Pregnant with Anticipation

Fourth Sunday of Advent

Blessed are you among women - Luke 1:42

A unique scene unfolds before us in our gospel. Two women, both pregnant through the most unusual of conditions, exchange greetings filled with joy, wonder, and amazement at their shared circumstance, each describing for the other (and for us!) what God has done.

We have become familiar with their children, the sons born to Elizabeth and Mary a few months after this monumental conversation. Elizabeth will give birth to John, the one we call "the Baptist," the one who prophesies, proclaims, and prepares the community for Christ's ministry. Mary will give birth to Jesus, the Messiah, Emmanuel - God with us.

Blessed are you among women - Luke 1:42

It is through this prism of hindsight that we can appreciate the words spoken by these women - women in vastly different life circumstances, whose maternal joy we know will eventually lead to sorrow as their sons' ministries and lives follow God's call even to death.

Elizabeth is an old woman who has remained childless. Her miraculous pregnancy was foretold by the angel Gabriel, who appeared to her husband, Zechariah. Meanwhile, Mary is a young woman, engaged to be married, when the same angel appears to her with the impossible news of God's Son. Both women have had much to process and ponder, it is no wonder that their hearts burst into proclamation and song.

"Blessed are you," Elizabeth cries, the first witness to the miracle in Mary, "the mother of my Lord." Somehow Elizabeth and the child within her own womb both intuitively know who Mary is and whom she carries within her. Mary responds with her own vision, her song of praise, her Magnificent. "My soul magnifies the Lord," she proclaims, proceeding to paint a glorious and grand vision of God's great mystery unfolding within her.

These two pregnant women with trust, courage, and eloquence have shown us a glimpse of God.

Pregnant with Anticipation

Fourth Sunday of Advent

Blessed are you among women - Luke 1:42

A unique scene unfolds before us in our gospel. Two women, both pregnant through the most unusual of conditions, exchange greetings filled with joy, wonder, and amazement at their shared circumstance, each describing for the other (and for us!) what God has done.

We have become familiar with their children, the sons born to Elizabeth and Mary a few months after this monumental conversation. Elizabeth will give birth to John, the one we call "the Baptist," the one who prophesies, proclaims, and prepares the community for Christ's ministry. Mary will give birth to Jesus, the Messiah, Emmanuel - God with us.

Blessed are you among women - Luke 1:42

It is through this prism of hindsight that we can appreciate the words spoken by these women - women in vastly different life circumstances, whose maternal joy we know will eventually lead to sorrow as their sons' ministries and lives follow God's call even to death.

Elizabeth is an old woman who has remained childless. Her miraculous pregnancy was foretold by the angel Gabriel, who appeared to her husband, Zechariah. Meanwhile, Mary is a young woman, engaged to be married, when the same angel appears to her with the impossible news of God's Son. Both women have had much to process and ponder, it is no wonder that their hearts burst into proclamation and song.

"Blessed are you," Elizabeth cries, the first witness to the miracle in Mary, "the mother of my Lord." Somehow Elizabeth and the child within her own womb both intuitively know who Mary is and whom she carries within her. Mary responds with her own vision, her song of praise, her Magnificent. "My soul magnifies the Lord," she proclaims, proceeding to paint a glorious and grand vision of God's great mystery unfolding within her.

These two pregnant women with trust, courage, and eloquence have shown us a glimpse of God.

Pregnant with Anticipation

Fourth Sunday of Advent

Blessed are you among women - Luke 1:42

A unique scene unfolds before us in our gospel. Two women, both pregnant through the most unusual of conditions, exchange greetings filled with joy, wonder, and amazement at their shared circumstance, each describing for the other (and for us!) what God has done.

We have become familiar with their children, the sons born to Elizabeth and Mary a few months after this monumental conversation. Elizabeth will give birth to John, the one we call "the Baptist," the one who prophesies, proclaims, and prepares the community for Christ's ministry. Mary will give birth to Jesus, the Messiah, Emmanuel - God with us.

