Sermons Archive - Christ Lutheran Church

Sep 22, 2024

It is Well With My Soul

Series: (All)

September 22, 2024. Today we focus on those moments when the world as we know it seems to change, as it did for Jesus’ disciples when he told them that he was going to have to suffer and die.

Reading: Mark 9:30-37

*** Transcript ***

I remember exactly where I was, and what I was doing, when the world as I knew it ended for the first time. Twenty-three years, eleven days, and somewhere around two hours ago, I was at my desk in Eden Prairie, MN, when my co-worker Jody called to tell me. Two planes had crashed into the tallest buildings in New York City, and over the course of that morning and well into the afternoon, we watched in disbelief as those buildings collapsed, and I willed the phone to ring again with news that my cousins, who lived and worked in New York City, were safe.

The days that followed were full of horrific images of destruction. Many of us remember this. We remember stories of death and very near misses, and the strange silence in the absence of airplanes that we were used to hearing overhead. I found myself feeling lost. I had no idea what to do next, or even how to survive in a world that suddenly seemed so uncertain and so foreign to me. I shared with my dad what I was feeling, and he told me about the day his world seemed to end: November 22, 1963, when President John Fitzgerald Kennedy was assassinated.

The world as I know it has ended since then, sometimes in very global ways, like what we all experienced living through the pandemic. And so much that is happening in our world today — the violent destruction, oppression, and death, in Gaza and in Jerusalem and Ukraine and so many other parts of the world, the gun violence and political upheaval and opportunistic hatred toward anyone different — can almost feel apocalyptic, leave us feeling powerless, and hopeless.

And sometimes, our world ends in deeply personal ways, like the March day last year when my mom’s serious dementia erupted shockingly into full view. We’ve all had those moments: the phone call, or the letter, or the personal event, that shakes the very foundation of everything we know, rendering our world unrecognizable to us.

This morning, just nine chapters into the Gospel of Mark, the disciples have one of those moments, one that is both global and deeply personal. The disciples thought Jesus was going to save them, expected the miracles Jesus had been performing to continue, but as we saw last week, we have a sudden shift in this narrative. And today, Jesus lays down the earth-shattering truth: he, their Messiah as Peter proclaimed, will be taken. He will suffer and he will die. And there’s nothing they can do to stop it.

The disciples, if you notice, respond in one of the ways that we humans often respond to such news. It’s important to know, first, that although our translation makes it sound like this is going to happen sometime in the future, the Greek actually says this betrayal is happening. Now. Right in front of them.

And the disciples have no idea what to do with this, and they don’t get the urgency of the situation. They’re so afraid of what Jesus is saying that they can’t even ask him what he means, or how they can help. Maybe they feel shamed at not knowing. Perhaps, they don’t want to understand. And who can blame them? Jesus is heading to death, and the disciples have, and take, the option to step away, out of their fear. It’s risky to stay connected, and how human it is, and how easy for us too, when the world out there falls apart, to separate ourselves from it, to be more concerned about ourselves and our own comfort and safety, than we are about those whose well-being and lives are in jeopardy.

So, the disciples, as we sometimes do, find something completely different to talk about, something to distract themselves from the reality that is presenting itself to them. I recall trying to convince myself that my mom’s confusion and paranoia was a blip, a short and temporary aberration that would quickly resolve. In the case of the disciples, they delve into speculating about who is going to be first in the military kingdom they believe Jesus is going to establish. But the reality doesn’t go away. The world as they know it is ending in front of them.

And in the middle of that reality, hope appears, like a tiny flicker of flame so small we might miss it. The disciples certainly did. Jesus will be betrayed and killed. And three days later he will rise. Out of death itself, life will come. If you notice our flowers today, the dark flowers on the bottom that Sarah put together with the light flowers coming out. Out of death, life will come. Death is never the final word. Three days after death, Jesus will rise again. And in fact, in Christ, death leads directly to new life. It is no accident. Always, and forever. And that, beloveds, is one of the most important messages of our faith.

