"Thy Kingdom Come"

 “‘Thy Kingdom Come’” was preached at First Presbyterian Church of Allentown, PA on July 23, 2023. You can hear/watch this sermon here, starting at 36:10.

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Scripture text:
Luke 6:17-26

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For the last couple of weeks, we have been preaching on the Lord's Prayer. We've been breaking it down week by week and reflecting on the different lines throughout the prayer: "Our Father, Who Art in Heaven," "Hallowed Be Thy Name," "Thy Kingdom Come," and so on. 

Last Sunday in our summer series on the Lord’s Prayer, we explored the importance of revering God's holy name and God’s holy actions. We recognized the need for a restoration of the “holy” in our lives and in the world. As we utter the words, "Hallowed be thy name," we acknowledge our desire for God's name to be honored in every aspect of our existence. This prayer takes us beyond mere repetition of words, inviting us to align our hearts and minds with the sacred and to live in reverence of God's presence.

But our prayers do not end there. In fact, that is only the beginning. In the Lord’s Prayer, a prayer that Jesus gave us to say as well as to use as a model for our other prayers, our prayer petitions continue. Today, we pray and mediate on the petition, “Thy Kingdom Come.” 

But before we dive into our scripture passage, I want to reference a book we have been using as a main resource for this series. The Rev. Dr. Albert Curry Winn’s published this book, A Christian Primer, in 1990 (two years before I was born). The Rev. Dr. Albert Curry Winn was Moderator of the 119th General Assembly (1979) of the Presbyterian Church in the United States, President Emeritus of Louisville Presbyterian Theological Seminary, and the leader of the committee that drafted “A Declaration of Faith” for the Presbyterian Church. In his book, A Christian Primer, he reflected on the different lines of the Lord’s Prayer. Here’s a part of what he wrote on “Thy Kingdom Come”:

“Someone commented that ‘Hallowed be thy name’ is a bit abstract. ‘Thy kingdom come’ is a bit concrete. In fact, it may be entirely too concrete for some of us. If you feel that religion should have nothing to do with politics, I advise you to stay away from this petition. ‘Kingdom’ is an incurably political word. When we pray ‘Thy kingdom come,’ we are not praying to be taken out of the political order into some heavenly sphere where no decisions have to be made about how power and money and services ought to be distributed among people. We are praying that God's sovereignty may come to earth and become effective in the political realm and for the political questions that plague us and at times divide us. We are saying, ‘Take over, God. Rule and overrule in the affairs of people and nations.’”

Jesus teaches us that we must pray for the rule of God over all human affairs to become actual, real, and visible. And in a world that often seems devoid of God's presence, we are the ones called to intercede for the coming of God's kingdom. 

But first, this is no earthly kingdom. This is God’s kingdom, and while the petition, “Thy Kingdom Come” is concrete, the word “kingdom” here is a little more difficult to define.

The concept of the "kingdom" as described by Jesus is both present and future. Jesus declared that the kingdom of God was already at hand, indicating its imminent arrival. In the gospel of Mark, Jesus begins his ministry by bolding declaring, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.” (Mark 1:15). He emphasized this further when he cast out demons, stating that if he did so by the finger of God, then the kingdom of God had already come. And whenever questioned about the kingdom's arrival, Jesus responded that it was in their midst and has already made a tangible impact on the world.

However, Jesus also spoke of the kingdom as something that is yet to come. He described how we should receive it like little children. He spoke of the quality of righteousness required to enter it. He encouraged us to seek God's kingdom and to pray for its arrival. Jesus did not detail every aspect of the present and future kingdom, but instead, instructed us to be a part of it through our own actions: repent, believe, receive, enter, seek, pray, etc. And he also used parables to convey its nature. The kingdom of God is like a seed sown in the ground, growing silently until the harvest. It is like a hidden net filled with various fish or it is like yeast in dough that causes it to rise. At times it is hidden, but it is always there at work for something good and great. 

Our prayers and search for the kingdom are aimed at its eventual manifestation, when it becomes visible, effective, and real. The hidden presence of the kingdom guarantees that it will eventually be revealed in God's own timing. Just as one cannot prevent a seed from sprouting or bread from rising, the kingdom of God cannot be stopped from coming.

Which bring us to our passage for today: 

Our passage from the Gospel of Luke presents Jesus preaching the Sermon on the Plain, where he addresses a multitude of people seeking healing and hope. This is similar to Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount as found in the Gospel of Matthew, where the well-known and beloved Beatitudes were preached. 

In this passage, Jesus not only brings physical and spiritual healing to those in need, but he also challenges societal norms and expectations. He turns our understanding of blessings and woes upside down, demonstrating that God's Kingdom is radically different from the kingdoms of this world. Jesus reveals that true blessedness is found in poverty of spirit, in hunger for righteousness, and in the pursuit of peace.

In the midst of this proclamation, Jesus warns the privileged, the rich, and the complacent about the consequences of their actions. He calls them to examine their hearts and to recognize the ways in which they have contributed to the brokenness of the world. By doing so, Jesus invites all of us, regardless of our social standing, to participate in the transformation of our communities and the establishment of God's Kingdom.

Because God’s kingdom will bring the great reversal. 

The poor will have the kingdom, and the rich will have only past memories. The hungry will be satisfied and the full will be hungry. Those who weep will laugh and those who laugh will mourn. The kingdom is the great reversal. But it’s more than just the blessings and woes were heard in this passage. 

We have more reversals according to the Gospels. The last will be first and the first will be last (Mark 10:31). Children will be the teachers of adults (Matt. 18:1-4). Servants and slaves will be the great ones (Mark 10:43-45). Tax collectors and harlots go into the kingdom ahead of recognized religious leaders (Matt. 21:31). Those who exalt themselves will be humbled and those who humble themselves will be exalted (Matt. 23:12) Not those who exercised power, but those who served the marginalized--the hungry, the thirsty, the strangers, the sick, the prisoners-will inherit the kingdom (Matt. 25:31-46).

This kingdom, far from being a distant dream, is a reality that we can actively participate in. It is a kingdom of justice, love, and peace, where God's will is done on earth as it is in heaven. When we pray, "Thy Kingdom Come," we are not simply requesting divine intervention, but acknowledging our role as co-creators with God. We are invited to join the work of justice, peace, and reconciliation. Just as Jesus proclaimed the good news, we too are called to share in the ministry of liberation and restoration.

When we pray for God's Kingdom to come, we are asking for the reign of love, justice, and compassion to be established in our hearts, our homes, our communities, and our world. We are called to challenge systems of injustice, to comfort the suffering, and to work tirelessly for equity and peace.

As part of our summer series on the Lord’s Prayer, we have installed new images in our art gallery. We have incorporated eight different images, each inspired by one of the eight lines from the Lord's Prayer. To create this gallery, we assigned eight individuals of varying ages a line from the prayer. They were then tasked with selecting a piece of art from any century that resonated with their assigned line. Accompanying each artwork is a brief paragraph explaining their choice and the inspiration behind it. I strongly encourage you to check this out, as you will feel connected to Christ through his prayer through images. 

I chose one of the images featured, and I chose a photo of the arrest of The Rev. James Lawson. You can see it here. 

In 1960, during the height of the Civil Rights Movement, Rev Lawson organized nonviolent sit-ins and protests in Nashville, Tennessee. Rev. Lawson's commitment to justice and equality eventually led to his arrest. In a famous photograph, we see him standing courageously, embodying the essence of God's Kingdom even in the face of opposition and persecution.

Rev. Lawson's story highlights the transformative power of actively living out the Lord's Prayer. It reminds us that the Kingdom of God is not a distant dream but a reality we can bring forth in our communities today. Just like Rev. Lawson and countless others who have fought for justice and equality, we are called to be agents of change and transformation in our world. The pursuit of this kingdom is a responsibility we all share.