Blessed are you among women - Luke 1:42

It is through this prism of hindsight that we can appreciate the words spoken by these women - women in vastly different life circumstances, whose maternal joy we know will eventually lead to sorrow as their sons' ministries and lives follow God's call even to death.

Elizabeth is an old woman who has remained childless. Her miraculous pregnancy was foretold by the angel Gabriel, who appeared to her husband, Zechariah. Meanwhile, Mary is a young woman, engaged to be married, when the same angel appears to her with the impossible news of God's Son. Both women have had much to process and ponder, it is no wonder that their hearts burst into proclamation and song.

"Blessed are you," Elizabeth cries, the first witness to the miracle in Mary, "the mother of my Lord." Somehow Elizabeth and the child within her own womb both intuitively know who Mary is and whom she carries within her. Mary responds with her own vision, her song of praise, her Magnificent. "My soul magnifies the Lord," she proclaims, proceeding to paint a glorious and grand vision of God's great mystery unfolding within her.

These two pregnant women with trust, courage, and eloquence have shown us a glimpse of God.

Any Good in This News?

Third Sunday of Advent

He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire - Luke 3:16

Winnowing, burning, fleeing, and name-calling: where is the good news? This passage from Luke ends a bit abruptly: "So, with many other exhortations, he proclaimed the good news to the people." Where is the good news in today's gospel message from John the Baptist?

The word "gospel" literally means "good news" and is used to describe the books of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John - those books that describe the life and ministry of Christ. "Gospel" is also used to describe the reading each week that comes from one of these fours books, and today's excerpt from Luke is our good news for this day. So where is the good in this news?

John the Baptist has earned his reputation for fiery and provocative preaching partly because of his startling address to those who came to be baptized: " You brood of vipers!" Comparing one's own congregation - those who came to hear him preach and be baptized! - to a hissing and writhing mess to poisonous snakes probably doesn't earn too many fans.

John continues to antagonize by even dismissing the entitlement claims of those who have been born into a faith community. And so we ask with the crowds that day, "What then should we do?"

Here is the good news, here is the gospel: we are all snakes, we are all children of Abraham, our lives both wheat and chaff. John's words strip away all pride and self-righteousness while simultaneously promising inclusion and salvation beyond anything this world can offer.

While we self-defensively curl up and hide among the shadows, fleeing in terror at any tremor or perceived earthly danger, the promise of the gospel redirects us: "Be fruits worthy of repentance." John has caught our attention, not to insult but to inspire our Advent preparations. For the Messiah draws near, baptizing with the Holy Spirit and fire. This is truly good news.

Any Good in This News?

Third Sunday of Advent

He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire - Luke 3:16

Winnowing, burning, fleeing, and name-calling: where is the good news? This passage from Luke ends a bit abruptly: "So, with many other exhortations, he proclaimed the good news to the people." Where is the good news in today's gospel message from John the Baptist?

The word "gospel" literally means "good news" and is used to describe the books of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John - those books that describe the life and ministry of Christ. "Gospel" is also used to describe the reading each week that comes from one of these fours books, and today's excerpt from Luke is our good news for this day. So where is the good in this news?

John the Baptist has earned his reputation for fiery and provocative preaching partly because of his startling address to those who came to be baptized: " You brood of vipers!" Comparing one's own congregation - those who came to hear him preach and be baptized! - to a hissing and writhing mess to poisonous snakes probably doesn't earn too many fans.

John continues to antagonize by even dismissing the entitlement claims of those who have been born into a faith community. And so we ask with the crowds that day, "What then should we do?"

Here is the good news, here is the gospel: we are all snakes, we are all children of Abraham, our lives both wheat and chaff. John's words strip away all pride and self-righteousness while simultaneously promising inclusion and salvation beyond anything this world can offer.

While we self-defensively curl up and hide among the shadows, fleeing in terror at any tremor or perceived earthly danger, the promise of the gospel redirects us: "Be fruits worthy of repentance." John has caught our attention, not to insult but to inspire our Advent preparations. For the Messiah draws near, baptizing with the Holy Spirit and fire. This is truly good news.