In 1873, Horatio Spoffard and his family were booked on the French liner Ville du Havre to travel from the United States to Europe, when his world came to an end. Spoffard was delayed, and he sent his wife and his daughters ahead of him. The ship went down, and only his wife survived. He immediately set out to join his wife in Wales, and as his ship passed the spot where his daughters were lost, he wrote a poem, and Philip Bliss set it to music. “When peace, like a river, attendeth my way, when sorrows like sea billows roll, whatever my lot, though hast taught me to say, it is well, it is well, with my soul!”

We know what God does with times like these. The pain, despair, and death are real. And so too, is God’s presence in the midst of our pain, and the life God brings out of death. So what are we to do, family of faith, when the world falls apart? Jesus tells us this, too: be servants of all, and embrace the children, embrace those who are most vulnerable when the world falls apart. Because always, and especially when the world falls apart, God calls us to come together. To allow our hearts to break, and embody love in the world as Christ did. To live, as James wrote, with the gentleness and wisdom that can only come from God. To face the brokenness with courage, speaking truth, speaking love, speaking healing, knowing that, as we heard last week, Jesus went first. Out of death and brokenness, Jesus always and everywhere brings life, and it will be well with our soul.

Thanks be to God.

*** Keywords ***

2024, Christ Lutheran Church, Webster Groves, sermon, podcast, transcript, Pastor Meagan McLaughlin, Mark 9:30-37

WatchNotesDownloadDateTitle

Sep 22, 2024It is Well With My Soul

Sep 22, 2024
It is Well With My Soul

By: Pastor Meagan
Series: (All)
September 22, 2024. Today we focus on those moments when the world as we know it seems to change, as it did for Jesus’ disciples when he told them that he was going to have to suffer and die.

Reading: Mark 9:30-37

*** Transcript ***

I remember exactly where I was, and what I was doing, when the world as I knew it ended for the first time. Twenty-three years, eleven days, and somewhere around two hours ago, I was at my desk in Eden Prairie, MN, when my co-worker Jody called to tell me. Two planes had crashed into the tallest buildings in New York City, and over the course of that morning and well into the afternoon, we watched in disbelief as those buildings collapsed, and I willed the phone to ring again with news that my cousins, who lived and worked in New York City, were safe.

The days that followed were full of horrific images of destruction. Many of us remember this. We remember stories of death and very near misses, and the strange silence in the absence of airplanes that we were used to hearing overhead. I found myself feeling lost. I had no idea what to do next, or even how to survive in a world that suddenly seemed so uncertain and so foreign to me. I shared with my dad what I was feeling, and he told me about the day his world seemed to end: November 22, 1963, when President John Fitzgerald Kennedy was assassinated.

The world as I know it has ended since then, sometimes in very global ways, like what we all experienced living through the pandemic. And so much that is happening in our world today — the violent destruction, oppression, and death, in Gaza and in Jerusalem and Ukraine and so many other parts of the world, the gun violence and political upheaval and opportunistic hatred toward anyone different — can almost feel apocalyptic, leave us feeling powerless, and hopeless.

And sometimes, our world ends in deeply personal ways, like the March day last year when my mom’s serious dementia erupted shockingly into full view. We’ve all had those moments: the phone call, or the letter, or the personal event, that shakes the very foundation of everything we know, rendering our world unrecognizable to us.

This morning, just nine chapters into the Gospel of Mark, the disciples have one of those moments, one that is both global and deeply personal. The disciples thought Jesus was going to save them, expected the miracles Jesus had been performing to continue, but as we saw last week, we have a sudden shift in this narrative. And today, Jesus lays down the earth-shattering truth: he, their Messiah as Peter proclaimed, will be taken. He will suffer and he will die. And there’s nothing they can do to stop it.

The disciples, if you notice, respond in one of the ways that we humans often respond to such news. It’s important to know, first, that although our translation makes it sound like this is going to happen sometime in the future, the Greek actually says this betrayal is happening. Now. Right in front of them.