Let us recognize the urgency of embodying God's Kingdom in our world today, just as Rev. James Lawson did in his time. We are called to challenge systems of injustice, to comfort the suffering, and to work tirelessly for equity and peace.

May we be inspired by the example of Jesus, who proclaimed the Kingdom of God and called us to repent and believe in the good news. Let us remember that the Kingdom of God is not a distant dream, but a present reality that we can actively participate in. Additionally, we cannot ignore the deep wounds of division and prejudice that continue to afflict our societies. We witness the pain and suffering of this world every day. In embodying God's Kingdom, we are called to actively work towards dismantling all structures of oppression and promoting inclusivity and equality for all.

Today and all days, we draw courage from the life and teachings of Jesus, who consistently challenged societal norms and stood in solidarity with the marginalized. He broke down barriers of race, gender, and social status, demonstrating that the Kingdom of God transcends human divisions. As followers of Christ, we are called to follow in his footsteps, speaking out against injustice, advocating for the rights of the oppressed, and fostering unity and reconciliation.

In our own lives, embodying God's Kingdom means striving to live with integrity and compassion. It involves extending love and forgiveness to those who have hurt us. It includes seeking reconciliation and healing in broken relationships. It means using our resources, time, and talents to uplift others, especially those who are in need.

Imagine a world where the Kingdom of God is fully realized, where justice flows like a stream, and where love reigns supreme. It is not an unrealistic dream, but a vision that can become a reality through our collective efforts. Each act of kindness, each act of justice, and each act of love brings us one step closer to the fulfillment of God's Kingdom on earth.

If anything, at its very foundation, the petition of 'Thy Kingdom Come' is the prayer, the belief, the hope, the call to action: that although God’s world is not as it should be, one day it will be.

It’s the faith that one day our world will be the Kingdom God intended it to be.

Thy Kingdom Come… 

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

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Attribution for above photo: 

Nonviolent Conflict, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=59714 [retrieved July 23, 2023]. Original source: https://www.flickr.com/photos/48520962@N03/4459867117.

Workers in the Harvest Field

 “Workers in the Harvest Field” was preached at First Presbyterian Church of Allentown, PA on June 25, 2023. You can hear/watch this sermon here, starting at 23:50.

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Scripture text:
Matthew 9:35-10:8

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Today, we gather to reflect upon Matthew 9:35-10:8. 

Up to this point in the Gospel, even with Jesus’ twelve disciples and his many followers including the women and children, Jesus’ ministry has relied on him to be the sole shepherd, missionary, teacher, preacher, and healer. But Jesus’ ministry has grown tremendously; his very presence has been so transformative in the lives of individuals and the community that endless crowds have gathered at his feet in hopes to hear his Word and receive his healing. Those who received his transformative grace knew that the great harvest God promised was now made ready in the presence of Jesus. 

But the endless crowds meant more and more people needed Jesus. They needed him to preach and teach and heal. The people of Israel were living under Roman occupation. They were a people who had been oppressed and marginalized for centuries, and they longed for liberation and justice. When Jesus came to proclaim the good news of the kingdom of God, a message of hope and liberation for all people, these people prayed that their lives would be changed. 

Our passage opens with Jesus looking at the endless crowds and realizing that despite his presence, despite all of his teaching and preaching and healing, despite all the lives that he transformed; the endless crowds were still harassed and helpless. 

Jesus, in his infinite wisdom as the Son of God and as God, saw that his work as the sole shepherd was not enough for the needs of the endless crowds. He couldn’t do this alone. 

The needs of the people were great. The reward – the harvest – was even greater. But the workers – the ones who brought the harvest to the people – were few. So what did Jesus do in his infinite wisdom? 

Jesus calls and commissions more workers! 

He starts with his own disciples… but they are not called disciples anymore. They are now the Apostles, or the sent ones. This is the only time in the Gospel of Matthew where the disciples are referred to as Apostles.

The Apostles, through the power of Jesus, now have the authority to heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse lepers, and cast out demons. Jesus is sending his newly commissioned apostles out to proclaim the good news of the kingdom of God and to heal the brokenness they encounter. 

I love that this radical act of liberation is just pure common sense. The needs are great. The harvest is greater. But the workers are few. So Jesus calls and commissions more workers to bring the great harvest to meet the needs of the people. 

But it’s not just anyone that Jesus commissions. It’s the twelve disciples. It’s twelve diverse young men from different walks of life, professions, and backgrounds. Each of them have different stories and gifts, but they have the right gifts to proclaim the good news and to heal those who are hurting. Remember, Jesus called each of the disciples by name – by name – to follow him. And now they are called by name go out and go forth. These are the right kind of workers sent by God to bring God’s harvest to God’s people. 

The Rev. Dr. Cleo LaRue, an excellent preacher and theologian and a former professor of mine at Princeton Theological Seminary, modernizes this metaphor. In a commentary on this passage, Dr. LaRue suggests this metaphor, “The game is winnable, but the really good players are few. Therefore, ask the coach to send more good players onto the field.” Or “The burning house is salvageable, but the able firefighters are few. Therefore ask the captain to send more qualified firefighters into the burning rubble.” 

First, when God calls any of us for us to do the work necessary, God is calling the right people for the right work. The athlete is not being sent into the burning building, the firefighter is not up here preaching on a regular basis, and this preacher is not winning any games in the Super Bowl anytime soon. 

But that also means that when God calls the right people to do the right work, there’s no denying that our gifts do not meet the work God is calling us to do. When God calls you, you are the right person. 

But I don’t think this passage needs any metaphors, not a harvest or a game or a burning building. 

If you are an active member of a church in the 21st century, then you know this verse in Matthew 9:37 to be all too true: “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few.”

God’s grace is plentiful, but the Apostles are few. 

Now it’s my turn to tell a parable. 

In Lehigh Valley, there was a church on the corner of Cedar Crest and Tilghman, although once upon a time this church was in downtown Allentown but that besides the point. One day, this church went out to the streets and saw the countless people walking around, lost and aimless. The church felt a deep compassion for them and knew that they wanted to do something to help.

The church decided to spread God’s message of hope and love to the people of the city. God asked a faithful group of the church to spread this message, and the reward would be great if they did: God’s Word would be spread.

The group eagerly agreed and set out to spread God’s message. They started by going to the hospitals and comforting the sick. Then, they went to the shelters and fed the hungry. They spoke words of hope to all who would listen! 

As the years went on, the church noticed that there were still many people in need of help. So God sent another faithful group of the church to join the first: their reward would also be great if they did: God’s Word would be spread. 

The second group started working alongside the first, spreading the message of hope and love throughout the city. They too went to the hospitals, homeless shelters, and those in need.

As the church came out of a devastating pandemic, the church saw there were still people in need; in fact, now more than ever. More people were sick. More people found themselves in poverty and experiencing homelessness. More people needed God’s liberating hope and love. So God sent another group of people, some of which came to this church because of the work of the first and second groups, to join the saints of the first and second groups.

The third group eagerly agreed and set out with the others to spread the message of hope and love. They worked hard, doing all they could to help those in need. They too knew the reward would be great: God’s Word would be spread.

When members of the first and second groups saw this third group join them, some saw it as an opportunity to stop the faithful work God called them to do all those years ago. After all, there was this new group sent by God now to do the same work that they have been sent to do all these years ago. And these people were churched enough to know this modern-day parable is inspired from the Parable of the Workers in the Vineyard, from Matthew 20, and they knew that no matter if they worked 50 years or 1 year, their reward from God would all be the same… so did it even matter if they stopped their work now and let the new generation take over? 

