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

---

[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

Ordinary Exchanges.

Recently I was in the grocery store picking up a few things when I engaged in a practice that is becoming more and more normal for me. I talked with the cashier. This as not the normal small talk of 'hey how you are you?' or 'its awfully hot today, isn't it?' Rather, I pressed in, and as I have become more accustomed to doing, I said, 'I hope your day is going well."

Then I waited for an honest reply. It took a moment, and it did surprise the person ringing out my purchases, but the reply came.  

When reply came (and it was glorious), I leaned in and smiled and tried as hard as I could with my eyes to listen. To linger and offer not the response that was expected but something far more personal. I didn't offer to fix anything or respond with any expected small talk but I tried to truly be present. The more intentional I am about speaking with strangers in the grocery store or out in the community the more comfortable I am becoming. 

Each time I can see a little more of the light in the conversation. 

Today I was reading an essay that Padraig O'Tauma wrote and it summed up why I feel so strongly about getting past 'small talk' and wishing to converse with people deeply--should they be willing to do so with me. I won't force them to talk. Now please stay with me as I explain how I got there. 

Padraig was commenting on the words of Rita Dove who, while caring for her mother who suffers from dementia, had recently talked with her mom on the phone. It was a hard conversation. A conversation that was filled with prompts and guided by Rita's brother who helped Rita's mother to say all the right things during the 5-minute conversation. After the phone call Rita says, 'I put myself back into a trance.' And I can hear the pain that she was dealing with as her mother struggled for the necessary language for even a phone call to her daughter. 

Returning to Padraig's commentary he writes these words that touched me: 

'To be in a trance is to have your eyes fixed on something there, but not quite there. Ordinary exchanges-- 'weather, gossip, news'--become a small relief, an automatic reflex, a way to fill the void with language that's easy, unmemorable, a simple carrier of connection, affection, and care.'

I do not fault Rita for her need of ordinary language because at times that is all that we have in moments of pain. Lord knows that I have needed those moments and I too have not had the words. I have felt myself slip into one of those 'trances' at times and felt the embrace hit me as well. But how often do we live every single moment--moments without trauma or stress-- in a place where the ordinary conversations are all that we have? 

How often do we stop and look deeply into the places and people that we are with and see the pain they are in a try, in some small way, to be present? 

By lingering with one person we might not change the world, but I know from firsthand experience that listening, dwelling, and taking the time to be with someone, it helps. Sure we can just talk about the weather and any gossip that floats past us. We can stay superficial about social media posts that are trending. . . Or, I wonder if today, God will show you someone who might benefit from pressing in? 

Trading gods. Jeremiah 2:4-13. Sermon preached on August 31, 2025

          While we confess that God is always enough for us here in our worship time, and as we come together as the church in general, there are times when this affirmation can seem to slip away from us; slip away from our hearts and our lives both practically and confessionally.

            It is just as easy as the lie from last week, that you are not enough. This sneaks into our lives and it begins to help us create a distance between us and everyone that we have come to trust and rely upon—God included.

            At times this is a deliberate choice; we don’t want to be faithful. We don’t want to grow as Christians. And we call those times moments of sin and backsliding in our faith. We just don’t want to build our relationship with God and deepen what God began in us. . . for perhaps God is not enough for us right now. As odd as that might sound. But is it that odd? 

            Yet in the oddness of this confession or statement, we find the people of Jeremiah 2 hearing a message that would affirm our feelings. That while God is wonderful; and God’s presence is healing and in God we find wholeness. There are times when we confess, in one form or another that God is not enough for us. And so, we make a choice to remedy that conclusion—just as the people who heard Jeremiah’s letter in chapter 2, made a choice. 

            Today I want to consider this concept of exchanging God’s glory for something that does not profit and instead harms us. Jeremiah will tell us this is an appalling sin. The prophet will state that this is like putting water in cracked, broken, cisterns, or as Jesus would say, it is like putting new wine into old wineskins. It does not work. Yet if this was not something that the people in Jeremiah’s day, and in our day, are guilty of doing, then it would not have been included in God’s word for us to consider. 

So, let’s try and understand it so that we can choose to avoid it.
Move 1- exchanging Gods

            Our text comes to a head in verse 11 with God speaking. The Lord has gathered the people together. Multiple generations are present to hear what is about to be said. We can imagine that no one knows the gravity of what is about to shared, and then it happens. God wonders if a nation has ever changed its gods?

