesus said to do. 

            Yet after the healing takes place, only one person realizes that not only is their outside healed but their inside is cleansed as well. Restored. Remade. Not only is their physical body healed but the spiritual body is also healed in a way that exceeds any of their expectations as they approached Jesus on that road that day. This is where I feel the true miracle lies and this is where the repeatable message takes place.

 

            And your whole body is healed by the Lord, I believe there is only one proper response available to you. The response is the one given by the last leper who comes back to Jesus. 

            Testimony in the form of praise and worship of Jesus. 

Move 3- Giving thanks

            For one person. One man, realized that not only is his outside healed, which was the first miracle that he asked for, but his inside is cleansed as well. And when this realization hits him there is only one thing that he can do. He returns. 

            And returning to Jesus, he un-ashamedly falls before Jesus and the Word says, ‘he gave thanks.’ He had many options at his disposal in this moment. He could continue on his way, as he was told to do. But instead of all that, he came back to Jesus and put away any other thoughts for himself and thanked God for what the Lord has done in his life. 

            For when a miracle, regardless of how you quantify it, happens with you there is only one thing to do… give thanks to God. 

            The man was changed, inside and outside both, and he knew it. So, he came back to the Lord and just wanted to say thank you. That is the same response that we can offer ourselves for what we have experienced this week with Matsiko and with the lunch program for both experiences are transformational. 

            And as we have given ourselves to them, sure our feet hurt, and we are tired, but we are also changed, and we are not ashamed of the gospel, and we want to thank the Lord for the wonderful things that we can see which happened. 

Conclusion

            But the choice remains ours—as it remained the lepers. Everyone was healed… all 10. But the one who came back to the Lord, I wonder if he received something special from the Lord? A blessing by just being close to Jesus. 

  

DM

---

[1] Olive Elaine Hinnant. From Feasting on the Word. Year C, Volume 2. 

[2] https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-28-3/commentary-on-luke-1711-19-6  accessed on October 6, 2025. 

 

Our History--2 Timothy 1:1-14. Sermon preached on World Community Sunday 2025

            “If one generation becomes ashamed of the gospel and does not risk testimony, how will the next generation know [or learn it]?”[1] This is the challenge of the church faces. It is the challenge of today, and it will be the challenge of tomorrow. It has also been the challenge that we faced in our history locally. 

            As we face next week with the joy of Matsiko, and the pressure of our lunch program with the children of York, this is our challenge as well. Joy mixed with challenge. Mission facing struggle. Testimony intersecting with history. 

If we become ashamed of the gospel and do not risk the work of testimony the then next generation will not know of the Lord—they will not learn and they may not hear. Now I know you will look at me, as I have looked at myself in the mirror in preparing for next week and offered the same response, and said:

“But I am not ashamed of the gospel or of the Lord. 

I will do what God calls me to do.”

            Yet our text today is a reminder, as is the Table which is set before us. They both state that sometimes we need to take a moment and breathe in the Spirit of the Lord. For as we have talked about over the last couple of weeks together, the pressures, and the traumas, and the general sense of suffering in this world—a sense of suffering that we will see as we hand our lunches this week, and even as we hug the children of Matsiko and enjoy supper on Tuesday, it could cause us to forget our faith and lose our history. 

            This does not mean that we stop believing. But when we are confronted by so much, the words of Paul’s second letter to Timothy are necessary. “Then, as now, rejection and suffering looms as threats to people of faith.”[2]

            This is where we fall back onto our history… and we. . .remember. 

Move 1- history.

            Digging into our text, Paul reminds Timothy of those who came before him. But before he can remind Timothy of his personal spiritual history, Paul has an important single word to say to his disciple. It is the word: tears. 

            First occurring in the gospel of Luke when an unnamed woman wipes our Savior’s feet with her hair because her tears had flowed down upon Jesus’ feet, this is a visceral word. It is a word of passion. In fact, tears are often accompanied with great out pouring of passion. 

            When Paul uses the word for tears in verse 5, he often associates them with a sense of saying good-bye to someone, or a church, that he loves deeply. Tears come with memory and feelings of affection. In this case tears represent the shepherds deep, tender, compassionate, care for the flock that God has entrusted to that person. In this case that flock is the person of Timothy. 

            It is Timothy’s tears that Paul is aware of. Paul recalls Timothy’s tears as he spends time in prayer with the Lord. And because of that apparent pain, regardless of its nature, those tears move Paul to remind Timothy of the historic testimony of those who came before young Timothy. For Timothy, like you and me, we stand on ground that others have shared and taught us. It is our combined spiritual history that is with us. 

            Timothy is not the first person in the world to display faith, and Timothy is also not the first person to bring forth a tearful response when someone reflects upon the life that is lived in the society and space of this world. 

