Tag Archives: Christian Life and Discipleship

The Seat of Arrogance or the Heart’s Desire?

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James and John are looking for the best seat in the house. They want to sit next to Jesus, in his glory, one on his right and one on his left. That seat, however, is only for those for whom it has been prepared.

James and John sound a bit arrogant and self-seeking; interested in privilege, honor, and status. That’s often how this text is interpreted. There is certainly no lack of that kind of behavior in our world. We’ve all seen it in others and, if we are honest, in ourselves as well. Maybe the usual interpretation and judgment are more a statement about our own motives than that of James and John. Maybe that’s why the other ten are so upset. Maybe, however, there is more to this story than the usual interpretation. Maybe there is another way to understand what is going on not only in the text but with us.

When I was a kid my sister and I often argued about who got to sit next to our grandmother. In elementary school I wanted to sit next to my best friend. In high school algebra I wanted to sit next to Jennifer, a really cute blonde. I remember the joy and gratitude of sitting next to my first spiritual mentor. After I met Cyndy, my wife, I wanted to sit as close to her as possible. I still do.

We all have those people in our lives that attract and draw us to them. Their lives speak to us of love and friendship. They show us something about ourselves. Their presence changes who we are. They call from us the best part of who we are. In them we catch a glimpse of something holy, Continue reading →

The Bread We Eat – A Sermon on John 6:24-35; Proper 13B

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The collect and readings for today, Proper 13B, may be found here. The following sermon is based on John 6:24-35.

We live as hungry people in a hungry world. Everyone is looking for something that will sustain and nourish life, something that will feed and energize, something that will fill and satisfy. Everyone is looking for bread. The problem is not that we are hungry, but the kind of bread we eat.

Think about the varieties of bread being eaten in our lives and in the world today. King David is surely not the only one to have ever eaten the bread of betrayal, adultery, or murder. In Syria both sides are eating the bread of violence and war. Republicans and Democrats share the bread of negativity, hostility, and name-calling. In the Chik-fil-A debacle both sides are eating the bread that objectifies and depersonalizes another human being. Many of us eat the bread of having to be right and get our way. We eat the bread of hurt feelings and resentment. Sometimes we eat the bread of loneliness, fear, and isolation. There are times we eat the bread of sorrow or guilt. Other times we eat the bread of power and control. Sometimes we eat the bread of revenge or oneupmanship. We eat all kinds of bread. The bread we eat reveals something about the nature of our appetites.

The world is full of bread and yet far too many live hungry, empty, and searching. That says something about our appetites and the bread we have eaten. It’s a sure sign that the bread we have eaten cannot give real life. It is perishable bread that nourishes only a perishable life. It leaves us wanting only more of the same.

Not all bread sustains and grows life. Not all bread is nutritious. If you want to know the nutritional value of the bread you have to look beyond the bread. Where did it come from? What are its ingredients?

That’s what Jesus is teaching in today’s gospel. The people have shown up hungry. Just yesterday Jesus fed 5000 of them with five loaves and two fish. Today they show up and their first question is, “Rabbi, when did you come here?”

They do not marvel at yesterday’s miracle, give thanks for God’s generosity, or even wonder who this rabbi is. It sounds to me like they are worried they might have missed the next meal, that Jesus started without them and they are too late. They saw no sign, no miracle, in yesterday’s feeding. They saw nothing more than fish and bread. They either refused or were unable to see beyond the fish and bread. They are interested only in their own appetites and Jesus knows it.

“Very truly, I tell you, you are looking for me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves,” he says to them. The people are concerned for their bellies. Jesus is concerned for their lives. The people want to feed themselves with bread. Jesus wants to feed them with God. “Do not work for the food that perishes,” he tells them, “but for the food that endures for eternal life.”

The food that endures is Jesus himself. He is the bread that is broken and distributed for the life of the world. He is the bread that is broken and yet never divided. He is the bread that is eaten and yet never exhausted. He is the bread that consecrates those who believe in and eat him.