And while the question seems rhetorically curious, and unnecessary. Who would do such a thing? What people would act like this? By God asking it, the question lands in the lap of anyone who hears these words. Now there will be deniers and doubters. The people will look around and with their eyes, they will say, ‘he’s not talking to me.’

But there can be little mistake here. God is talking to all those people who have gathered. . . the generations who stand before the Lord. Us included. Have they, have we, exchanged the glory of God for something that does not profit. 

            For God’s own people. God’s covenanted people. The people that God called, the ones that God protected and set apart, they are guilty of this behavior. 

            The exchange that is happening here occurs 27 times in the Old Testament. And all 27 times that it takes place between God and humanity it is always negative. This is the substitution of something holy, something wonderful, something given by God to us, for something that we elevate as better. And like I said, it is always a less-than exchange. It is as if we know better and when the scale is balanced, it is not balanced at all. 

            Are we guilty of looking at the greatness of God, the wonder of God, and then deciding that we will work, and live, and act on our own? Do we pretend that the nature of who God is, and what God calls us to be and become, does not apply? 

            That is what it means to attempt the exchange of God.

            It’s not truly a choice, but it is one that God sees His own people, like us, make time and again.

Move 2- Looks like? 

            In just a few short verses I imagine the stuffing, the air, has been taken out of the people who stood before Jeremiah’s message hoping to hear God offer them a word of hope. 

But for how long? How long will any of us have to wait to hear some good news from God? 

That is truly the challenge that we face when we read Jeremiah, or any of the other prophets, and we are confronted with their strong message—a message that in its passion should draw us into introspection and consideration. We feel the gut-punch of exchanging the truth of God for something that is of lesser value, but then we leave worship, or we put down our Bible, or we say Amen to the prayer, and we hope to go back to our lives, and we hope that the conviction can end.

But this text tells me, that it should not be this way.  

            Jeremiah 2 will continue after verse 13. The tempo will pick rise, and it will slow. God will speak over and over again to the people, the church, in verses 19, 22, and 29. . . and God will keep on speaking to them asking them to make a change in their lives and return to a life of faithfulness. God will ask them, and us, to recall what the Lord has done to save us and what God has taught us. 

            But will any of us continue to listen? 

            Will they, will we, take the message with its passion and will we listen? And more than listen will we heed and make the necessary changes? 

            Outside of today’s pericope, God will repeatedly say that we have brought this upon ourselves (verse 17), and as we hear this, we will point at others and say, ‘ah it’s those people. It’s that behavior right there that is causing all of this. They are the ones who are not enough. . . oh wait did I just say that.’ 

But that thought process, and choice, does not get to the root of the problem. We like to push away the conviction that we repeatedly exchange the glory, the goodness, the presence of God for something that does not profit rather than wonder about where the places in your daily life are where you exchange the goodness of God for goodness of a god that you create and elevate. 

            And so, when we wonder, ‘well, what does it look like? Or what were the people in Jeremiah’s day doing?’ I can say, they were living like we live right now. 

Move 3- worthless

            And as we live as the people who heard Jermiah 2 firsthand lived, we turn back in our text to the beginning to see the fruit of this choice. . . And we notice that exchanging the glory of God harms our identity and our value. It makes us: worthless.

            The verb that Jeremiah employs it exposes the human pursuit that lack of substance. Becoming idolatrous. A sense of misplaced trust. In scripture, every time this verb is used it is placed in stark contrast to the steadfast character, and word of the Lord, which underscores the futility of turning from God to anything else. Why turn away from God when God is so perfect and so good for us? This choice, this turning, the exchange of our text, it defines us worthless when compared to goodness and perfection of God. 

            For idolatry is self-destruction. Deceptive speech always hurts us, and it hurts our relationship with God and each other. We are not secure here on earth when compared to the wonder of our heavenly inheritance that God offers to us as we are faithful.

            According to Jeremiah, we become worthless as we exchange the goodness of God for the goodness of a god that we create and elevate into the place in our lives and heart that only God should hold onto. 

Conclusion

            So, as we leave behind the power of Jeremiah’s call in chapter 1, and the trading of God’s in chapter 2, we are left to wonder about the places and moments in our day where we live in this way. What does it look like in your life and how might God be asking you to root that out so that you can continue to grow your faith and share in the work of discipleship in this community? 

 

DM