            Lois. Eunice. Or whoever’s name you would like to insert into that moment. They speak a word of testimony that Paul says is there to remind Timothy of God’s presence and are to ‘rekindle the gift that God gave you.’ (verse 6). And what is that gift? This not “works righteousness” and it is not outdoing the other person in matters of faith. It is not only faith but a testimony to share with others as well. 

            Timothy, whether he knows it or not, is standing on the shoulders of those who came before him. This testimony is the gift. You and I, whether we feel it or not, in this very moment, with ministry happening all around us, are standing shoulder to shoulder with those who came before us. It is God’s gift to us as well when the work of Being the Church is hard, and we feel pressed upon and wonder how will we remain faithful in our context. 

Move 2- it helps

            In this moment, we expect Paul to pivot and offer Timothy a pep talk. To tell him, and the church to basically, ‘get up and snap to it for we have work to do.’ But he does not. 

I wish that he did. I truly wish that he would. There are in fact times that I need Paul to do so. Times when the burdens of daily ministry and the prospect of what it looks like, like what we might see next week, could benefit from a little bit of that type of language. But again, Paul does not do this. 

            Instead, Paul moves into a discourse where he talks about more suffering. 

            He uses words like ‘prisoner,’ and tells his disciple that he will ‘suffer for the gospel.’ Not exactly what I bet Timothy thought he would hear from Paul in this second letter. Paul mixes suffering into a conversation about ‘calling’ and says that as we are called by God to be present in this community, or in any community where we are sent, that we should stand together with Jesus and be not ashamed of what is coming because we have put our trust in the Lord. 

            And in all of this, I think it is a reminder of our history yet again. For when the struggles come. Timothy should look back, he should bring to mind those who came before him, as we do here at Bethesda, and we should be reminded of the good treasure that God has given us. The true treasure that we hand out next week with those lunch bags—the treasure of the love of God. 

            For that helps us when the work of the Lord becomes too much and we feel the tears breaking through and we want to break down (and we do break down). Our history reminds of God’s faithfulness through the generations in the testimony of those we love and those who too are called to serve. 

Conclusion

            This does not mean the work is always easy and the burden is always light and gentle. Frankly it is often much more of a hard task. But this table reminds us, as we serve the Lord, of those who came before of, and as we work together, it, like the Lord who called us, is enough. 

 

DM

---

[1] Olive Elaine Hinnant. From Feasting on the Word. Year C, Volume 2. 

[2] Feasting on the Word, Year C, Volume 2, page 136. 

Seeing Lazarus--Luke 16:19-31

            I wonder if you have seen Lazarus. And more than just seeing Lazarus, because many of us might be tempted to say that we have seen Lazarus. . . but have you cared for him? 

Our text is not just about the rich man being aware of the needs around him, but of the scriptural mandate of caring for others. 

“There’s an old story about heaven and hell [that you are perhaps familiar with in some variation]. An individual was sent by God to visit both places. As she approached hell, she could hear the sound of great wailing coming from inside, so she was surprised to see beautiful gates and beyond them a banquet table laden with food—wonderful food spread out as far as she could see. 

The people were clean and well dressed — there was no sign of a furnace [or any tortuous expected behavior]. But the people were strangely shaped. Each had long arms with no joint at their elbow. They could pick up food from the table, but they couldn’t get the food to their mouths. So, they cried in anguish.

Suddenly this same person was transported to heaven. 

They were alarmed to see a very similar scene. Banquet tables laden with food, everyone dressed finely as well — people with long arms that also they couldn’t bend. But there were only songs and laughter here. No cries of anguish. For here the people of heaven reached across the table and they fed each other.”

            This text asks the reader to consider a simple question: “As we have encountered the gospel, and learn the gospel, what is required of us when we meet Lazarus?”

            For the disciples, and future followers of Jesus like us, these words cause us to wonder about how we might define caring for someone else as we hear and respond to the message of Jesus.

            Have you seen Lazarus?

Move 1- setting up the text

            Our text begins with Jesus offering the audience a parable. In our story we have a rich man who is un-named. This allows us to not focus directly on this individual and chastise him for how he came to his wealth for he is a representation of something that lives all around us.

            We do not know how he gained his riches, and it would also be a mistake to assume that he achieved his financial freedom through ill-gotten gains. Do not make the mistake of thinking that he exploited or harmed his community to get rich. He isn’t a Roman tax collector, like Zacheaus, who we know might be on the take based on his employment. 

            No, this man, who is likely young, is a Hebrew. And it appears he is, at least on the surface, a faithful individual. 

He knows of the laws Moses, and he has some familiarity with the covenant of God with Father Abraham. He speaks to Father Abraham as if they are acquaintances (distant but acquainted) . . . almost like he’s heard these stories in worship, or Sunday school, or at Vacation Bible School. And by hearing the stories, he also knew what God asked of him. This is the unnamed rich man.

