Looking for the New in an Old Story

Read Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32.

This is a rich story for most people even with mild Bible literacy. It's just so utterly close to human experience. The idea of the son traveling to a far off land rings of fairy tale speak, but very quickly the story hits us close as we hear of this lost and foundness of our prodigal friend and the challenging emotions of each family member. The struggle for me as I read is to hear something surprising or fresh -- here is what struck me this week.

1) Jesus eats with sinners as a sign of reconciliation. We've been talking about that in church since Advent when we began looking at Luke's special eye toward food and forgiveness. We looked at it earlier this week in Joshua. The first Passover feast in the land marked the promise kept to the people Israel. We've been talking about it on Wednesday nights during Lent. So it is with the Prodigal Son. A banquet celebrates return and belonging. (Dennis Tucker points this out too on workingpreacher.org)

2) For the first time, I noticed the Prodigal Son never even has the chance to speak his words of regret to his father before forgiveness is granted -- before the son is able to influence the gift with his own words. I find this a relief, in part because this indicates a kind of true gift of reconciliation. It's not dependent upon the diplomacy of the son. There are no conditions. I'm also relieved because coming home out of bodily hunger is a little less desirable in my opinion, than coming home because you love and miss your family. It grates me a little to hear the son speak of the bounty of his home when he is need of food so I'm relieved he doesn't speak again before the father finds him. But maybe that's the point of being found. Maybe he didn't know just how lost he was until he arrived home.

Reflection

• There is so much to imagine in this story, so much to supply with the stories of own lives. How has this story touched you?
• In reading it again, is there something you see that is brand new?

Prayer

We thank you, Holy One, for the gift of story, the stories of the Bible, the stories of our lives, and the big story of which we are all a part: life, death, and new life through your Son, Jesus. Amen

A Day in the Life of...

Read 2 Corinthians 5:16-21.

I'm going to offer up a personal reflection on this short passage from St. Paul. It's been an emotional twenty-four hours for me. Last night I participated in a thoroughly engaging discussion with Pastor Russ and Pastor Carl on the Feeding of the 5,000 for our Lenten series. I was worried all day that we would come across sounding like Bible geeks and say very little of relevance to your every day lives. But much to my delight, everyone was right into the story with us. It confirmed this feeling I have lately that instead of being a parish sponge, absorbing the workings and ongoing life of Hope Lutheran, I am now spending more time giving to that life with my fledgling pastoral skills. As I face life at our church without Pastor Carl, I can rejoice in Paul's words that everything is becoming new including my very own self. Which brings me to Pastor Carl...

After Lenten worship, I was whisked into our council meeting where Pastor Carl offered his exit interview. It was reflective and emotional particularly for our founding members and full of promise for the future. Everyone felt the bittersweet nature of his departure. Jerrie, our council president was so right when she said, things are happening at Hope Lutheran. I've noticed too: financial giving is up, attendance is changing, there is a new kind of energy that has been brewing for some time and now seems to be bubbling to the surface. Everything is becoming new.

After council, I drove home dwelling on the evening. Upon arrival, I finished my daily blog with minutes to spare, rose this morning and headed to San Luis for our conference gathering of pastors. Pastor Carl was there and we began with a laying on of hands by all the pastors who have supported him and been his partners in the wider church. Most everyone prayed spontaneously. Not me though. I was busy getting teary because I was keenly aware of the Holy at work in the hands sending him off. I don't think I was sad though because of the loss even though I will miss my friend and colleague. I was simply overwhelmed with the reality that all things are becoming new: Pastor Carl, the me that wouldn't be the same had he not been in my life, and our church. In Christ, there is a new creation. Hour by hour, nothing seems so true as this.

Reflection

• How are you experiencing God's doing of a new thing here at our church?
• How is God reconciling you personally to Christ in this transition?

Prayer

Gracious God, through your Son you make all things new, from the hearts of our unique selves to the wider heart of our church. We give thanks for your encouraging Word among us in the midst of our uncertainty. Your Word, Your Son, Amen.

After a Flood

Reread Psalm 32.

This is such a powerful psalm. It contains the essential thrust of Lent: repentance and forgiveness. Return, return, return. From Joshua to the Prodigal Son, we are thoroughly immersed in the realm of reconciliation as we prepare for the remembrance of our ultimate transgression against God: the crucifixion of Jesus. Are these words meant to fortify us for the coming trial?

Transgression is one of my favorite theological words in translation. I used it once when a friend and I were trying to assess the damage we had done one another in an argument. The word transgression (v.1) seems in meaning to go beyond the usual words we designate to our wrongdoings against one another, words like "hurt" or "wound" or "fault" or "harm." It implies that something has been so violated that a permanent mark has been made. Indeed, transgression often applies to the breach of boundaries or the breaking of law or command. Strangely enough, it's a geological term too. It refers to the coastal flooding of land due to the rise and fall of plates. In other words, the waters transgress against the land and leave permanent evidence of their onslaught.

Not so with God. With God, the imprints have returned to form, the law has been restored, we have arrived home.

Reflection

• When have you transgressed against God or a loved one? When have your experienced genuine forgiveness?
• Which words speak to you in the psalm?