And the disciples have no idea what to do with this, and they don’t get the urgency of the situation. They’re so afraid of what Jesus is saying that they can’t even ask him what he means, or how they can help. Maybe they feel shamed at not knowing. Perhaps, they don’t want to understand. And who can blame them? Jesus is heading to death, and the disciples have, and take, the option to step away, out of their fear. It’s risky to stay connected, and how human it is, and how easy for us too, when the world out there falls apart, to separate ourselves from it, to be more concerned about ourselves and our own comfort and safety, than we are about those whose well-being and lives are in jeopardy.

So, the disciples, as we sometimes do, find something completely different to talk about, something to distract themselves from the reality that is presenting itself to them. I recall trying to convince myself that my mom’s confusion and paranoia was a blip, a short and temporary aberration that would quickly resolve. In the case of the disciples, they delve into speculating about who is going to be first in the military kingdom they believe Jesus is going to establish. But the reality doesn’t go away. The world as they know it is ending in front of them.

And in the middle of that reality, hope appears, like a tiny flicker of flame so small we might miss it. The disciples certainly did. Jesus will be betrayed and killed. And three days later he will rise. Out of death itself, life will come. If you notice our flowers today, the dark flowers on the bottom that Sarah put together with the light flowers coming out. Out of death, life will come. Death is never the final word. Three days after death, Jesus will rise again. And in fact, in Christ, death leads directly to new life. It is no accident. Always, and forever. And that, beloveds, is one of the most important messages of our faith.

In 1873, Horatio Spoffard and his family were booked on the French liner Ville du Havre to travel from the United States to Europe, when his world came to an end. Spoffard was delayed, and he sent his wife and his daughters ahead of him. The ship went down, and only his wife survived. He immediately set out to join his wife in Wales, and as his ship passed the spot where his daughters were lost, he wrote a poem, and Philip Bliss set it to music. “When peace, like a river, attendeth my way, when sorrows like sea billows roll, whatever my lot, though hast taught me to say, it is well, it is well, with my soul!”

We know what God does with times like these. The pain, despair, and death are real. And so too, is God’s presence in the midst of our pain, and the life God brings out of death. So what are we to do, family of faith, when the world falls apart? Jesus tells us this, too: be servants of all, and embrace the children, embrace those who are most vulnerable when the world falls apart. Because always, and especially when the world falls apart, God calls us to come together. To allow our hearts to break, and embody love in the world as Christ did. To live, as James wrote, with the gentleness and wisdom that can only come from God. To face the brokenness with courage, speaking truth, speaking love, speaking healing, knowing that, as we heard last week, Jesus went first. Out of death and brokenness, Jesus always and everywhere brings life, and it will be well with our soul.

Thanks be to God.

*** Keywords ***

2024, Christ Lutheran Church, Webster Groves, sermon, podcast, transcript, Pastor Meagan McLaughlin, Mark 9:30-37
Apr 14, 2024Can I Get a Witness?

Apr 14, 2024
Can I Get a Witness?

By: Pastor Meagan
Series: (All)
April 14, 2024. We are all witnesses. This week we were witnesses to the eclipse. And just like Jesus’ disciples, we're called to be witnesses of the risen Christ, in flesh and blood.

Readings: 1 John 3:1-7, Luke 24:36b-48

*** Transcript ***

Just a few days ago there was an event, one that had many of us clamoring to be witnesses. Classes at school were shortened, and I myself bugged off early from a Zoom meeting so I wouldn’t miss it. Vacation days were redeemed, hours spent in cars driving to where the experience would be. Complete. Total. I checked into some options myself. I considered heading south (the anticipated traffic and aforementioned Zoom meeting got in the way of that plan) or maybe getting tickets to ride the riverboats by the Arch (they were booked), and I settled for being a witness closer to home. Karen and I secured the cats inside and we joined our neighbors in our back yards, heads turned upwards — with eclipse glasses, of course — watching the moon as it covered the sun, feeling the air cool, and experiencing the earth darkening in the middle of the afternoon. It was awesome. It’s not every day, after all, that we get to witness a solar eclipse.