            Then there is the other person in our story. We cannot neglect him. Lazarus. His Hebrew name means “God will help.” What a contrast. While the rich and influential man is not named by the Lord, the suffering individual is named. This is a societal role reversal at work. 

            This is also not the same ‘Lazarus’ that Jesus will raise from the dead in John 11 that I mentioned last week. 

            By granting the suffering individual a name in this parable, Jesus tells us that poor Lazarus is aware that God helps His people historically. “So why has help not been given to Lazarus” is the question that we start with? 

            We do not know for certain what afflicts Lazarus besides that he has sores covering his body and that he is poor. His humiliation is only magnified by the fact that the dogs come and lick the sores adding further degradation to his status. No one wants to be near him. He is broken away from the Body of Christ. 

            And again, this too is striking, a man whose very name means, “God will help,” struggles each day to believe that God helps His people or hears their prayers or comes to them in times of need. 

            Yet Lazarus, a Hebrew who came to the gate of the rich man’s home, as the Law of Moses tells him to do—the same law that tells the rich man to support and to care. And Lazarus is not cared for. Rather than live out the mandate of the Word to care for the sick and dying—especially the sick and dying who sit outside of his door—the rich man, in his opulence, feasts every day with friends and family. He doesn’t see the man and doesn’t see the needs.

            In this moment, and reflection, the parable comes home to us in our context and it makes us wonder. In light of your time in God’s word, and in light of your relationship with Jesus, have you seen Lazarus? 

            Because if we have a relationship with the Lord, if we have seen the resurrected Lord at work with us, then we can see Lazarus as well. 

Move 2- Blindness

            As he thinks about this text, John Donahue says, “One of the prime dangers [of the rich man] is that [his wealth and his life] causes blindness [to overwhelm him and limit his] . . . perspective. It is an age-old story.” And I bet that it is one that we have witnessed as we care for our community. 

            The rich man is blind to the needs of his community, of his brothers and sisters who share a religious tradition and history and story with him. He is blind to the on-going needs that God calls him to address in God’s Word. Even though he may have grown up in the church and with God’s word before him and his family, he is blind to the application of the Word. 

His blindness extends to the mandate given through the scriptures to him: care for the needy, discern how you can help support the ministry and work of God. In this way It is someone else’s problem. 

            By fostering and growing a relationship with the very person whose resurrection is alluded to at the end of this passage, we are called by God to continue caring for one another—in times of tragedy and in our everyday lives. 

We are called by God to NOT be blind to what God asks of us each day as we spend time with the Lord. We must discern where and when Lazarus is right outside our gate waiting, and hoping, that we will care for him/her. Repeatedly in his earthly ministry Jesus tells his followers that they are to care for one another. 

            You and I are called to discern where these needs exists because we are in are communion with God, and part of that communion is a realization that we are to be constantly discerning what God asks of us. At its core, that discernment is simply is a stewardship question. 

Move 3- 

            You see when we see Lazarus, when we notice the need that Lazarus both presents, and represents, we are called to action because we have internalized the message of the gospel that Jesus taught. We are called to be stewards who help when our discernment leads us to follow the example that we study and consider in God’s word each day. 

Or as I read this week:

            “What humanity needs is a love that sticks around, a love that stays put, a love that hangs on. A being-with love. That is what the cross represents for us. [That is what the gospel that Jesus’ taught is]. A love that hangs on [in the face of suffering and trauma]. Nothing can separate us from the love of God. God’s invitation is, a hand to hold on to that love, a hand that extends towards other,” and as you hang on to it, we practice being willing to give and support and care for the Body of Christ. 

            Our text tells us that if we wait, if we lose track of who Lazarus is in our community and church, then we lose track of the gospel’s message. 

And losing track of the gospel, as the rich man did, leads us towards a path of ultimate suffering. It leads us to the place where nothing will convert us because we are so blind to the needs that are all around us that our eye line cannot be moved to give for another person. 

            For as the man asks Father Abraham to send Lazarus back to save his brothers and his father, the reply comes: if they did not follow the lessons in God’s word, lessons that the person of Jesus exemplifies, then nothing will save them. 

            That is not a people that you and I want to be. 


Conclusion

            Sadly, the rich man and his family learned this lesson in a painful way: the way of torment. As a church this is not a story we want to duplicate as we adopt and follow the gospel of Jesus. So, have you seen Lazarus? 

I wonder what God might be asking of you as you care for him/her?

 

 

DM

A repeatable lesson

In the Matthew 7 Jesus says the following words to the people who have come to be taught, people who will become the church: 

"And why worry about a speck in your friend's eye when you have a  log in your own?" ( Matthew 7:3 NLT). 

I first heard this verse when I was in school at Ashland Christian School and Mrs. Osborne, my second grade teacher, taught it to us. Even hearing it that first time, the words of Matthew 7 stung. While the translation was a bit different that day, the truth remains the same. We look at the small sins in the lives of others and we are quick to latch onto them and judge others as worse off than ourselves. Yet by latching onto those sins there is a temptation to forget that we are guilty of the same sin--often in larger doses. But making this distinction takes spiritual discernment and spiritual maturity.   