Any Good in This News?

Third Sunday of Advent

He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire - Luke 3:16

Winnowing, burning, fleeing, and name-calling: where is the good news? This passage from Luke ends a bit abruptly: "So, with many other exhortations, he proclaimed the good news to the people." Where is the good news in today's gospel message from John the Baptist?

The word "gospel" literally means "good news" and is used to describe the books of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John - those books that describe the life and ministry of Christ. "Gospel" is also used to describe the reading each week that comes from one of these fours books, and today's excerpt from Luke is our good news for this day. So where is the good in this news?

John the Baptist has earned his reputation for fiery and provocative preaching partly because of his startling address to those who came to be baptized: " You brood of vipers!" Comparing one's own congregation - those who came to hear him preach and be baptized! - to a hissing and writhing mess to poisonous snakes probably doesn't earn too many fans.

John continues to antagonize by even dismissing the entitlement claims of those who have been born into a faith community. And so we ask with the crowds that day, "What then should we do?"

Here is the good news, here is the gospel: we are all snakes, we are all children of Abraham, our lives both wheat and chaff. John's words strip away all pride and self-righteousness while simultaneously promising inclusion and salvation beyond anything this world can offer.

While we self-defensively curl up and hide among the shadows, fleeing in terror at any tremor or perceived earthly danger, the promise of the gospel redirects us: "Be fruits worthy of repentance." John has caught our attention, not to insult but to inspire our Advent preparations. For the Messiah draws near, baptizing with the Holy Spirit and fire. This is truly good news.

Political Poetry

Prepare the Way of the Lord - Luke 3:4

Yesterday's (Sunday) gospel reading begins with every lector's worst fear: a long list of names and places with mysterious pronunciations and even more mysterious significance. Most listerners briefly tune out this seemingly extraneous information, tuning back in for the poetic exhortation: "Prepare the Way!"

But these names, these places - these are the politicial leaders and seats of power that will be shaken by what is about to happen. These historical figures and geographical markers are the context into which God became flesh. This listing reveals the absolute audacity of our gospel's claim: that Emmanuel, God-with-us, came into the world as a specific time and specific place, and we are called to respond.

And yet those who gather in this time and in this place to ask: How can we respond? How can we prepare for an event that has already taken place? As soon as we acknowledge the historical nature of this Advent reading, the Christmas story, the tangible and visible presence fo God-made-flesh, it begins to feel distant, perhaps even disconnected from our own lives.

But John does not run for political office, petition the government officials just listed, nor even appeal to religious institutions - all of which have faded into the dusty pages of human history. John proclaims a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins to all who will listen. This timeless pronouncement has shaped our worship and sacraments within our church family and does so even now, some two thousand years after John the Baptist and his passionate ministry.

The transcendence of John's prophetic promise of forgiveness beyond time and place erupts into the gospel writer's inclusion of an ancient text, some 700 years old even by the time of Christ. Isaiah's plea to "prepare the way of the Lord" summons each one of us, mo matter where or when we find ourselves, to trust in the promise for all generations: "all flesh shall see the salvation of God"

Political Poetry

Prepare the Way of the Lord - Luke 3:4

Yesterday's (Sunday) gospel reading begins with every lector's worst fear: a long list of names and places with mysterious pronunciations and even more mysterious significance. Most listerners briefly tune out this seemingly extraneous information, tuning back in for the poetic exhortation: "Prepare the Way!"

But these names, these places - these are the politicial leaders and seats of power that will be shaken by what is about to happen. These historical figures and geographical markers are the context into which God became flesh. This listing reveals the absolute audacity of our gospel's claim: that Emmanuel, God-with-us, came into the world as a specific time and specific place, and we are called to respond.