Prayer

God who forgives all, we turn to you and ask to return home. We rejoice in your land. In the name of your Son, Jesus Christ, Amen

Hiding

Read Psalm 32.

I am intrigued by the psalmist's attention to the work of unconfessed truths on our hearts. "While I kept silence, my body wasted away through my groaning all day long" (v. 3). How true is this? As I read it, I could feel in a visceral way what it is like to be weighted down by something that needs to be revealed in the light of day. When most of us read these lines, we probably associate them with personal guilt at our own wrongdoing: how have I hurt someone or what have I done that might hurt someone if they were to find out?

Consider however, what it is like to keep any sort of secret, whether or not you were the one responsible for the harm. What if you were the one harmed? I had student once who never did his homework because he was too busy working for his parents chopping wood and doing manual labor on the odd jobs his dad picked up. He was cold in the long winters and probably hungry. He never had time to play or be kid and didn't have anyone to tell. He was wasting away. And so what if you carry undressed wounds of anger or fear? Sometimes confessing sin is simply giving words to brokenness.

The effect of holding things inside of ourselves that need to have breath is a toll on our bodies: sleeplessness, loss of appetite, stress on our internal organs, sometimes even new pathways of anxiety carved into our brains. Experiencing confession and forgiveness is our way to survive.

Since Lent began, I have spent a good deal of time in the parish dwelling on "silence." And this week, we have a psalm that shouts to us "SPEAK!" Do not hide in yourself. Hide in God.

Reflection

I'm not sure I even need to ask a question. We all know what the psalmist is talking about. If there is something you carry well hidden, is it possible for you to ask God into this place?

Prayer

Let us thank you, God, that we are not alone. You take us as we are and draw us into the light of your grace. You know what we have done. You know what has been done to us. You do not leave us there but surround us with steadfast love. We thank you in the name of your Son, Jesus Christ our Lord, Amen.

Loosing Track in the Story

Read again Joshua 5:9-12.

Before starting these entries on Joshua, it had been a long, long time since I had read that book of the Bible. Funnily enough, Joshua is one of my favorite heroes. I thought it would be good to refresh myself so I reread the first seven chapters. As soon as I became involved in the story of the spies taking shelter in the house of Rahab, the prostitute (she's an ancestor of Jesus by the way), I forgot I was reading the Bible. (I admit, I remembered again when the Israelite warriors were marching around the city walls for the millionth time.) I love it when I forget myself while reading scripture. And I was all caught up when God rolled the river Jordan back and allowed the tribes to pass over into Canaan on dry land. I remembered too in that moment the dry passage through the Red Sea and Jesus' baptism in that holy river. There are many stories held in the sacred geography of the Bible.

I was thinking about the two most recent baptisms in our church while I read these stories as well -- how the water we poured over them contains that whole history. The water contains the travels of all our ancestors. We need our rituals to remind us of the stories that have formed us. But we also need to know the stories so that when we enact our rituals, we feel the richness of meaning layered into the signs of God's grace.

Reflection

• What book of the Bible is a favorite of yours that you haven't picked up in awhile?
• When you participate in church rituals like baptism, what do you think about? How about communion? What do you imagine during the Words of Institution?

Prayer

We give thanks, O God, for our traditions and the stories that made them. Guide our feet in the way of our ancestors and as we travel, open us to your mysteries and Word. In your Holy Name, Amen

A Full Belly and a Full Heart

Read Joshua 5:9-12.

Two Sundays ago, I preached on the literal meaning of salvation and the call to live out our freedom beside one another. Joshua, whose name means deliverance, shares the same name with Jesus, I said. This week, we hear about the first days in the land. The passage opens with the Lord explaining to the people that they are now free of "the disgrace of Egypt." Slavery cripples people. Slavery creates a world where obeying God and loving each other freely is nearly impossible even when safe in the wilderness. And so the new generation enters Israel with not one survivor of Egypt among them, not even Moses. The disgrace of their disobedience while enslaved has been rolled away. They move into the land uncorrupted by the experience of oppression.

Dennis Tucker Jr. on workingpreacher.org makes a helpful observation: notice the connection between forgiveness, freedom, and feasting. The Israelites are forgiven for their ancestral transgressions. They are given a bounty of crops in a sign of the Lord's faithfulness. Further, it is the Passover feast which they keep. As we read with Christian eyes, we may think of the Last Supper and the ongoing relationship between forgiveness and nourishment in divinely ordained meals.

There's another connection too in our lives. I cook for people when I am done arguing with them. And they cook for me as well. How many times have you found yourself sharing a meal with someone with whom you have reconciled be it a family member or friend? Eating and forgiveness go hand in hand. The bounty of our kitchen tables can be a sign of healing. I lost my best friend once for more years than I care to recall. When I couldn't take it anymore, I flew to her city. She drove me to her home, sat me at her table, and fed me.

Reflection

• Imagine yourself at Gilgal. What would you have been thinking before stepping foot in the promised land?
• When has reconciliation been sown through eating in your life?

Prayer

Lord of our freedom, you keep promises. You roll away the shortcomings of our past and lay a feast before us, your people. You heal us with crops grown on promised land. We give you thanks in your Holy Name, Amen