The judgmental nature of this behavior only grows year over year until the church stops attempting to help their neighbors to leave sin behind and move towards repentance and reconciliation with God. 

Perhaps this is a practice we can repeat will help us stop looking harshly at our community and dwell with them as Jesus would calls us to?

Or perhaps you might prefer a different perspective on this age-old problem of judgment and sin. The poet Rumi offers this advice to his reader: 

"When you notice a fault in your neighbor,

search for the same in yourself."

While likely mirroring the words of Jesus from the Sermon on the Mount, Rumi's words make us wonder, and they ask us to notice, how those around us are struggling. His words invite us to examine ourselves as we see the faults in others. Perhaps as we dwell with others, we can put the judgment away. This will not always be an easy practice--but it can be something we repeat with God's help. 

With what remains of this week, and as you prepare to encounter Jesus in worship, would you be willing to search yourself in the very moment when you see faults in others? Would you be willing to judge yourself of the sins that the other person is committing? 

Perhaps this can be a means to solidarity with the Lord and with the community? 

No Joy-- Jeremiah 8:18-9:1. Sermon Preached on September 21, 2025

            One of the first things that we do following any tragedy, regardless of how you or I define ‘tragedy,’ or its severity, is we try to make sense of why it happened. 

            First, we ask the general questions like: what was the cause? 

For if we can label a cause, then perhaps we can root out that cause from happening again. It’s like pulling weeds up from a garden. Identify the root. Then remove the root of the weeds and they won’t come back. Remove the cause of the suffering, and we hope, we won’t suffer anymore. But that only works for a little while—and in truth, it is not effective in the church. 

            So, since that does not work in the long term, we try something else. 

Before long we start looking deeper at where the pain comes from. Then at some point, we start getting serious and we wonder, where is God? While this question should have been where we started, it wasn’t. 

Now it is often where we land. So, we get to the theological root of our lives, and we finally begin to ask the important questions about God’s location. And we might even wonder, as the song says, Was God in the room when it happened? 

Of course, we know that God is here in this room, or in any room or space, as we suffer. But asking the question helps us attempt to make sense of what is happening. Yet this is an important question to wonder about, I think. In the moment of pain, can you feel God? 

            When writer Anne Lamott made her confession of faith, she said “I became aware of someone with me, hunkered down in the corner. . . whose presence I had felt over the years when I was frightened and alone. The feeling was so strong that I actually turned on the light for a moment to make sure no one was there—of course, there wasn’t. But after a while, in the dark again, I knew beyond any doubt that it was Jesus.”[1]

            God just being there. For God is always there. Yet that affirmation, as obvious as it is, as truthful as it is, still brings us to Jeremiah 8 today. For it appears that God, and the prophet, and even the remnant of Isarel are attempting to make sense of the pain that they are all dealing with together. 

            This pain limits the joy the people feel. It stifles much of who we are called to be. Yet we must remember, God is in the room where it happened.

Move 1- no easy answers

            As special as Jeremiah’s call was, he was a prophet that few, if anyone, wanted to listen to. And if they do not want to listen to him, then people certainly did not want to heed his message. His message was hard, and it was filled with passages such as the one that we are thinking about today. And a first conclusion that we draw from his words is that Jeremiah 8 does not have an easy answer in it—as much of Jeremiah takes time to consider. 

            For instance, verse 19: “Is the Lord not in Zion?”

            And as we read the verse, we instinctively pause and says, “Of course, God is with His people.” And we shout, “Why wouldn’t God be with us! Jesus dies for us!” 

The covenant that God made with Abraham states this clearly. You and I can confess, and we have often confessed it together in one voice. We know that God is with us. For we have prayed with each other. Held each other’s hands and whispered the affirmation that God is Emmanuel. And yet, is God there when you suffer? Have you seen God? Have you felt God in the moment… the actual moment? 

            Now you know that God is everywhere but stop and truly think about it. In the very moment of suffering. When the pain came, when it flooded down upon you and your loved one, and it was harsh, and unrelenting. When the tears poured, this text comes ringing in our ears: 

            “The harvest is past, and we are not saved.” “Is the Lord in Zion?” Lord, we put our faith in you, and the something tragic happened. Or maybe you prefer the words of the gospel to state how you felt in that moment. 

            “If you had been here Lord, our brother would not have died”—John 11:21. 

            A text like this reminds that there are not always easy answers out there. Certainly, I am not saying that God is not present with us in these moments of pain—no matter how we define or experience the pain. Please do not mistake what I am saying. Rather I think we can all agree that there are times when it feels like God has moved off from us. 