The disciples were called to be witnesses too, and they had their own set of questions to answer. Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James and John, and Salome were the first to see the empty tomb, as we heard on Easter Sunday, and we know it took them a while to share what they had seen. And then, in the verses just before Jesus appeared to the disciples in today’s gospel, two of the disciples were walking the road to Emmaus and they were joined by Jesus on the road, and they went back and told the disciples what had happened.

And the disciples were talking about all of this, in that upper room. Perhaps they were debating, as many of us did, about where they should go to find Jesus for themselves. Should they go to the grave again? Should they all go down the road to Emmaus, in case Jesus showed up there to break bread with all of them? Or should they just stay where the were, where they felt at least somewhat safe from the religious leaders and soldiers they feared might be after them? They may have wondered if the story the women and the two who walked the road to Emmaus could be trusted. They were all overwhelmed with shock and grief and fear, after all. Who knows what they actually saw? Jesus was dead, they knew that for sure. He couldn’t really be alive, could he?

And as they were discussing all of these things, Jesus himself came to them. He appeared in that upper room, and wished them peace and showed them his scars. And then Jesus asked for food, because he could tell that the wounds weren’t enough to convince the disciples. And as they experienced these things, their hearts and minds were opened, things made clear to them that hadn’t made any sense before. And Jesus called them witnesses.

We're called to be witnesses too, called to tell the story not just of the celestial event of the eclipse — although that was pretty amazing, even from my backyard. We're called to be witnesses of the risen Christ, in flesh and blood. To see and even touch the scars in his hands and his feet and his side. To watch him eat, chewing the fish provided by the disciples and swallowing it down his esophagus into his belly, just like all of us do. To have our hearts and minds opened to the miracle that is being lived out right in front of us. And to tell that story to everyone we meet.

There are so many ways, and places, and people, in whom we can see Jesus among us. I was witness to Jesus alive this week in the passion of a father advocating at the capitol in Jefferson City for his son, who is experiencing the worst of conditions in a nursing home here in St. Louis since he was the victim of gun violence at the age of 19. This father was seen, in his pain, resolution, and hope, as he shared his story. He was a witness, and we were witnesses to him.

Trans people had a chance to be seen in all their belovedness on Trans Visibility Day, which this year just happened to fall on Easter Sunday. How appropriate to celebrate their lives of challenge and beauty and resilience, on resurrection day.

I saw Jesus alive in the joy several clergy experienced as they shepherded a baby kitty named Motka from Oklahoma to Ohio to be embraced in love at her new forever home.

The disciples didn’t believe it right away that Jesus had risen and was standing in front of them. It wasn’t until they saw Jesus chewing and swallowing that they got it, and their minds and hearts began to absorb and transform. That very human act changed everything, like Jesus’ voice calling “Mary!” on Easter Sunday morning, and the breaking of bread on the road to Emmaus allowed the other disciples to become witnesses to the resurrection. It was as if these actions served as a new pair of glasses for the disciples — resurrection glasses, if you will — allowing the disciples to recognize the risen Jesus as he stood in their midst. It enabled them to tell the story.

And that leaves us with a question: what does it take for us to recognize the risen Christ among us? What does it take to know our own belovedness, as it is described in the letter to John today — to know that we are children of God? What does it take for us to know the belovedness of those around us? What kind of glasses do we need to truly see? What story do we have to tell? And can I get a witness today?

Thanks be to God.

*** Keywords ***

2024, Christ Lutheran Church, Webster Groves, sermon, podcast, transcript, Pastor Meagan McLaughlin, 1 John 3:1-7, Luke 24:36b-48
Apr 7, 2024To Be the Hands and Feet of Jesus in the World Today

Apr 7, 2024
To Be the Hands and Feet of Jesus in the World Today

By: Rachel Helton
Series: (All)
April 7, 2024. Today, Rachel Helton's message is on Doubting Thomas, and how the resurrected Jesus meets him and us where we need him most.