We are living in a time of declining church membership, and many people are turning away from organized religion. One of the laments I hear most often in my role is the lack of children and youth at our church. While we have a considerable amount of children and youth in our church, especially when comparing ourselves to the other presbyterian churches in the valley, these numbers are nothing compared to what they used to be at this church. And I get that; I really do. But while most of us are quick to lament the current numbers of our children & youth, I am lamenting the number of adults who want to work with our children & youth. 

While it might make logical sense that with less children & youth, this means that we need less adult support for our children & youth. But I know every single person in this room knows this is not how it works. When our numbers go down, now more than ever do we need more people serving. 

Replace children & youth with any other ministry in our church: mission, pledging, serving as elders & deacons, joining a bible study, and this message is still true. When our numbers go down, now more than ever do we need more people serving. 

The first group sent by God to spread God’s Word all those years ago is still just as necessary as the third group sent by God this year. And if the first or second group stops their work now because they see this third group now stepping up and serving, then they are doing nothing to meet the needs of the world today. And as we all know, those needs are greater than ever. 

The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few.  God’s grace is plentiful, but the Apostles are few. 

This is a challenge for us as a community. And! This is an opportunity for us to re-envision what it means to be a church today and the presence of First Presbyterian Church of Allentown in Lehigh Valley and in the world today.

Every single person in this room has been called by name by God to be an Apostle; to be a sent one. 

How do I know this? 

Because not only are you a member or a friend of First Presbyterian Church of Allentown… but because you are God’s. 

You have been claimed in the waters of baptism. You have been regularly invited back to this table. You listen and hear and receive God’s Word on the daily. You have been called beloved. You are still called beloved. 

Friends, you are called. 

If God can call shepherds, who were considered to be among the lowest of the low, to welcome the Christ-child, if God can call women, who at the time were to be seen and not heard, to preach the resurrection of Christ, if God can call a whole bunch of nobodies to be the first very first apostles; then you better believe that God can call you too.

And you are. 

The needs are great. The reward is greater. But the Apostles are few. 

But today we pray. We pray to the Lord of the Harvest to send more laborers into the harvest, to bring the harvest to those in need. 

And God must be answering our prayers today because here we are… and in just a few moments, we will be sent out into this world. We leave this place as Apostles. We will proclaim the good news of the kingdom of God, and we will heal the brokenness we might encounter. 

Listen to the Message translation of Jesus’ words to his disciples at the end of our passage today: “Go to the lost, confused people right here in the neighborhood. Tell them that the kingdom is here. Bring health to the sick. Raise the dead. Touch the untouchables. Kick out the demons. You have been treated generously, so live generously.”

That commission is now given to us.
It starts right here, with you and with me.
We are called. 

Amen. 

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Pencz, Georg. Christ Speaking With the Disciples, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=56411 [retrieved June 25, 2023]. Original source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Christ_Speaking_to_the_Disciples,_from_The_Story_of_Christ_MET_DP855491.jpg.

Where Are You Headed?

 “Where Are You Headed?” was preached at First Presbyterian Church of Allentown, PA on April 2, 2023. You can hear/watch this sermon here, starting at 46:00.

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Scripture Text:
Matthew 21:1-11

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I have a request for each of us today. I want us each to wave our palms during the sermon today. I’m serious. Don’t injure yourself, don’t put yourself out of breath, and don’t terrorize your neighbor. But wave your palm proudly high up in the air for as long as you can. I’m going to do it too. 

Let me tell you about Palm Sunday. Sorry to Christmas or Easter, but Palm Sunday is my personal favorite day of the church calendar. I love the fanfare of it. I love the palms and the way they call us to worship in a different way. I love the way it joyfully, powerfully, and humbly prepares ourselves for Holy Week and Easter Sunday. I love that the Palm Sunday scripture text is found in all four gospels and is still so relevant today. I love Palm Sunday!

But the number one reason I love Palm Sunday is because six years ago, I was ordained as a Minister of Word & Sacrament on Palm Sunday. It was the day that the very same church that told me I would be punished for being gay affirmed my call as an openly gay man leading the church. I call it my own Triumphal Entry into ministry. It was a beautiful day that I remember with great joy and gratitude. 

A year after being ordained, I was scheduled to preach on Palm Sunday. I remember being so excited to have the opportunity to preach on my ordination anniversary. I think I was going to use it to reflect on my first year of ordained ministry. But that week leading up to Palm Sunday was different. Five years ago, the week of Palm Sunday, youth and leaders organized the March for Our Lives protests across our country. That is because that year, on Ash Wednesday, 17 lives were lost at the Stoneman Douglas High School shooting in Florida. 

That year, Palm Sunday echoed Jesus’ own triumphal entry but instead of hearing, “Hosanna! Lord, save us!”, the crowds shouted, “Enough is enough! Save our kids!”

It is estimated up to 2 million participants marched in the March for our Lives protests that first year, making it still one of the largest nationwide protests our country has ever experienced. 

That number also echoes the original triumphal entry. 

It is estimated that around 2 million people gathered to welcome Jesus as he marched into Jerusalem. 

I imagined that it was on that day of all days of how incredible it was to be a disciple of Jesus. Jesus is riding a donkey and a colt into Jerusalem, and as he does, he is surrounded by large crowds the entire way, with seemingly no end to their numbers nor their shouts. It was a roar; joyful praise and adoration! People throwing down their cloaks; waving branches high in the air; this was the BEST day!

Think of what happened, just a few moments ago, the praise we sang and the joy we felt as we waved our palm branches during our opening song. How cool is it that we get to do that in church?! To sing and celebrate the coming of our Lord? That’s the joy millions felt as Jesus rode that donkey and colt into Jerusalem. The world bowed at his feet, threw cloaks on his path, and sang of his greatness. 

The disciples got to be a part of that as the inner circle, his closest friends and followers. They got to experience this pure joy; they too were heroes! I’m sure they loved it! 

And can we blame them? Who wouldn’t want to be associated with Jesus on that day? This is the Lord of all; and they got to march with him! We still get to march with him and for him, and as Christians, we gladly do so! 

Are we still feeling that joy as we wave our palms now?

This is the best day. This is Jesus in a moment of power and status, praise and triumph—this day of all days, I am with Jesus, just like the disciples gladly were.

But do we understand what the first march stood for? 

Jerusalem was a Jewish city, but it was still under Roman rule. Every year, around the Passover, the Emperor would parade through Jerusalem, where all of the Jews lived. The Emperor would march through Jerusalem with all of his soldiers, weapons, and prisoners just to remind the Jews that he was their ruler, even greater than their God. 

Jesus’ march, simultaneously happening as the Emperor’s march, was a direct threat to the Roman empire. The Emperor’s march carried the threat of death if you disobeyed, Jesus’ march was an invitation to life if you dared to follow. 

The people were given a choice. They could be complacent in a broken system that welcomes death. Or they could rebel and protest a broken system, which might lead to their own death, but bring new life onto others. 

What happened that week after Jesus’ march in Jerusalem?

The disciples will soon leave Jesus. They eventually gather together one last time to share in the Passover meal. You know the story. Jesus takes a loaf of bread, blesses it, and breaks it. He then takes a cup, blesses it, and pours it. Both shall be done in remembrance of him. And all the disciples participate; it’s the last time before Jesus’ death that they are truly all together; that they are with him.

The moment Jesus goes out into the Garden of Gethsemane, his disciples will soon scatter. They all leave him as he is arrested, tried, tortured, and then crucified. The disciples, the very same people who were with Jesus as millions welcomed him into the city, became swallowed by a broken system. It was easier to accept the way things were in the broken system rather than accept the invitation into creating a new, better system. 