            And if it feels like God has moved off from us, if there are no easy answers to the suffering of each day, then the words of Jeremiah 8 are the exact words that we need to hear from God. 

Move 2- honesty

            One of the unique parts of this text is whose voice is speaking. I mentioned this earlier. Is it God’s voice in this passage? Is it the prophet? Is it the people? Who is speaking here? 

The truth is that all three voices speak in this passage. And them seem to speak at once. Overlapping. Almost interrupting. 

            In our text all three voices join together in stating the same thing—and that is what makes this passage so profoundly helpful for us. 

It is not just my joy that has ended. It is not just my hearts that is broken. It is the prophet’s heart and the prophet’s joy. As it is also God’s heart and God’s joy. All three of us come together and as chapter 9 begins all three of us seem to HONESTLY weep alongside of each other for what we are seeing. We wonder if God is here both personally and corporately. And our eyes, God’s eyes, and the people’s eyes pour tears from them. There is great honesty in this moment. 

This is the second lesson from the text that we can take with us. For first there are no easy answer to the suffering of our day, and second, honesty as a people, before God, with God, is the authentic place to dwell. 

            For there are times that it appears that no balm can be found in Gilead—and as you might know Gilead was the place where the healing balm was made in Israel. It was the place where the healing was felt and experienced the deepest. If healing cannot come from there, where can it come from?  

            The answer that Jeremiah presents in his book is one of honesty. For God is there in a place, honestly in any place, where we struggle to understand what is happening. God is there in any place, every place when we wonder why it is happening to us and to those who we love and support. 

Move 3- solidarity

            You see as we are honest in this place of pain, and as we realize that there are few easy answers to find, we realize that God has chosen to stay when we are confused and feel lost. 

            While yes, the prophet, the people, and God’s voice all seem to be combining into a cacophony that can be hard to work through, to understand, and makes sense of, we need to remember that in midst of the mess, God is there still. 

            As Anne Lamott says, God is still hunkered down with us—his church. 

Anne’s conversion story continues with Jesus staying in that corner for days waiting for her to respond—always hoping that she would respond. Until one night she rolls over and says, ‘alright, fine, you can stay.’ 

And as you know, when tell Jesus in the midst of all your pain, all of your struggles, all of you unmet expectations that He can stay and that you want and need him to stay, Christ the Lord makes a home with you. This home cuts through the malaise and the trauma and Jesus heals you and those you love—not by wipping everything away. But Jesus heals you by staying there. 

            He remains in solidarity with his people, even if those people are weeping and broken deeply. Even if they cannot find the healing from Gilead, God remains close by. Even as the joy of every service in Jesus’ name does not hold the meaning and purpose as it normally did, God stays close by. 

            Even when we cannot fully locate the passion and joy of our faith, God remains close by. And that, finally, is the good news for us today.

Conclusion 

            Whenever I read Jeremiah, I wish there were easy answers as I suspect Jeremiah himself wished for easy answers to his struggles. We all want passages this book to flow with simple lessons that we can take with us and share. But there are also times, and maybe in your day today this is one of those times, when sitting with a hard passage is helpful. 

Because although we have been able to engage passionately in the ministry of the Lord this week, there are also times when we need to sit with the hard words of God and remember that God sits with us in these places also. 

Take time today to honestly approach the Lord with any suffering that you have, and as you do, remember the solidarity that God brings into that encounter. 

 

DM

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[1] Anne Lamott, Travelling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith, (Anchor Books: New York, 1999), 49.

 

A lesson from my speech professor.

The role of story telling and story sharing is very important to me. I believe that this practice holds the key to uniting the community and the church as we seek to find God and live faithfully in this world. For in this practice we find space for testimony--for the honest and open sharing of how God is at work with us. 

Since I first opened Samuel Wells' A Nazareth Manifesto, I have felt God speak to my heart about the importance that the stories we share with one another are. As I have listened to the church talk about how God is at work in their lives both personally and corporately, I have felt blessed by the stories that I hear.  

But over the last couple of weeks I have wondered, how do we select the story that we share? And why aren't we sharing more stories of how God is at work? This is vital work and it seems to be falling by the wayside.  

When I was in college my speech professor told us that when he asked a question we were to follow a simple formula. It went something like this. (And yes, he made us practice in our first class). Josh, the professor, would ask a question. Then we were all to raise our hands. Next, he would call on one of us. Then we were told that after he said our name, we were to put our hands down, open our mouth, and start talking--to let whatever came out. . . well come out. 

Frankly re-writing Josh's instructions feels silly. But for 15 weeks of Speech 101 that is exactly what we did. Josh asked questions. We all raised our hands. He called on someone. They opened their mouth and said something. At times it worked and at other times, it did not work smoothly. But the practice got us all talking. Extroverts and introverts alike. Ultimately, I think that is what he was working towards. He was building a conversation with total strangers.  