Readings: Acts 4:32-35, Psalm 133, 1 John 1:1-2:2, John 20:19-31

*** Transcript ***

Won't you pray with me? May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be fruitful and true and pleasing to you, O God. Amen.

It was the first day of the week, and Peter (who denied even knowing Jesus just a few days previously) and another disciple have now seen the empty tomb. Mary Magdalene has encountered Jesus himself, who she recognized only after he called her by name. And now we're told that Jesus has come to be among the disciples — the disciples who are huddled behind locked doors, filled with fear. And Jesus says to them, "Peace be with you." And he breathes the Holy Spirit upon them. And that Spirit is not just upon them, but within them. But someone was missing from their midst, Thomas.

While the rest of the disciples were sheltering together — confused, disappointed, afraid — we don't know why Thomas wasn't with them. But the Gospel according to John tells us that Thomas Didymus, Thomas the Twin, wasn't there when Jesus first appears among the disciples, so he has to hear about their encounter with the risen messiah second hand. I wonder if he felt jealous, if he felt left out. Perhaps he felt like he missed out on an opportunity that everyone else had been given. So we shouldn't be surprised, really, that he says, "I want to see him too." I don't think Thomas says this because he needs evidence of the Resurrection, but rather because he longs to encounter the risen Christ himself.

And Jesus meets him there. Thomas needs to see the wounds on Jesus' body. He needs to experience the living God through encountering the traumatized Jesus. Thomas needs to know that Jesus' suffering was real, and that Jesus will continue to show up in suffering. The Resurrection does not suddenly erase suffering, but it does assure us that nothing — not suffering, not fear, not doubt, not confusion, not even a locked door — can keep us from encountering the love of God. It was a whole week later, we're told, when Jesus appeared to Thomas. And I wonder if Thomas' hope dwindled during that week. He must have wondered if he'd missed out forever.

We can feel this way too, if we start to compare our experiences with God to others around us. We might find ourselves feeling jealous, or even feeling skeptical or suspicious of someone else's experience. We might long for Jesus to meet us where we need him most.

Jesus appears again to the disciples, and this time Thomas is there. And Jesus does not scold him or question him or make any mention of the fact that Thomas' experience is somehow different than the other disciples. He simply offers his broken body to him, because that is how Thomas enters into relationship with the Christ who is risen from the dead. The broken body given for Thomas. The broken body given for you, for me.

We can get hung up on this story being about "Doubting Thomas." But this is not about the doubt of Thomas. It's about the deep grace of Christ and his willingness to come to Thomas and meet him right where he is. And verse 31 tells us why he does this: so that through the encounter with the transformed, living Christ, we might believe — and through believing have real life.

Thomas' response to Jesus, saying, "My Lord and my God, my Lord and my God," he bridges together his past experience of living with the presence of Jesus and his future of being empowered by the Spirit of God. In the experience of the broken body, the wounded hands, Thomas can become the hands of Christ in the world, because believing is about more than what one thinks or understands. It's about what one does.

And we know from the reading from Acts that the life of the disciples going forward was the life of doing and living in a community of radical belonging and radical love of neighbor. The disciples are of one heart, one soul, one mind. Through their unity they bear witness to the resurrected Christ, and the result is that everyone has what they need.

Psalm 133 says how good it is when kindred live together in unity. And our reading from 1 John urges us to live together in fellowship. There was suffering in the world then. And there is suffering in the world now. The alleluia of the Easter morning does not erase that reality. But God promises to show up and be with us in life. In all of it. God promises that no one will be left out of his abundance. Mary needed to encounter Jesus in her confusion and grief, and Jesus met her there and called her by name. The disciples needed to encounter Jesus in their fear, and Jesus met them there with peace, bringing the Holy Spirit to them. Thomas needed to encounter the scarred and broken Jesus for himself, and Jesus met him there. In a way, perhaps we are Thomas' twin, because we too weren't there and yet we hold out for our own encounter with the resurrected Christ.