And friends, as much I would like to question what the disciples were thinking, I can’t. I don’t get to question why they left. because I’ve left Jesus behind too. And maybe, whether intentionally or not, you have too.

A few years ago talking to a friend about how often Presbyterians celebrate the Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper. Her, being a faithful Catholic, was appalled when I told her that it’s about once a month. Her jaw actually dropped when I told her our polity, as found in the Book of Order, only requires a minimum of once a quarter. Catholics requires the Sacrament of Lord’s Supper to be celebrated every week at the first least: that’s 52 weeks a year. Presbyterians require a minimum of once a quarter; that’s 4 weeks a year. So First Pres, we’re at least beating the minimum; good for us! My friend, in her state of shock, then asked why we only celebrate it once a month.

And I slipped up and said the words that sent her into a tailspin. When she asked why we only celebrate it once a month; I said, “I guess we only celebrate it when it’s convenient for us.”

And although I didn’t actually mean it the way that I said it or the way it came across, my friend started a truthful and just rant. I’m going to save you all from that full conversation, but I will share a powerful line. In her rant, she said, “Where in the Bible does Jesus say, ‘Take up your cross and follow me when it’s convenient for you.’”

Heh. She’s right.

Friends, the disciples gladly were with Jesus during the Triumphal Entry. They didn’t question anything; they didn’t turn their backs. They gladly walked alongside him as people joyfully cheered and bowed and everything was easy and fun and exciting. But the moment it wasn’t easy and fun and exciting; they left. And at times, so do we.

How is the Palm Waving? Are we still doing okay?

When I was in seminary, for two summers, I worked at a Christian outdoors camp in North Dakota. That camp – Camp Metigoshe – would host a Christ-hike every Wednesday for the campers on site that week. It was a passion play that showed the life of Jesus, from his baptism in the Jordan to his death on the cross and eventual resurrection. A few of the counselors and staff would play the role of Jesus as well as other characters including John the Baptist, some of Jesus’ disciples, the Samaritan Woman, the blind man, Pontius Pilate, etc. If we were a counselor without a part in the Christ-hike, we still had two lines. 

During the scene of the Triumphal Entry, as Jesus marched into Jerusalem, counselors and staff were supposed to initiate the cries, “Hosanna! Lord, save us!” and invite the campers to do the same. 

Our second line came a few scenes later. After Jesus’ last supper, after praying in the garden, after his betrayal and arrest; Jesus comes before Pontius Pilate on trial. During the scene, Pilate asks the crowds what we should do with Jesus. This time, the counselors and staff were supposed to initiate the answer until others joined us. When Pilate asked us what we should do with Jesus, we shouted, “Crucify him!”

To this day, I still believe this juxtaposition of lines is an accurate representation of what it looks like for us to follow Jesus. On our faithful days, we shout, “Hosanna! Lord, save us!” On our days we feel too inconvenienced, we unintentionally shout, “Crucify him!” 

This week, like all the other many weeks our country experiences a school shooting, is a holy week invitation to see just how far we are willing to stay with Jesus. Will we continue to shout “Hosanna! Lord, Save Us!” or will we give in and become complacent in a broken system as we shout, “Crucify him!”?

“I need my guns.” Crucify him!

“We should ban drag queens and books.” Crucify him!

“I have no power to make a difference.” Crucify him!

Crucify him! Crucify him! Crucify him! 

I can see why the crowds and disciples left Jesus. It was all too easy to fall victim to a system that made them feel powerless. 

But when Jesus defeated death upon the cross, the disciples found their power once more. And they marched and they protested and they preached, and soon the broken system broke and the invitation to life and new life was spread.  

I believe in this power today. Because I will tell you this is not a partisan issue. It does not matter if you are a republican or a democrat or neither. The republican parent and the democrat parent wants just as badly for their child to come home safely as the other. And I don’t think a single person in this room disagrees with me on that. Our children’s lives are and always will be our priority. Right there, we have found the common ground to have a conversation that invites others into relationship, and together we have the power break the broken system. 

And it will be hard. It will be hard to have patience with each other. It will be hard to figure out the right solution. It will be hard to stand your ground when others might challenge you. But it will be even more hard to hear another Palm Sunday sermon five years from now following even more school shootings and even more lives lost. 

Like waving our palms, being a Christian is sometimes tiring and painful. It is easy and joyful when it’s convenient for us. When our lives are filled with blessings, you better believe all of us are singing our loudest praises for God. But being a Christian also means following Christ beyond the Triumphant Entry and into the shadow of Gethsemane and the horror of calvary. Being a Christian means taking up the cross at all times, not just when it’s convenient to us. Being a disciple of Christ means we still wave our palms and still shout “Save us!” when life is exhausting and painful and hard. 

Five years ago I heard the best Palm Sunday sermon to this day. Probably one of the best sermons I’ve ever heard. But it wasn’t mine. It wasn’t even a clergy’s. 

It was the youth marching in the streets shouting, “Enough is enough! Save our kids!”

Hosanna. Lord, save us. Hosanna. Lord, save us. 

Are you still waving your palms? At this point, it probably has become hard and difficult and perhaps even painful. But that is the requirement of us as Christians: to follow Christ even when it’s hard. That is how we heal a broken system. 

This is the Word of the Lord. Thanks be to God. Amen.

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Will You Give Me a Drink?

 “Will You Give Me a Drink?” was preached at First Presbyterian Church of Allentown, PA on March 12, 2023. You can hear/watch this sermon here, starting at 47:42.

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Scripture Text:
John 4:1-42

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This Lent we are Seeking. We are asking questions.

Last Sunday, we were introduced to Nicodemus who approached Jesus in the middle of the night to ask a big faith question, as found in the Gospel of John chapter three. This Sunday, we have Jesus approaching a new character, the Samaritan Woman at the Well, at noon day, as found in John 4 as we heard today. While the interactions carry some parallels, the differences are even more striking.

Nicodemus is a Pharisee, an insider, a leader of the Jews. He is a man, he has a name, but he comes to Jesus by night. The character to whom we are introduced in this week’s text is a Samaritan, a religious and political outsider. She is a woman, she has no name, but she meets Jesus at noon, in full daylight.

Nicodemus’ questions directed toward Jesus turn into Jesus giving Nicodemus a religious lecture that roughly has been recorded into 21 verses of scripture while the woman’s questions of Jesus turn into a theological conversation between the two that lasts 42 verses. In fact, it’s the longest recorded conversation Jesus has with anyone is all the four gospels.

With Nicodemus, Jesus tells him that Jesus is the Son sent by God, but with the Samaritan Woman, Jesus tells her that he is God.

And even Nicodemus last question to Jesus is demanding more answers of him, “How can these things be?” while the woman’s final question is a rhetorical revelation to the community, “He cannot be the Messiah, can he?”

But the best parallel between the two stories, in my opinion, is the example that John 4 is of something Jesus says in John 3.

In John 3, when lecturing Nicodemus, Jesus says the beloved line that so many of us still know today.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.”

For God so loved the world…

The entire world.

Not just the Jewish people but the world. And to prove it, especially to his disciples that are traveling with him, Jesus challenges the very notion of who he came to save.

Our text opened with Jesus leaving Judea, where he just had the conversation with Nicodemus, and heading back to Galilee. Verse 4 says that Jesus had to go through Samaria.

But the truth is, most of the Jewish people, when traveling from Judea to Galilee, would have taken a longer safer route across the Jordan to avoid Samaria with whose residents they have deep-seated animosity.

But Jesus tells the disciples they have to go through Samaria. The disciples among others need to fully see and witness and experience and even be a part of the world that Jesus came to save. Samaria is an example of the world.