I wonder, if something similar is possible as we try and find a way to share our stories in the church. Ordinarily, we try and collate the best stories--ones to impress everyone and show how deep and wide our faith is. But perhaps the most authentic story is the one where we just honestly start talking with one another and share our hearts and our Lord. We do not bemoan anyone or belittle anything. We just share things like 'where have you seen God at work?' while allowing the Holy Spirit room to move in us--and in them.  

The stories will come and they will feel out of place for there is so much negativity out there that it is chocking the life out of the church. But perhaps sharing where, and how God is at work, will help us find our footing in a world and culture that does not want to listen any more?  

What do you think? I invite you to share your thoughts below. 

Lost and Found--Luke 15:1-10. Sermon for September 14, 2025

            The boys of Boy Scout troop 22, Den Ravens B, were given 1 piece of paper. It was handed to them in a plain manilla envelope as the rest of the dens in the troop received theirs. At the appointed time they were told to open it and to begin their task.

            As they confidently gazed at the paper, they saw a list of numbers written in two distinct columns. The first column contained what they figured out quickly were paces. The second column were bearings on their compasses. The page was filled with these two columns. Someone sighed… Another’s boys courage began to sink a little. 

When combined, the bearings and the paces, would take the boys to their campsite… and to their food for the evening.

            But that was hours ago.

Now it was dark; they were hungry. The light from others dens of scouts searching for their campsites still twinkled in the distance, but those lights were further off now, and these eight boys were wading through bogs and grasses that were nearly as tall as they were. Their packs were getting heavier, and their courage and confidence, that was strong at first, was waning. Honestly it was gone.

            Then that fateful thought came. . . no one wanted to say it, but when it starts in the back of one person’s mind it becomes like a virus, quickly infecting others. It eats away at the group’s confidence until there is nothing left. Before long everyone was thinking it even if they did not say it. . . You know what it is: “We are lost.” 

And when you feel lost in the dark a second thought creeps in. The thought takes any remanence of faith away. This second thought is far scarier than just being lost. The second thought is, ‘we are forgotten.’

            No one wants to feel lost, and no one wants to feel forgotten. 

Whether it is a sheep who has wandered away from the flock, or a coin that fell between the floorboards of a house, or a group of 8 boys in the woods. . . or . . . even you and I when the violence and the suffering of the day becomes so normal that we shrug and say things like ‘well, what do you expect.’ 

God has placed us here, in this moment, and we feel the tide of discouragement pushing against us, and the temptation growing to worry that we are lost and that we are forgotten—and no one wants either.

            But it can happen, and it does happen. 

            Today we are going to look at these two parables and notice what Jesus has to offer us as we think about the idea of being Lost and Found. 

Move 1- that which is lost.

            From my perspective, the subject of these two parables is not the shepherd who seeks the lost sheep, or the women who sweeps her house diligently looking for the coin. The subject of these two parables is what has been lost. 

            And let us also not simply assume that because both are smaller in size, they are therefore smaller in value—a single sheep when compared to the overall flock or a small coin when examined against the overall value of someone’s full bank account or retirement. 

            Let’s also notice the sense of ‘lostness’ that takes place in the text—how ‘lostness’ is felt or is experienced. Because this takes a simple story that was written by Luke, and it molds these images in a way that makes them personal. They become our story as well. “Lostness” is a powerful emotional state to be in—a state which Jesus knows that everyone who hears his words: tax collectors and sinners, Pharisees and scribes, even his own followers all know something about. 

And today, in this culture, with the stories we share, the ones that we willingly we share and the ones that we must share because they shake us so deeply, we can speak to a greater sense of these days: “Lostness.” 

For we know what being lost feels like. When I hear about the trouble in our schools, and I do not have the time to process one shooting or another act of violence before another is presented—I feel lost and wonder about the path of hope. 

Or when disagreements which previously ended with people saying, ‘well I do not agree,’ and the two people walked away. Now the end of that encounter is met with violence and hatred and death. I feel lost and I wonder about what happened to free exchange of ideas. 

When families are broken apart through death and the results are not mourned on social media or the news, there is greater sense of lostness that is taking hold us of. The list goes on and on.  

To help give this feeling some personal application, we are invited to put ourselves in the place of that one sheep who ventured away from the flock, or the single coin that fell away from the others. For while both items carry in themselves some sense of value, alone they are vulnerable. Both items are not whole because they are not in community and not with the Lord. 

Alone they can lose some of their identity. Alone, and forgotten, which is how we feel when violence is reported on the news, or testified to in stories at school, makes us think we are lost. . . we are forgotten. . . and I know that this feeling once again has come up. 

             The feeling that we have wandered away—by choice or by accident—and no one is coming to look for us anymore. 

            Yet we are here in worship today. We are here to hear from the Lord. Here to encounter the gospel. So if they have been lost, if we have felt lost (which I know you that you have), if we have experienced being forgotten, if we believe that no one is listening, then the gospel’s message is about being found.