And yet those who gather in this time and in this place to ask: How can we respond? How can we prepare for an event that has already taken place? As soon as we acknowledge the historical nature of this Advent reading, the Christmas story, the tangible and visible presence fo God-made-flesh, it begins to feel distant, perhaps even disconnected from our own lives.

But John does not run for political office, petition the government officials just listed, nor even appeal to religious institutions - all of which have faded into the dusty pages of human history. John proclaims a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins to all who will listen. This timeless pronouncement has shaped our worship and sacraments within our church family and does so even now, some two thousand years after John the Baptist and his passionate ministry.

The transcendence of John's prophetic promise of forgiveness beyond time and place erupts into the gospel writer's inclusion of an ancient text, some 700 years old even by the time of Christ. Isaiah's plea to "prepare the way of the Lord" summons each one of us, mo matter where or when we find ourselves, to trust in the promise for all generations: "all flesh shall see the salvation of God"

Political Poetry

Prepare the Way of the Lord - Luke 3:4

Yesterday's (Sunday) gospel reading begins with every lector's worst fear: a long list of names and places with mysterious pronunciations and even more mysterious significance. Most listerners briefly tune out this seemingly extraneous information, tuning back in for the poetic exhortation: "Prepare the Way!"

But these names, these places - these are the politicial leaders and seats of power that will be shaken by what is about to happen. These historical figures and geographical markers are the context into which God became flesh. This listing reveals the absolute audacity of our gospel's claim: that Emmanuel, God-with-us, came into the world as a specific time and specific place, and we are called to respond.

And yet those who gather in this time and in this place to ask: How can we respond? How can we prepare for an event that has already taken place? As soon as we acknowledge the historical nature of this Advent reading, the Christmas story, the tangible and visible presence fo God-made-flesh, it begins to feel distant, perhaps even disconnected from our own lives.

But John does not run for political office, petition the government officials just listed, nor even appeal to religious institutions - all of which have faded into the dusty pages of human history. John proclaims a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins to all who will listen. This timeless pronouncement has shaped our worship and sacraments within our church family and does so even now, some two thousand years after John the Baptist and his passionate ministry.

The transcendence of John's prophetic promise of forgiveness beyond time and place erupts into the gospel writer's inclusion of an ancient text, some 700 years old even by the time of Christ. Isaiah's plea to "prepare the way of the Lord" summons each one of us, mo matter where or when we find ourselves, to trust in the promise for all generations: "all flesh shall see the salvation of God"

From Foreboding to Flowering

First Sunday of Advent

Your Redemption is Drawing Near - Luke 21:28

The advent of computers, " the advent of the technological age," "the advent of space exploration" - though it is used somewhat sparingly in everyday conversation, "advent" occasionally emerges to describe significant shifts in our human experience.

So, too, this Advent season reveals seismic activity around us and within us. It seems strange to pair the anticipation of Christ's birth and all the hope and comfort that Christmas brings with warnings of the end times.

How can we hold both in our hearts simultaneously?
One inspires songs of praise on earth, while the other fortells shouts of distress and confusion. It is possible that our understanding of "comfortable Christmas" and "frightening final judgement" both need revision?

We can grudgingly admit that the Bethlehem story is filled with less-than-peaceful events (the holy family's flight to Egypt fleeing Herod's murderous rule being the most immediate). We happily (perhaps blithely) celebrate this candle-lit birthday in the shadow of the cross. We have learned to accept these Christmas incongruities.

But how can we understand the end times as less-than-terrifying, especially when our gospel today begins and ends with such disturbing warnings? Almost lost in the mist of these fearful images, Jesus shares a startling and encouraging parable - comparing these signs of change to the budding of trees, the singing of birds, the new hope of spring: "you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already near" (Luke 21:30).

This revealing link between foreboding and flowering, end of times and renewal of life - this is the good news for our season of Advent. We are not cower in our upper rooms, dreading the day of Christ's return. We are to stand up and raise our heads, because our redemption is drawing near (Luke 21:28) - thanks be to God!