But more than just the disciples needing to see an example of the world, Jesus needed to find this woman. Jesus needed to find this woman.

How can we be so sure? Because it was Jesus who first spoke to her. Which is unlike Nicodemus who needed to find Jesus and first spoke to him.

Jesus begins by telling the woman to give him a drink and it opens the door to a beautiful theological conversation. Can you imagine that? Deep, profound, complex, complicated, rich, challenging, inclusive theology from the simple request for water.

Last Sunday we asked our worshippers in our 8:45 a.m. service to write down a question for Jesus. If we were like Nicodemus and were able to ask Jesus a private question in the middle of the night, just the two of them, what would it be? Most of those questions were the deep, honest questions many of us would ask. There were questions on sin, suffering, trials, temptations, salvation, and identity. But there was one question that one of our worshippers wrote that really stood out to me, because it was so different. And it was question that I think Jesus would answer.

The question that this person would ask Jesus in the middle of the night, just the two of them, is… “Jesus… what is your favorite color?”

Now, I’m going to test you real quick, raise your hand if you can answer the question, “Why did God let sin into the world?”

Now raise your hand if you can answer the question, “What is your favorite color?”

I can talk with any of you about your favorite color. It doesn’t matter our age, gender, skin color, political affiliation, background, or story. I can talk with just about anyone in Lehigh Valley about their favorite color. No matter their education, socio-economic class, or religion. In fact, this is a pretty good universal question that could be asked of anyone around the world: “What is your favorite color?”

Similarly, so is asking for a drink of water.

As the conversation between Jesus and the Samaritan woman begins, Jesus brings himself as an equal to the woman. He is a dehydrated human in need of water. It does not matter that Jesus is a man or a Jew. He is thirsty. And most likely, so is the Samaritan woman, as she is at the well drawing water for herself.

The two find common ground. Both of them are thirsty. It starts with water, a basic necessity of life. Jesus needed to go to Samaria. Now he needs water. And finally, he needs this woman. And she needs him too.

Jesus needs water to drink, and the woman needs living water. But Karoline M. Lewis, in her book Belonging, writes it’s more just needing water or living water.

She writes: “Jesus needs [the Samaritan woman] to be a witness, and she needs Jesus to invite her into this new identity.”

This mutual need is what it means to belong to a community.

This mutual need is also what moves the Samaritan Woman into the revelation of who Jesus is.

Remember the conversation between the two.

The Samaritan Woman sees Jesus first as a man and Jew. As the two continue to talk, she then sees him as a prophet. Eventually he moves into recognizing him as the Messiah.

But he is more than the Messiah.

Jesus is the “I AM!” Jesus invokes the name of God to show that not only is he the Son of God but he is God.

And help us all remember? When does God refer to Godself as “I AM!”?

Exodus 3. God, when speaking to Moses through the burning bush, refers to Godself as the “I AM!”.

But Moses said to God, “If I come to the Israelites and say to them, ‘The God of your ancestors has sent me to you,’ and they ask me, ‘What is God’s name?’ what shall I say to them?” God said to Moses, “I am who I am.” God said further, “Thus you shall say to the Israelites, ‘I am has sent me to you.’ ” God also said to Moses, “Thus you shall say to the Israelites, ‘The Lord, the God of your ancestors, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, has sent me to you’: This is my name forever, and this my title for all generations.”

By the way, Jesus and the Samaritan Well are at the Well of Jacob. This story about God and Moses is about both of their ancestors as Jews and Samaritans.

When God declared Godself as the “I AM!” to Moses, an entire nation is set free. The Israelites are saved from slavery. They are directed to leave behind Egypt. They are promised a land flowing of milk and honey. God is their provider, and God is with them as they leave behind what they know and as they are delivered into salvation.

So too is it with the Samaritans.

Jesus declares himself as the “I AM!” to the Samaritan woman, the first of many times Jesus declares himself as the “I AM!” in the Gospel of John.

“I am the bread of life.” “I am the light of the world.”” I am the gate.” “I am the good shepherd.” “I am the resurrection.” “I am the way, the truth, the life.” “I am the true vine.”

Jesus declares, “I am the Messiah” to the Samaritan woman, an entire world is set free. They are saved from their sin. They are directed to leave what they think they know behind. You heard even the woman left her jar of water behind when she went back to her town as Jesus’ witness. They are promised salvation. Jesus is the provider of living water, and Jesus – Emmanuel: God with us – is with them.

The Samaritan Woman’s testimony to her people cause the Samaritans to believe Jesus is also for them, in fact, they declare him as the Savior of the World.

Jesus said he came to save the world, and the Samaritans see this.  

In the Gospel of John, it’s the only time Jesus is called Savior.

And it’s interesting, because the Samaritans don’t need the cross or the crucifixion or even the resurrection to recognize this.

For the Samaritans, their salvation is not found in the events that happen during Good Friday or Easter Sunday. Their salvation is found in the invitation to be in relationship with God through Jesus. Their salvation is found in the humble request for water.  

Here, salvation means to belong. To belong to God. To belong to a community. All of this in found in Jesus.

I wonder if any of us would be so quick to rise to conflict or to leave if we truly believed that our salvation is tied to belonging to this community we call our church home.

In my first sermon to this community, I preached on the Parable of the Lost Sheep. That parable teaches us God would do anything and everything to restore the lost sheep back into the flock, no matter that cost. And the moment we met each other, we took a selfie together and I shared that I believe that when anyone leaves a community, we should say this to them: “We are less without you. We are not complete without you. You are a valued, gifted, much needed part of our community.”

I was speaking those words to each of you. And in turn, you were also speaking it back to me.

I need you. I belong to you. And you belong to me. And all of us belong to God. That is salvation.

And it starts with a request for water. Or even more simply, it starts by finding common ground.

Think about Jesus asking this woman for a drink. It was a risk. It was a risk for the Son of God and Godself to be so openly human in this moment. And yet, it is this question – and Jesus’ willingness – that leads to this woman’s transformation, to an entire community’s transformation. Jesus risks everything by speaking with the Samaritan woman, crossing cultural, religious, and social lines, demonstrates his willingness to be vulnerable. When he asks for what he needs, he shows that even Jesus cannot make it alone.

It is the same for the Samaritan Woman. Despite a long list of good reasons why she shouldn’t be vulnerable to anyone, she boldly asks Jesus for living water. And she did so trusting he would give it to her.

Jesus needed the Samaritan woman. The Samaritan woman needed him. They belonged to each other in that moment. That is salvation.

I think the challenge this Lent for each of us is NOT to just be the one to answer the question, “Will you give me a drink?”

It’s to be the one who asks it.

As for Jesus’ favorite color, although I can’t say this for certain, I think it’s the rainbow.

Thanks to be God for God’s Word this day. Amen.

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Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones but Words Kill

 “Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones but Words Kill” was preached at First Presbyterian Church of Allentown, PA on February 12, 2023. You can hear/watch this sermon here, starting at 35:26.

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Scripture Text:
Matthew 5:21-26; 1 Corinthians 3:1-9

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Today in Jesus continues his Sermon on the Mount in our Gospel reading for today. 

In this sermon, Jesus starting by sharing with his followers the Beatitudes, or all the ways in which the people are blessed. He continued by telling them that they are the salt of the earth and light of the world, roles that they must commit to in order for the world and the very community the disciples are part of to be a better place. And he ends with what is now referred to as the Antitheses. 

In his same sermon that talks of blessings and community, Jesus also teaches the disciples on several topics that uphold the Law, which Jesus also held in the highest regard. The Sermon on the Mount continues with several teachings: on murder and judgment, adultery, divorce, and vow-making. While we just read from the section on murder and judgement today, we are to understand that in each of these teachings, Jesus is saying to commit any of these infractions: murder or adultery, you sever the trust within a community. He is encouraging his followers to uphold this trust by intentionally upholding the laws given to them as God’s chosen people to their highest standard.