Move 2- being found.

            What does it feel like to be found? 

            Going back to my first story, when the boys who were lost in the woods, after dark, with only paces and compass bearings to help them find their way, heard sounds in the woods… sounds that eventually were their leaders coming to find them, what do you think it felt like to be found? I am sure there were sighs of relief and smiles, but later, when they sat together and thought about how badly it felt to be lost, and how their minds took them to the worst possible outcomes for their predicament, I imagine they could speak about being found—maybe not theologically, but they had the words. 

            In our parables, someone in authority, whether it was the great shepherd who found the sheep, or the women who continued sweeping and looking for the coin, continued their searching and, I assume, continued their calling, until the moment when that which was lost was found. 

It might not have been instantaneous, but the call, the searching keeps happening. Relief, when we suffer, and when we cry out to God in our own lost state, is not always immediate, and it does not mean everything is going to be okay in the next breath. 

While we would like to think that it is, and while we have come to hope and trust that God is always on the move quickly towards us, that is always what we experience. 

For it took the sheep a little while to get separated from the remainder of the flock, and the coin did not just fall to a place where the homeowner could not see it. Falling away, travelling away from God, takes time. 

But the gospel message is that both items were ultimately found. When all we heard about was suffering and separation, we can be found by the one who seeks us. They were found not because of the work they did. They were not found because they made the correct affirmation of faith. They were found because of the symbol in the parable of the Lord continued searching for them until they were found. 

            Can you feel what it felt like in the moment before they were found? The moment before ‘salvation’ came? 

            They were lost and are not found. The ‘finding’ which takes place is the result of Somone else’s initiative in their life. In this case it is the divine initiative. Whether it was the woman diligently working around her home, or the shepherd looking for the sheep, the work of ‘finding’ lay with the character who represents God. 

            In this story, we do not find God. The Lord finds us when we need God the most. When we feel totally lost because of all the suffering of this past week, it is the Lord who comes to find us.  

            And this finding is also decisive. It is not accidental or inadvertent. It the very moment of lostness and place where feel forgotten in a violent, painful world, a world that does all that it can to stop the church from spreading God’s message. God does not stumble upon the lost sheep as The Lord is out running other errands. 

No, God seeks what was lost and does not stop until God finds us. 

The woman does not open a drawer at home and say, ‘well look here, I found the extra coin I was looking for.’ Rather, she has been at work the entire time and does not rest until she has that coin back in her possession. 

Divine initiative. Divine persistence. In the face of feeling lost and forgotten that is the best news that Jesus can offer to the church. 

Again, imagine how that feels. 

Conclusion

            Because that feeling is what you and I are called to share moving forward. We are called to look into the places and moments where we feel and confess that all can be lost and say: NO, all is not lost. The shepherd is looking for you. He will find you. And when he finds you, he will bring you home. 

DM

 

The Cost of Discipleship--Luke 14:25-33. Sermon preached on September 7, 2025

            Normally we expect Jesus to look upon the crowds and have compassion upon them because that is His normal response when they gather around him. But today, as Jesus feels them drawing in close, he immediately begins to teach them. And while we hoped that this would be an easy message to bear, sadly as Jesus draws the people in, the message is harder.

            It is filled with images that require reflection and consideration. Family. Friends. Losing your life and the cost of following Jesus. Bearing the cross. He offers it all in this passage. 

            Everything circles around a primary question: What does it take to be a disciple of Jesus?

Other questions will come up. . . Questions like, what is the cost of following the Lord? Or what is the cost of discipleship that God asks each member of the Body of Christ to pay as they ‘take up their cross and follow me?’ 

            But the first question, ‘what does it take to be a disciple of Jesus’ this question lives at the center of Luke 14. 

            So, today let’s walk through this text and see if we can find a way to work with hard passage and determine what answer Jesus offers the crowd that presses upon him.

Move 1--hating others?

            As Jesus looks out at the crowd who gathered around him, he says a strange thing. . . or maybe a thing that seems out of character for Jesus. We can imagine his followers, his friends, and those familiar with his teaching, raising their eyebrows at what he says. . . “If you do not hate your father and mother, and indeed the remainder of your family and friends, then you cannot be my disciple.”

            That does not sound very much like Jesus or the gospel that he has taught them. He has always been straightforward, but. . . this straightforward? This divisive?!?

            These words seem out of character for Jesus. While we know that he will turn over the tables of the money changers (in Matthew 21 and Mark 11) and be outraged by their actions, Jesus does not often appear angry at anyone. Yet in one sentence, Jesus seems to upset the entire balance of the family and of our expectations of him. So, I want to address the first question that comes to everyone’s mind as we read this famous section. 

            Does Jesus truly want us to hate our family? 

            And the clearest answer that I can give is--NO. 