From Foreboding to Flowering

First Sunday of Advent

Your Redemption is Drawing Near - Luke 21:28

The advent of computers, " the advent of the technological age," "the advent of space exploration" - though it is used somewhat sparingly in everyday conversation, "advent" occasionally emerges to describe significant shifts in our human experience.

So, too, this Advent season reveals seismic activity around us and within us. It seems strange to pair the anticipation of Christ's birth and all the hope and comfort that Christmas brings with warnings of the end times.

How can we hold both in our hearts simultaneously?
One inspires songs of praise on earth, while the other fortells shouts of distress and confusion. It is possible that our understanding of "comfortable Christmas" and "frightening final judgement" both need revision?

We can grudgingly admit that the Bethlehem story is filled with less-than-peaceful events (the holy family's flight to Egypt fleeing Herod's murderous rule being the most immediate). We happily (perhaps blithely) celebrate this candle-lit birthday in the shadow of the cross. We have learned to accept these Christmas incongruities.

But how can we understand the end times as less-than-terrifying, especially when our gospel today begins and ends with such disturbing warnings? Almost lost in the mist of these fearful images, Jesus shares a startling and encouraging parable - comparing these signs of change to the budding of trees, the singing of birds, the new hope of spring: "you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already near" (Luke 21:30).

This revealing link between foreboding and flowering, end of times and renewal of life - this is the good news for our season of Advent. We are not cower in our upper rooms, dreading the day of Christ's return. We are to stand up and raise our heads, because our redemption is drawing near (Luke 21:28) - thanks be to God!

From Foreboding to Flowering

First Sunday of Advent

Your Redemption is Drawing Near - Luke 21:28

The advent of computers, " the advent of the technological age," "the advent of space exploration" - though it is used somewhat sparingly in everyday conversation, "advent" occasionally emerges to describe significant shifts in our human experience.

So, too, this Advent season reveals seismic activity around us and within us. It seems strange to pair the anticipation of Christ's birth and all the hope and comfort that Christmas brings with warnings of the end times.

How can we hold both in our hearts simultaneously?
One inspires songs of praise on earth, while the other fortells shouts of distress and confusion. It is possible that our understanding of "comfortable Christmas" and "frightening final judgement" both need revision?

We can grudgingly admit that the Bethlehem story is filled with less-than-peaceful events (the holy family's flight to Egypt fleeing Herod's murderous rule being the most immediate). We happily (perhaps blithely) celebrate this candle-lit birthday in the shadow of the cross. We have learned to accept these Christmas incongruities.

But how can we understand the end times as less-than-terrifying, especially when our gospel today begins and ends with such disturbing warnings? Almost lost in the mist of these fearful images, Jesus shares a startling and encouraging parable - comparing these signs of change to the budding of trees, the singing of birds, the new hope of spring: "you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already near" (Luke 21:30).

This revealing link between foreboding and flowering, end of times and renewal of life - this is the good news for our season of Advent. We are not cower in our upper rooms, dreading the day of Christ's return. We are to stand up and raise our heads, because our redemption is drawing near (Luke 21:28) - thanks be to God!

Moment of Truth

Christ the King

My Kingdom is not from this world - John 18:36

Pilate is in a quandary. He knows there is something powerful about Jesus. Perhaps he has heard stories of what Jesus has done: turned water into wine (John 2); given a blind man sight (John 9); brought a dead man to life (John 11). Surely, Pilate knows Jesus has done something to put the religious authorities in turmoil.

Those authorities have brought Jesus to him, demanding Jesus' death. Pilate, however, cannot get to the bottom of their demands. And Jesus seems to have done nothing wrong, from what Pilate can see. So why all the anger?

Pilate goes to Jesus with his quandary. "Are you king of the Jews?" (John 18:33). Jesus wants to know if the question is Pilate's own. Pilate immediately gets defensive, saying that he cannot make any decisions about Jesus, given that he doesn't share Jesus' ethnic or religious heritage. From there the conversation takes a highly ironic turn. Jesus agrees that if Pilate says he is king, he is king. But Jesus is looking for a confession - not a verdict.