The passage begins with the most outrageous example of severed trust: the ending of another human’s life with murder. By starting with an example at which most members of his audience would not likely take offense, Jesus paves the way for his audience to follow him through a progression of increasingly smaller infractions against others within one’s community. 

In other words, Jesus’ rhetorical technique here is to create agreement with his audience on the easiest points first before moving to those points where it is less likely that there will be widespread agreement.

In each example that Jesus provides, Jesus notes the minimal requirement of the law before articulating an ethic that exceeds that most basic obligation. In each case, this ethic appears to be informed by the values of trust and compassion within community.

As we heard today, Jesus tells us “You shall not murder,” which reminds us and Jesus’ Jewish followers on the mount of the ten commandments. I believe that all of us, like the majority of Jesus original followers, hear Jesus’ words of “You shall not murder” and wholeheartedly agree that our community is so much better without murder in it. 

But that’s the minimal requirement of us. 

Jesus says murder violates trust and compassion within a community, to which we all agree, but when we agree, Jesus pushes the teaching to a deeper, more complex level. 

Jesus boldly states, “But I say to you…” Anger. Judgement. Name-calling. Gossip. All of that is equal to murder. 

Anger. Judgement. Name-calling, and Gossip also violate trust and compassion within a community. Do we still agree? I bet we do. But do we agree that name-calling is the same as murder? I bet we struggle a bit with that teaching. 

Especially if we are fully honest about our own moments of anger, judgement, name-calling, or gossip. We don’t need a show of hands to reveal most of us would be found guilty of at least one of those four at times throughout our lives, or perhaps even just in this last year. I am. I admit I have been guilty of anger and its consequences. 

You know the short children’s rhyme, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” We teach it to children as a defense against name-calling and bullying. 

Well Jesus, in his sermon on the mount, would say “Sticks and stones may break your bones… ‘But I say to you’ words kill.”

“But I say to you!” Words kill.

When Jesus is preaching his sermon on his mount, he is asking his disciples to recall and reinvest in their community through their ancient, trustworthy laws and traditions. He is asking them to remember their faith in God, their values in life, and their vision as a community. 

And when he does, he is asking them to follow something they already value, such as the ten commandments, or the Law. He is not replacing any of their values, but rather, Jesus is emphasizing them. He is intensifying them. He is expecting his followers to be better than the bare minimum.

“You’re familiar with the command to the ancients, ‘Do not murder.’”? 

Yes! We don’t murder! We don’t kill! We’ve never ended another’s life! 

“But I say to you… The simple moral fact is that words kill.” 

Oh… well I may have called my sibling stupid… and well I did call neighbor an idiot… oh, I also called that person evil because I disagreed with them. You’re saying I can’t do that anymore? Oh boy… 

Jesus is expecting his followers to be better than the bare minimum because he knows we can better. The community Jesus calls us to be is better than the bare minimum. Wouldn’t you agree that is true about First Presbyterian? We are better than the bare minimum. Would you even join a community that only does the bare minimum? I mean, I want to surround myself with like-minded people of faith who are also trying to better their lives and the world we are a part of. It’s why I accepted this call in the first-place, because our community values our community and the people in and around it. 

Jesus is always challenging us to dig deeper into our call to righteousness, to align our lives with divine values, and to commit ourselves to the transformative power of God’s law and commandments.

So here, Jesus teaches, it is insufficient to avoid murdering someone. Certain kinds of anger and insult are a bad enough form of violence. If any of us commit this infraction, we collectively have broken the Law. And when God’s law is broken, God calls for reconciliation.

Jesus’ sermon continues by saying reconciliation is a prerequisite before we even come to church and honor God in worship. Broken relationships within a community are not just social obstacles among us but also hurt our relationship with God. So if any of us have committed murder to one’s Spirit with our hurtful words, we must repair that relationship first before we try to continue our relationship with God. Hear that again. It’s that important. We must repair any broken relationship firsts before we try to continue our relationship with God.

The command give to us “not to murder” extends even beyond the taking of life. It is also the command to reject the deterioration of someone’s character. Jesus’ words tell us that name-calling or insulting holds the same abusive power as murder. And with this in mind, what is the opposite of murder? If Jesus tells us to “Do Not Murder” and that “Words Kills”, what must we do as the opposite to not only follow the law but to embrace it? 

If hurting someone’s spirit through insults or gossip is equivalent to murder, raising someone up through genuine affirmations and support is equivalent to life-giving. 

There is love, compassion, and trust within a community when the relationships are life-giving.

And communities will be divided and fall apart when the relationships within them are not. 

Local church division is a recurring theme in the Corinthian correspondence. The Corinthian believers were splitting into factions along the lines of their favorite leaders or preachers. Specifically, the Corinthians tried to place Apollos and Paul in competition with one another, giving preference to their styles of teaching or display of human wisdom.

In opposition to this, Paul corrects their misplaced loyalties for himself and Apollos by reminding them they were both mere servants of the Lord fulfilling their call. Nothing marked either Paul or Apollos as extra special for who they were or what they did. Paul goes on to explain this succinctly by employing a farming metaphor: “I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth”

With this agricultural insight, Paul diffuses all talk of giving greater prominence to any of the Lord’s servants. Since neither planting nor watering on its own could bring forth fruit, it follows that Paul or Apollos’ continued preaching or teaching is of greater value than the either. Instead, since ultimately God is the one who produces the growth, God is the only one worthy of all admiration, glory, and praise.

And to criticize one leader over another simply only stunts the growth of the individual, because it hurts the relationship between the individual and that leader, therefore it hurts the relationship between the community and God. 

Alternatively, Paul gives the Corinthian church a vision for how leadership should work together in the cultivation of God’s field. As co-laborers, both “the one who plants and the one who waters” participate in the common task of building up God’s church. Instead of quarreling over who is the better leader or who preaches better, Paul invites us to rethink the nature of church ministry as a collaborative effort by all those who are called to be God’s servants. This is the beauty of the farming motif closely followed by Paul in this passage: laboring in the church is a group effort and, in the end, God gets all the credit. But we get all the reward.

Let us reap the reward of our community by emphasizing the very relationships we are gifted within this community. Every leader, every member. Our life-giving relationships draw us nearer to the God we worship.   

In our community, what obligations are Jesus’ sermon calling us to embrace? 

In short, Jesus centers the construction of a particular kind of community, one organized around love and not power. It is also a community that values trust and the deep commitments God’s children make to one another. 

In the end, why did God give us the commandments and why did Jesus intensify them? They are not a checklist of morality but rather a guide to flourishing in life. They are not a baseline to human decency but rather instructions to embodied, relational, transformative encounters with all whom we meet. They are not hurdles to righteousness but rather a path of wholeness for all of us. These are the values for God’s community, and these are the values of our community. 

Sticks and stones may break our bones… or COVID and transitions may tear us down to death, but words and our relationships with one another bring us up; they give us life. And in this Christian community, we know: life always triumphs over death. 

Thanks be to God. Amen. 

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James, Laura. Sermon on the Mount, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=57891 [retrieved February 13, 2023]. Original source: Laura James, https://www.laurajamesart.com/collections/religious/.

Be the Light

 “Be the Light” was preached at First Presbyterian Church of Allentown, PA on January 8, 2023. You can hear/watch this sermon here, starting at 36:34.