When we believe in Jesus, eating, ingesting, and taking him into our lives, we live differently. We see ourselves and one another as persons created in the image and likeness of God rather than  as obstacles or issues to be overcome. We trust the silence of prayer rather than the words of argument. We choose love and forgiveness rather than anger and retribution. We relate with intimacy and vulnerability rather than superficiality and defensiveness. We listen for God’s voice rather than our own. Ultimately, we seek life rather than death.

“I am the bread of life,” Jesus tells the people. “Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.” He is offering the people himself. He is the imperishable bread that nourishes and sustains imperishable life.

Jesus makes us the same offer. He offers himself to us in every one of our relationships: family, friends, strangers, enemies, those who agree with us, and those who disagree. In every situation and each day of our life we choose the bread we will eat, perishable or imperishable. In so doing we also choose the life we want.

So I wonder, what bread will we eat today?

No Longer Drained of Life – A Sermon on Mark 5:21-43; Proper 8B

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The collect and readings for the Fifth Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 8, may be found here. The following sermon is based on the gospel, Mark 5:21-43.

Do you ever feel like the bucket of your life has a hole in it? That it leaks faster than you can fill it? No matter what you do, how hard you work, where you go, what you try, you just can’t fill it up. Work, play, friends, and family all leave you feeling empty, restless, and searching. You can’t seem to get enough. The outflow is greater than the inflow. You are left drained of life: tired and weak, frustrated and hopeless, angry and resentful, sorrowful and grieving, fearful that you will never have the life you want. If you know what that is like, perhaps you know the hemorrhaging woman in today’s gospel.

We don’t know her name. We don’t know where she came from. She could be any one of us. She’s anonymous; another face in the crowd. What we do know is that she is sick, desperate, and in need. She has been bleeding for 12 years. That’s 4,380 days. In all that time no one has been able to help her. She’s spent all she had: time, money, energy. She’s only gotten worse. Day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year it’s always the same. Blood. She’s a walking fountain of blood.

The woman’s condition is more than physical. She’s losing more than blood. She’s losing her life, its warmth, vitality, and fruitfulness. That is a spiritual matter. Life and death always are.

At one level this is a story of an individual woman. At another level it is the human story. Her story is our story. It is as much about men as it is woman. Drained of life, we go through the motions. We’re alive but not really living. We feel disconnected, isolated, and alone.

Often we convince ourselves that once this or that happens everything will be better. As soon as he changes, as soon as she does what I want, as soon as the economy gets better, as soon as I get a new job, as soon as I have enough money, as soon as I have more time, as soon as I get through this project, as soon as …. We all have our “as soon as.”

I suspect the bleeding women spent many of the last 4,380 days thinking, “As soon as.…” Today, however, is different. Something in her has changed, shifted. She has heard about Jesus. Maybe she heard about his teaching, about him casting out demons, about him healing the sick, or about him calming the storm on the sea.

We don’t know what she heard about Jesus but it was enough to make her believe she is more than a bleeding woman. She would no longer wait on others to fix her life. She refused to be identified with the circumstances of her life. Today she would reach beyond those circumstances and literally take matters into her own hand.

Deep within she knows, “If I but touch his clothes, I will be made well.” No matter how much we bleed, the truth of those words flows through our veins. She knows that Jesus offers a life that is “unleakable,” a life that can never be drained from her.

She touched his cloak. In that moment she was transfused with and by the power of God. It was enough to touch. The connection was made and a relationship established. Life no longer leaked out of her but flowed into her.

The hemorrhage stopped but the healing continued. “Who touched my clothes?” Jesus asked. He was calling her out. He would not allow her to remain a nameless face in the crowd. He would not allow her to drift off into anonymity. He named her, “Daughter,” and sent her on the path of peace. She would no longer be the bleeding woman. She is now a daughter. She has an identity, a place, and a relationship. She has been healed and made whole. She is now fully alive and free to go in peace.

That is the “unleakable” life Jesus offers each of us. We no longer have to live drained of life. We too can know ourselves to be called, “Son” or “Daughter.” We too can walk the path of peace fully alive. If we but touch his clothes we too will be healed.