Jesus is looking to see if Pilate will recognize him as king in a way the world does not understand or see. Pilate's quandary becomes a moment of truth. On this Christ the King Sunday we end the church year, soon to begin another. We end the year with Pilate's question before us: Are you King? We have traveled through the story of Jesus, taking in his words and actions.

We have seen his birth and baptism, his death and resurrection. Now, this one who was put to death for being a king unlike any other beckons us. This humble, self-giving king - Christ crucified, Christ risen - invites hearts opened in faith. There can be no defense for this king; only trust. Only a moment of truth. Is Christ the ruler of our lives?

Moment of Truth

Christ the King

My Kingdom is not from this world - John 18:36

Pilate is in a quandary. He knows there is something powerful about Jesus. Perhaps he has heard stories of what Jesus has done: turned water into wine (John 2); given a blind man sight (John 9); brought a dead man to life (John 11). Surely, Pilate knows Jesus has done something to put the religious authorities in turmoil.

Those authorities have brought Jesus to him, demanding Jesus' death. Pilate, however, cannot get to the bottom of their demands. And Jesus seems to have done nothing wrong, from what Pilate can see. So why all the anger?

Pilate goes to Jesus with his quandary. "Are you king of the Jews?" (John 18:33). Jesus wants to know if the question is Pilate's own. Pilate immediately gets defensive, saying that he cannot make any decisions about Jesus, given that he doesn't share Jesus' ethnic or religious heritage. From there the conversation takes a highly ironic turn. Jesus agrees that if Pilate says he is king, he is king. But Jesus is looking for a confession - not a verdict.

Jesus is looking to see if Pilate will recognize him as king in a way the world does not understand or see. Pilate's quandary becomes a moment of truth. On this Christ the King Sunday we end the church year, soon to begin another. We end the year with Pilate's question before us: Are you King? We have traveled through the story of Jesus, taking in his words and actions.

We have seen his birth and baptism, his death and resurrection. Now, this one who was put to death for being a king unlike any other beckons us. This humble, self-giving king - Christ crucified, Christ risen - invites hearts opened in faith. There can be no defense for this king; only trust. Only a moment of truth. Is Christ the ruler of our lives?

Moment of Truth

Christ the King

My Kingdom is not from this world - John 18:36

Pilate is in a quandary. He knows there is something powerful about Jesus. Perhaps he has heard stories of what Jesus has done: turned water into wine (John 2); given a blind man sight (John 9); brought a dead man to life (John 11). Surely, Pilate knows Jesus has done something to put the religious authorities in turmoil.

Those authorities have brought Jesus to him, demanding Jesus' death. Pilate, however, cannot get to the bottom of their demands. And Jesus seems to have done nothing wrong, from what Pilate can see. So why all the anger?

Pilate goes to Jesus with his quandary. "Are you king of the Jews?" (John 18:33). Jesus wants to know if the question is Pilate's own. Pilate immediately gets defensive, saying that he cannot make any decisions about Jesus, given that he doesn't share Jesus' ethnic or religious heritage. From there the conversation takes a highly ironic turn. Jesus agrees that if Pilate says he is king, he is king. But Jesus is looking for a confession - not a verdict.

Jesus is looking to see if Pilate will recognize him as king in a way the world does not understand or see. Pilate's quandary becomes a moment of truth. On this Christ the King Sunday we end the church year, soon to begin another. We end the year with Pilate's question before us: Are you King? We have traveled through the story of Jesus, taking in his words and actions.

We have seen his birth and baptism, his death and resurrection. Now, this one who was put to death for being a king unlike any other beckons us. This humble, self-giving king - Christ crucified, Christ risen - invites hearts opened in faith. There can be no defense for this king; only trust. Only a moment of truth. Is Christ the ruler of our lives?

What Matters

24th Sunday after Pentecost

This is but the beginning of the birth pangs - Mark 13:8

Many church buildings are beautiful. One contemporary congregation worships in the round, surrounded by delicate carvings of the saints. Another congregation worships in a sanctuary supported by stunning wood floors and rotating liturgical over behind the altar.