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Scripture Text:
Matthew 2:1-12, Matthew 3:13-17

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Today in worship, we celebrate Epiphany, a day for revelation and direction. We celebrate this day to commemorate the Magis’ visit to Jesus by following the star. When they arrived on the scene with Mary and Joseph and that child in their arms, the Magi make an epiphany of who is before them. With great joy, they recognize this child as the King of the Jews, the ruler that had been promised to them. Today we celebrate that revelation; that moment of divine introduction of Christ to the World. 

Today we also celebrate the Baptism of the Lord. With the story of John the Baptism baptizing Jesus in the Jordan River, we remember our own baptisms. We remember the claim that God has over each of us with a seal of ultimate love and grace. We get to witness this sign and seal as we celebrate the Sacrament of Holy Baptism. Today we celebrate new life in Christ. 

And today is one of the first Sundays in 2023. This is the New Year! Today is a day of revelation, direction, newness, celebration – all the good things! Happy New Year, my friends. Today is a good day. 

The word “Epiphany” means “showing” or “shining forth” – which is fitting because on Christmas we celebrated the light of the world being born. Today we recognize that divine light shining forth from the Christ Child. This is the light of all life. It is the Light in which all things come to be and find their purpose. It is the Light at the heart of everything, the heart of me and the heart of you. And as scripture reminds us, “The Light shines in the darkness and the darkness did not overcome it.” 

The Magi came to study this Light, although at first, they did not know this Light was human, let alone a child. 

But first I need to correct something. The New Revised Standard Version translation of Scripture is the translation I use most. It’s the translation we just heard for Matthew 2 & 3; it’s the translation we use in our pew Bibles. The New Revised Standard Version is accessible for people of all ages, accurate to the original text, and inclusive for most people in the modern world. However, the NRSV translation of Matthew chapter 2, uses an inaccurate translation of the Magi, because today you heard “wise men”. The new updated version of the New Revised Standard Version replaces “wise men” with “Magi” but we don’t have the updated version. 

Here's why this is important. 

The Greek words used, Magoi and Magous, translates to Magi, an indefinite number of astrological-priests. While I’m sure they were wise, I don’t think this is their best descriptor because it’s not precise enough about their identity in the story. And although I like the hymn we will sing in later in this service, the Magi were also not kings nor any high political leaders. These identities miss the mark of the identity of the Magi, so I, and maybe you too, need to know the Magi as Magi, as magicians, as sorcerers, as astronomers. This is who they were.

The Magi were priests who studied the light and stars, but not for the sake of science, but for the sake of prophecy. The Magi studied the stars to interpret the present and to forecast the future. They were ancient horoscope writers. And although actual Kings, such as Herod, occasionally utilized their services—their predictions of what is and what is to come—they weren’t exactly seen in the highest regard, especially in the eyes of a Jewish audience, in which the Gospel of Matthew was written.

But this isn’t too surprising; that they wouldn’t be seen in the highest regard. Jesus, who would one day spend most of his ministry hanging out with tax collectors and prostitutes, was known to spend his time with what was considered the wrong sort of people. And it starts here, at his young age, God choosing to fill important, essential role with the wrong sort of people. It was to the Magi, through a moment of great joy that Christ was revealed as the Son of God and as God incarnate, the Word made flesh. And then through this revelation, the identity of Christ is not revealed only to the Magi, but to all for the first time; the Jews and the Gentiles. Which is why we still celebrate Epiphany today.

See, the reason it’s important to note that the Magi were astronomers and magicians is because they discovered Jesus for the first time by doing what they do. It was God who first came to them. They were practicing magic and studying the stars. Jesus was made known to them when his star rose into the sky, a star that led the Magi to him, a star that was created and guided by God.

By doing what they do—by studying the stars, God made the Christ-child known to them. And when God did this, the Magi could now choose how they would respond. They could now continue to study the stars near their homes or they could follow that rising star to Jesus. The miracle here is they chose to leave what they were doing to follow that star.

Of course, it was also King Herod, after the Magi respond to the rising star, who sends them to Bethlehem, saying that when they find the child, they must return to him with the child’s location. But then it happens again, when the star stops overhead of Christ, after they see the child and are overwhelmed with joy, after they present Jesus with gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh; God comes to the Magi again. This time, through a dream, the Magi are warned not to return to the king that sent them. Once again, they had options of how they could respond; they could return to the king that had sent them, probably with the guarantee of rewards and riches, or they could return to their homes by another road. The miracle here is the Magi chose to disobey the king and instead they returned to their homes, changed for good by the Light found in the Christ Child.

God reveals Godself to the Magi; twice, once in the rising of a star and once in a dream; and both times the Magi respond with faithfulness to do the right thing.

And I think that each time the Magi chose to act with faith, they did so despite their fear; their fear of leaving their homes and their fear of disobeying the king. 

We can relate to that. It’s always a beautiful thing for Epiphany to occur about the start of the New Year. Perhaps for some it’s a time where we turn our own revelations into resolutions for this upcoming year. To do this, many take the New Year as a time to reflect on all that occurred over the past year. 

One of my reflections that I had, not only as clergy but as a disciple of Christ, was the fear that I carried with me nearly every single week. Fear with what happened the in the week prior, fear of what might happen next, even the fear of what to say to those who were hurting. Perhaps you at one point over this past year have carried this fear as well. Perhaps you carry it now.

I saw a post on social media earlier this week; it was life advice from a group of 90 year olds that they would give to their 32 year old selves. It included things like dance until your feet are sore, travel more; laugh loudly, smile and say good morning, spread love, etc etc. 

One of the pieces of advice said, “Don’t fear sadness, as it tends to sit right next to love.” 

And maybe that is why I’ve carried fear with me every week, as I also carry so much love. As I know all of you too. I know where your fear comes from, even if any of us don’t always like to admit that we are afraid. 

There is so much love in this community; love for each other, love for the world, and love for God. So much love in fact that fear can only come naturally with it. 

So how will we approach our fear this year? Fear and whatever else we may be feeling or experiencing. 

There’s a pretty well-known Epiphany discipline that many churches practice including our own. It’s called “Star Words.” As part of the worship service, each person is given a star with a single word written on it. They then use this word to navigate the new year, to serve as a tool for discernment and prayer, to guide them closer to Christ.  

These Words “shine forth” as a guide to the Light that is Christ. 

Think about it. The Magi were doing what they do, living their lives, when one night, they saw something different—a star that shone so brightly, they were compelled to follow it. 

Just as the Christmas star once shined for all people to see, the light of Christ still shines for all people. For us, we can see this Light even in a Word the Spirit chooses for us. 

May we use these star words as reminders of the Christmas star we invite into our lives so that we might be led toward Jesus Christ.

Whatever Star Word is chosen for you, embrace it. Don’t linger too much on your initial reaction, good or bad. Don’t expect to be instantly changed. Don’t ask for a different word. Sit with whatever you are given. And believe God wants to have that word, whatever it may be, as your guide this year. 

Amanda Gorman, our nation’s first ever youth poet laureate, in her poem The Hill We Climb, concludes with these words: 

     “When day comes we step out of the shade,
     aflame and unafraid
     The new dawn blooms as we free it
     For there is always light,
     if only we’re brave enough to see it
     If only we’re brave enough to be it.”

Be a light! Use your Word to be more Christ-like. Walk like Jesus this year. Be a light for yourself and others. 

Jesus himself used his light to make this world a better place. And that is what we will do. Jesus spent his entire life surrounding himself with the “wrong” sort of people – the Magi, tax collectors, prostitutes – the “sinners” – and yet with every person Jesus encountered, he offered forgiveness and he extended mercy. He sought out a ministry in which he served those who were considered “the least of these,” or those on the margins of society: the poor, the hungry, the sick, and the blind. He would look at them and remember them for who they are: children of God. Christ lifted up their light, so it could shine forth and be brighter for others. Today we are called to shine forth our lights and be a light of Christ in this world. We are called to go out and spread this light of Christ with everyone we encounter; there is enough grace to share. 