            So, what does Jesus mean by saying this??? 

            While the word that we read in our Bible is hate, and that is an accurate translation of the Greek text, perhaps to fully understand what Jesus is calling the crowds to become, we need to consider a more nuanced definition of the word that he chose to use because the word is richer than we realize. 

            You see, as we think about what Jesus asks each of his followers (potential and actual), the Messiah asks us to make the moral choice to aligns with God’s word. As we listen and discern God’s message, we must make a choice at every turn. This is a choice that happens in every encounter and with every person. It happens at every instance of our day, and it cannot be avoided. 

Two chapters from now, Luke will record Jesus saying that we cannot serve both God and money. Once again, Jesus presents us with have a choice; a choice that we must make. A choice that we will make. A choice that we do make. 

Again, this is both a theological choice and a moral one. And by not choosing, or by deferring the choice saying that we choose, but not actually declaring our position, we are actual choosing.

            Then there is the Old Testament occurrence of this word (for hate) which takes the moral understanding of the word and adds another layer to it—an example of this is found in Malachi 1. 

In that passage God is speaking and the prophet says, “I have loved Jacob, but I have hated Esau.”[1]Again, hate… but going into the New Living Translation listen to the difference that we can discover. And notice the choice. “I loved your ancestor Jacob, but I rejected his brother, Esau.”[2]

            Now we hear a difference; we feel a difference. 

Does God truly want us to hate anyone? To drive anyone away? Or does God want us to love him supremely and have the proper priorities when it comes to friends, families? That one sounds more of a moral choice. Should our loyalties align in a similar manner as they did with God? Perhaps Jesus is saying something like: 

Love your mother and love your father. Love your family. Love your life for it is a gift from God that is to be used for the glory of the Lord first and foremost. But love me more than these things and by doing that you become my disciple for you place me above all other things in your life—things that can distract you and things that you elevate above me. The things which do not save your soul.  

            For we know that God loves us all. And it seems out of character for God to love only one of the children of Isaac and hate the other—even if the other child sold his birthright for soup. 

Move 2- saying good-bye

            For being a disciple of the Lord does not mean that we leave behind all the people that God placed in our lives as if they are no longe of any importance because we come to worship and confess our faith. For it was God who put these people in our lives in the first place. 

It was God who called us to care for our community as it was God who put the seed and fire in our hearts to evangelize and spread the message of hope. Rather, once again, to be a disciple of the Lord is to align ourselves with God and with His mission first. 

            Instead, we say good-bye, if you will, to things that distract us from the overall mission and message of the Lord. And there are many things in this world, in our everyday life that distract us. They drive us away from God—some obvious and some more discrete. They call us to click on them. Linger over them. Whisper about them when the other person is not in the room. But they are there… always there. . . inviting us away from God.

            Say good-bye to them.  

            Luke 14 tells us that we must be aware of the appeal of them and we must be mindful of them—just as a builder would be mindful of the needs of his or her overall building project or as a king is mindful of the cost of going to war. 

We must be mindful of where or energies and resources are placed because they are not always placed properly with the Lord and with the gospel that he preached and taught to us. For if we are not careful, we place our allegiance and our loyalties in places that take us further and further away from God—sometimes without us even knowing that it is happening. 

But again, Christ call us to a different path. 

Christ calls us to follow where the mission and message lead us while saying good-bye to the things that could distract us from the work of the cross. And that message and its mission will lead us away from some people, but it will not tell us to hate our family, but rather by placing God at the center of our lives, everything else falls into perfect place. 

For there are indeed a great many things which can, and which do, distract us from God’s message. Things which we are to say good-bye to… things which we are to reject because each of them takes us away from God and they rob us from being the people that God calls us to become. 

Move 3- the cost

            One of the details that gets left behind in this story is that the cost of following Jesus will be different for each person. 

Jesus tells the crowds, and the established disciples who hear these words, that they must all decide how much they are willing to say good-bye to, willing to reject, in order to serve the Lord. Individually.

            And Jesus also never says, ‘it will be this much.’ Rather he invites us all now into that place where we stop and think about what it means and what it looks like as a church, and as people, to take up our cross and follow the Lord in this moment and in context that God sends us into after our worship time is complete. 

For one final point that is true beyond a doubt: if we are unwilling to count this cost, if we are unwilling to do this work, then we will not be disciples of Jesus. 
Conclusion

            We all seek to be disciples of Jesus. For we all have been called by the Lord in some fashion or another as we know that God has given each of us gifts according to His will. 

            I wonder what it looks like, and what the places in your day are, where God asks you reject one self-elevated priority in favor of him? Can you say good-bye to that thing, even if everyone else is embracing it and championing it as popular today?

            For if you do, I believe you are on your way to becoming a disciple of the Lord. 

DM

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[1] Malachi 1:2,3 NRSV.

 

[2] Malachi 1:2,3 NLT