Yet another assembly gathers in a sanctuary over 100 years old, lined with brilliant stained-glass windows that proclaim the faith from one generation to the next.

The shape and scope of our worship spaces are incredibly important. Their beauty bears vital witness to the nature of God's love in Christ. The grounding they provide us can give shape and structure to our own faith and life.

Jesus' words in Mark chapter 13, however, temper all this. Jesus' disciples are taken up by the majesty of the temple. "Look", they tell him, "what large stones and what large buildings!" (Mark 13:1). Jesus cautions their admiration.

The St. Paul Evangelical Lutheran Church (ELCA) in Grosse Pointe Farms, Michigan

He tells them a time is coming when "all will be thrown down." The building is temporal - as are all worship structures - no matter how dedicated to the kingdom of heaven. The disciples want to know when the temple will be torn down.

Jesus does not give a specific answer. He speaks instead about what to look for as one takes up the walk of faith. Others will claim to be the Messiah, and many will be led "astray" by such claims (Mark 13:6). The faithful are not to be taken in by these claims - any more than by anxiety over war, earthquakes, or famine.

Rather, what ultimately matters is the presence of God and God's love for all creation. This love, revealed in the body of Christ, is eternal, not temporal; it does not cease of fall away. In the midst of our anxiety and loss, in the midst of everything we experience, the steadfast love of God is the ground beneath our feet. Trusting in God is the one thing that truly matters.

What Matters

24th Sunday after Pentecost

This is but the beginning of the birth pangs - Mark 13:8

Many church buildings are beautiful. One contemporary congregation worships in the round, surrounded by delicate carvings of the saints. Another congregation worships in a sanctuary supported by stunning wood floors and rotating liturgical over behind the altar.

Yet another assembly gathers in a sanctuary over 100 years old, lined with brilliant stained-glass windows that proclaim the faith from one generation to the next.

The shape and scope of our worship spaces are incredibly important. Their beauty bears vital witness to the nature of God's love in Christ. The grounding they provide us can give shape and structure to our own faith and life.

Jesus' words in Mark chapter 13, however, temper all this. Jesus' disciples are taken up by the majesty of the temple. "Look", they tell him, "what large stones and what large buildings!" (Mark 13:1). Jesus cautions their admiration.

The St. Paul Evangelical Lutheran Church (ELCA) in Grosse Pointe Farms, Michigan

He tells them a time is coming when "all will be thrown down." The building is temporal - as are all worship structures - no matter how dedicated to the kingdom of heaven. The disciples want to know when the temple will be torn down.

Jesus does not give a specific answer. He speaks instead about what to look for as one takes up the walk of faith. Others will claim to be the Messiah, and many will be led "astray" by such claims (Mark 13:6). The faithful are not to be taken in by these claims - any more than by anxiety over war, earthquakes, or famine.

Rather, what ultimately matters is the presence of God and God's love for all creation. This love, revealed in the body of Christ, is eternal, not temporal; it does not cease of fall away. In the midst of our anxiety and loss, in the midst of everything we experience, the steadfast love of God is the ground beneath our feet. Trusting in God is the one thing that truly matters.

What Matters

24th Sunday after Pentecost

This is but the beginning of the birth pangs - Mark 13:8

Many church buildings are beautiful. One contemporary congregation worships in the round, surrounded by delicate carvings of the saints. Another congregation worships in a sanctuary supported by stunning wood floors and rotating liturgical over behind the altar.

Yet another assembly gathers in a sanctuary over 100 years old, lined with brilliant stained-glass windows that proclaim the faith from one generation to the next.

The shape and scope of our worship spaces are incredibly important. Their beauty bears vital witness to the nature of God's love in Christ. The grounding they provide us can give shape and structure to our own faith and life.