Be who God made you to be this year. Live honestly and authentically. But let the Christ light shine forth through you. Make the light of Christ brighter by doing what you do. Somewhere along the way, you might just find yourself heading down a different road, changed and transformed, sharing the light of Christ with those who also need it.  

The Magi modeled themselves after the same Christ-child they went to visit. They took his light and made it brighter. They were Christ-like in their courage. And I trust that is how God will lead me and how God will lead you—lead all of us—into 2023. That’s our revelation; this is our Epiphany.

God will reveal Godself to us. Perhaps as a star or in a dream, perhaps through movements or stories made known, or perhaps here in this church or as we go out in the community, God is present and God is doing something. God is revealing Godself. And you are there in the midst of it, and God is giving you the opportunity to do something. 

Consider the areas of darkness in your own life or in the lives of others, the areas of fear. And then look for that revelation of Christ. A star of light arises; go forth, my friends, and follow. Be transformed. Shine forth. Be a light. Blaze a trail. 

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Thanks be to God. Amen.

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Tell of the Hope within You

 “Tell of the Hope within You” was preached at First Presbyterian Church of Allentown, PA on December 18, 2022. You can hear/watch this sermon here, starting at 52:20.

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Scripture Text:
Jeremiah 32:6-15; Isaiah 9:2, 6-7; 1 Peter 3:15

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A week ago I was at a funeral of a friend’s grandfather, there to support my friend and his family as they grieved the death and celebrated the life of their loved one. I sat next to a family that I know, a young mother and father and their two children, who were there to support their friend and family just as I was.

As part of the service, the priest read Matthew 25:31-46. You know this text. I just preached on it just over a month ago. The Parable of the Sheep and the Goats.

As the priest read the Parable, he read it in its entirety, just like we did just a few weeks ago. But there was a part of the parable the made the woman next to me gasp and grab her husband. Verse 41:

“Then the ruler will say to those at his left hand, ‘You who are accursed, depart from me into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels…”

The moment she heard these words, the young mother let out an unintentional “Oh God…”

Now I know this family enough to know that they are not religious. Although always kind and supportive of me and my calling, they are not Christians. And I could tell she was uncomfortable with these words. Even more than just uncomfortable. She was disgusted with these words. Her body language radiated disdain. And the fact she kept glancing at her children means she was most likely worried about what they just heard; what they would now believe.

And I don’t blame her. They are harsh words found within a parable that can make any of us uncomfortable, especially to someone who is not a Christian.

All I wanted to do was whisper something to this family. But I was at a loss for words; I’m still not fully certain what I would have or even could have said. All I know is I wanted to extend words of comfort to the family who was unfamiliar with the words of scripture that caught them off-guard and made them anxious in their seats.

I could have given them my business card or even directed them to my sermon from a month ago, although that might have insulted them even more. I could tell they didn’t need or want explanation or doctrine or understanding of the words they just heard. They wanted to hear words of hope.

As disciples of Christ, we carry with us the ultimate gift and responsibility. We carry hope.

But why do we carry hope? What would you say to a person, especially a stranger, who is outside of the belief of Christianity?

The writer of 1 Peter, as we heard today, says, “Always be ready to make your defense to anyone who demands from you an accounting for the hope that is in you” (1 Peter 3:15).

Always be ready…

What would you say? What would you do? How would you tell of the hope within you?

We read from the prophet Jeremiah this morning. It’s not a standard Advent text; the words do seemingly little to prepare us for the birth of the Christ child. But it is a story of hope. And this Christmas, we will tell others the message of hope. Especially in a world that seems so lost and dark; we need the message of hope.

In Jeremiah chapter 32, Jeremiah the prophet is in jail. He was imprisoned by the king, his own king, for preaching the Word of God that came to him; Jeremiah was preaching that the city of Jerusalem would fall. The Babylonians and Chaldeans will take the city; they will break into Jerusalem, and they will burn it all down. The king didn’t really like that Jeremiah kept saying that he and the people would lose it all.

But Jeremiah also kept saying that although they would lose the city and all that was within it, they needed to believe in the original promise that God made to God’s people. It was God who delivered their ancestors out of Egypt through signs and wonders. It was God who brought their ancestors to this land with the promise of bountiful and fertile fields. And it was God who would follow through with this promise. But they had to have hope, even as the war and the famine surrounded them from every side.

So Jeremiah preached that although Jerusalem would soon fall, God will still redeem this land, just as God has promised.

And to show this hope, while he is in prison and as the enemies raged outside of its city’s walls, Jeremiah buys the land that will soon be destroyed. Through the purchase of legal deeds sealed in clay jays (their version of a bank vault) and in front of as many witnesses as they could gather, Jeremiah proves to the people that he believes in God’s promise so much that is willing to risk it all. He puts his money where his mouth is, and he buys the land. Because as God promised, “Houses and fields and vineyards shall again be bought in this land.” It was a leap of faith, an act of hope.

We think of the hope that was seen through Mary. When God said to her that she would give birth to our Savior, he said it was because she was highly favored. But this meant she would almost be left in the night by Joseph. It means she would be rejected by others as she was an unwed young girl. It meant she would have to travel across the country while extremely pregnant to a town that she didn’t know. It meant she would give birth on a dirt floor in a crowded stable next to smelly animals. She did this because she knew the people needed this. She carried Emmanuel. She carried the Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. She carried the light of the world to shine across the people who were walking in darkness. She carried hope.

We carry that same hope today. Not as a pregnancy but as a story. Our story. And we are to carry that story to be shared with others.

At times, it is difficult. I sat next to a family at a funeral, and I didn’t have the right words. Telling someone else about what God has done might be among the hardest aspects of our discipleship. We don’t want to come across as obnoxious, offensive, or harmful. We may think it’s best to keep it to ourselves.

But other times, the story of hope comes so naturally, it fights its way to the top, to stand out and to be ever so clear.

Last week, we asked our community of faith to describe each of our own journeys of faith using a single word. Not an easy task but we did it. We put those words together into an image called a WordCloud. The larger the size of each word represents the number of people who used that particular word.

In a collection of nearly 200 words, this is our story at First Presbyterian Church of Allentown. It is courageous and vulnerable. It is intimate and profound. It is faithful and it is holy. It is us.

Surrounded by words like illuminating and humbled, sustaining and transformative – that is faith.

It also includes words like rocky and shaky, uneven and struggle – that too is faith.

As we move towards the center, we see steadfast and evolving, grace and belief – this is faith.

Faith is wandering and challenging, joyful and blessed.

Faith is full of love and comfort.

But what is in the center, larger than any of the other words? Say it with me.

Hope!

Hope is at our center of our faith. Hope is at our hearts.

That is the story we must tell.

We will share stories about our lives and how we have seen God at work. Sometimes, these are stories of dramatic transformation, in which our lives were healed or turned around. Sometimes, these are stories of confession, in which grace is offered and received. Sometimes, these are quieter, simpler stories of the everyday presence of God. These stories are an opportunity to tell of the hope that is within us.

Hope is contagious. Whether we are sharing the story of what has happened, like Jeremiah buying the soon to be destroyed land to prove he believes in God’s redemption, or Mary carrying the Christ child to shine light unto the people who very likely would be the same ones to reject her or even our stories of God’s love, comfort, joy and grace found in our lives even though it can be challenging, rocky, or a struggle at times, we share the good news by expressing our faith that God is with us and will never leave us alone.

That is hope. Go tell of the hope!

This is the word of God given to us this day. Thanks be to God. Amen.