Every moment holds before us the opportunity to touch. That means we must reach beyond the circumstances of our lives. We can no longer live “as soon as” lives. It means we must take matters into our own hands. I’m not suggesting that we are in control but that we have a choice and a responsibility. Our faith must be active and tangible. How do we do that? We begin by looking at the clothes Jesus wears.

Sometime he drapes himself in silence, solitude, and prayer. Sometimes it’s mercy and forgiveness. Sometimes it’s thanksgiving and gratitude. Other times it’s compassion and generosity. Always it is self-giving love. The very attributes and characteristics of his life are the clothes he wears and the clothes we are to touch.

Wherever you are living drained of life, touch the clothes of Christ. Connect to them in your own life. Let them transfuse you with his life, his love, and his power. Touch and be healed. Touch and be named. Touch and go in peace.

Jesus heals the bleeding woman,
from the Catacombs of Rome

The Fruitfulness of Staying Connected – A Sermon on John 15:1-8, Easter 5B

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The collect and readings for the Fifth Sunday of Easter may be found here. The following sermon is based on John 15:1-8.

Some branches produce fruit and are pruned, cared for and nurtured. Some branches do not produce fruit and are removed, thrown away and burned.

We are a people of productivity. It is, for the most part, the standard by how we live and the measure of our success. It is built into our lives everywhere. Productivity is the basis of our economic system. Those who produce are rewarded and get more. Those who do not produce are thrown out. Within our educational system the students who do well and produce are recognized and supported while those who do not produce get lost in the system. Professors know well the mantra, “Publish or perish.” Careers and promotions are based on productivity. Productivity at some level is at the core of the debates around poverty, welfare, healthcare, and the elderly. “They” do not produce and our care of and for them often reflects what we think of that.

We have been convinced that productivity is the goal and only the fittest survive. I wonder if that isn’t how many of us live our spiritual lives. How many of us have been told, in some form or fashion, or come to believe that pruned branches go to heaven and removed branches go to hell? Pruned branches produced so they are rewarded while non-productive branches are punished.

In that (mis)understanding fruit is God’s demand upon our life and the means by which we appease God. If we are not careful we’ll get stuck categorizing ourselves and one another into fruit bearing or non-fruit bearing branches. There is, however, a deeper issue than the production of fruit. Productivity does not usually create deep abiding and intimate relationships. It creates transactions. Jesus is not talking about or demanding productivity. He wants and offers connectivity, relationship, and intimacy.

Fruit or the lack thereof is a manifestation of our interior life and health. It describes and reveals whether we are living connected or disconnected lives. Fruit production is the natural consequence of staying connected. You can see that in long-term friendships, marriages, community loyalty. We do not choose whether or not we produce fruit. We do, however, choose where we abide and how we stay connected.

You know how that is. Sometimes we lose touch with a particular person. We no longer know where he or she is, what she is doing, or what is happening in her life. One day we run into him or her. It’s a bit awkward. No one is sure what to say. There’s not much to talk about. There was no deep abiding presence, the connection is lost, and it seems as if what was has been thrown away. Other people we run into after five or ten years and the conversation immediately picks up where we left off those many years ago. Even though we were apart we never left each other. There was and remains a connection and mutual abiding that time, distance, and the circumstances of life cannot sever.

“What fruit am I producing?” “How much?” “Is it an acceptable quality?” Those are good questions if we understand and ask them diagnostically, as questions not about the quantity of our lives but the quality of our lives. That’s what Jesus is after. That is the deeper question he is asking. It is the invitation to join the conversation, jump into the game, to participate, and to live fully alive. That only happens when the life, the love, and the goodness and holiness of Christ flow in us. We become an extension of and manifest his life, love, and holiness.

It is a relationship of union even as a branch is united to the vine. We live our lives as one. This is not just about relationship with Jesus; it affects and is the basis for our relationships with one another. Love for Jesus, one another, and ourselves become one love. We soon discover we are living one life and the fruit of that life and love is abundant, overflowing, and Father glorifying.