Jesus' words in Mark chapter 13, however, temper all this. Jesus' disciples are taken up by the majesty of the temple. "Look", they tell him, "what large stones and what large buildings!" (Mark 13:1). Jesus cautions their admiration.

The St. Paul Evangelical Lutheran Church (ELCA) in Grosse Pointe Farms, Michigan

He tells them a time is coming when "all will be thrown down." The building is temporal - as are all worship structures - no matter how dedicated to the kingdom of heaven. The disciples want to know when the temple will be torn down.

Jesus does not give a specific answer. He speaks instead about what to look for as one takes up the walk of faith. Others will claim to be the Messiah, and many will be led "astray" by such claims (Mark 13:6). The faithful are not to be taken in by these claims - any more than by anxiety over war, earthquakes, or famine.

Rather, what ultimately matters is the presence of God and God's love for all creation. This love, revealed in the body of Christ, is eternal, not temporal; it does not cease of fall away. In the midst of our anxiety and loss, in the midst of everything we experience, the steadfast love of God is the ground beneath our feet. Trusting in God is the one thing that truly matters.

All She Had

23rd Sunday after Pentecost

She put in everything she had, all she had to live on - Mark 12:44

Imagine putting everything you own in an offering plate! For many of us, the offering plate would have to be fairly substantial: large enough to hold homes, stocks, investments, electronic devices, furniture, cars, boats, all kinds of other "toys." Others of us might not need such a large plate, but still we would likely have something to give: perhaps a home, perhaps a car, perhaps food off a shelf, perhaps some treasured possession.

Jesus watched acts of stewardship - he watched as a whole crowd put "money into the treasury" (Mark 12:41). He watched as one rich person after another placed their gifts into the plate, as it were. These were no small amounts of money! Still, Jesus was not impressed with their giving. It was the impoverished widow who drew his attention.

The widow gave a pittance - not enough to bolster the temple budget by any stretch of the imagination. She gave only "two copper coins" worth a penny; hardly enough either to feed a hungry person or provide for temple worship needs.

But Jesus praised her, not the wealthy givers. "Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. For all of them have contributed out of their abundance; but she ... put in everything she had" (Mark 12:43-44).

Some have asked if the widow was responsible, in giving her gift. Without any money left for her own needs, she was entirely dependent on others. But that, perhaps, is the point. Her heart was large - large enough to trust God with all she was, all she had.

Her act of faith challenges future believers: do our gifts reflect our total dependence on God? Do we give gifts of whatever size because it is the right, perfunctory thing to do? Or are our gifts about utter trust in God's desire to provide for us?

All She Had

23rd Sunday after Pentecost

She put in everything she had, all she had to live on - Mark 12:44

Imagine putting everything you own in an offering plate! For many of us, the offering plate would have to be fairly substantial: large enough to hold homes, stocks, investments, electronic devices, furniture, cars, boats, all kinds of other "toys." Others of us might not need such a large plate, but still we would likely have something to give: perhaps a home, perhaps a car, perhaps food off a shelf, perhaps some treasured possession.

Jesus watched acts of stewardship - he watched as a whole crowd put "money into the treasury" (Mark 12:41). He watched as one rich person after another placed their gifts into the plate, as it were. These were no small amounts of money! Still, Jesus was not impressed with their giving. It was the impoverished widow who drew his attention.

The widow gave a pittance - not enough to bolster the temple budget by any stretch of the imagination. She gave only "two copper coins" worth a penny; hardly enough either to feed a hungry person or provide for temple worship needs.

But Jesus praised her, not the wealthy givers. "Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. For all of them have contributed out of their abundance; but she ... put in everything she had" (Mark 12:43-44).

Some have asked if the widow was responsible, in giving her gift. Without any money left for her own needs, she was entirely dependent on others. But that, perhaps, is the point. Her heart was large - large enough to trust God with all she was, all she had.

Her act of faith challenges future believers: do our gifts reflect our total dependence on God? Do we give gifts of whatever size because it is the right, perfunctory thing to do? Or are our gifts about utter trust in God's desire to provide for us?