And this is the promise of the Resurrection. Not just a promise of life, but a promise of relationship with a God who meets us where we are. Two thousand years later we, like Thomas, can also say, "I want to see him too." And we can trust that Jesus will meet us in the place where we need him to. It doesn't look the same for each of us. Christ reveals himself to us in intimate and unique ways, not to prove something, but to empower his continued ministry through us by the work of the Holy Spirit. The result of the Resurrection is that we can fully experience God's provision of abundance through the love we share with our neighbors.

On Maundy Thursday, we read together the words written by Teresa of Ávila in the 1500s, and I want to share them again today:

Christ has no body but yours,

No hands, no feet on earth but yours,

Yours are the eyes with which he looks

Compassion on the world,

Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,

Yours are the hands, with which he blesses the world.

Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,

Yours are the eyes, you are his body.

I invite you to think about your own encounter with the risen Christ. How is Jesus being revealed to you? And how are you empowered by this encounter with Christ to live in community, to care for others, to be cared for by others, for the sake of abundant life? As we sing together our hymn of the day, let us think about what it means to be the hands and feet of Jesus in the world today.

Amen.

*** Keywords ***

2024, Christ Lutheran Church, Webster Groves, sermon, podcast, transcript, Rachel Helton, Acts 4:32-35, Psalm 133, 1 John 1:1-2:2, John 20:19-31, St. Teresa of Ávila, Christ Has No Body But Yours
Jan 29, 2023Blessed

Jan 29, 2023
Blessed

By: Pastor Meagan
Series: (All)
January 29, 2023. The beatitudes are blessings. Not payment, bribery, or compensation, but the promise of a God who loves us simply because we are children of God. In this sermon, Pastor Meagan preaches on what the beatitudes have to tell us today.

Readings: Micah 6:1-8, Matthew 5:1-12

*** Transcript ***

Often, the first thing that we say to someone when we greet them after we say hello is, “How are you?” And the responses are often as predictable as the question itself. “Fine, how are you?” “I’m alright.” “Busy.” “Tired.” But Jean was different. Whenever I would visit with Jean and ask how she was, she would claim the promise of our gospel today. “How are you, Jean?” “I am blessed.” And the thing is, her situation was not such that one would think of her as blessed — dealing with many health issues, raising her grandchildren, struggling often to make ends meet. But still, there it was, every single time. “How are you, Jean?” “I am blessed.” How foolish does that sound, to a world that values money, property, and prestige?

Today we hear that word “blessed” many times in our gospel. And it’s easy for us to hear the beatitudes as a list of the people who are blessed, with those not named left out. But today, as we head into our annual meeting, it is the perfect time to reflect on this passage in which Jesus offers his followers then and us today not a checklist or a measuring stick, but wisdom for the journey of discipleship. So, what do the beatitudes have to tell us who gather this morning?

So let’s start with what the beatitudes are not. The beatitudes are not a Hallmark greeting card, sweet but shallow phrases meant to make us feel good, but often not much going on below the surface. The beatitudes don’t lull us into comfort and complacency, but wake us up to the promises of God, and give us energy and drive to embody those promises in the world. Blessed are those who hunger for righteousness, for they shall be filled.

The beatitudes are not a to-do list. Tempted as we may be to read it this way, this is not a list of things to accomplish or be so that God will love us. God already loves us! So if you are reading this and trying to figure out if you are included here... yes, I see you! You are blessed!

The beatitudes are not meant to shame us. They're not a message to us who are privileged that we are not worthy of these promises. God is never about shame or exclusion.

The beatitudes are also not permission to be passive. These verses have been used this way, sometimes quite intentionally, to tell people who are poor, enslaved, oppressed, abused, that they should accept their lot in life, be meek and peaceful in the face of violence. We know from so many other passages in scripture that this is not what Jesus was about. So the beatitudes are not an excuse for we who have privilege to allow the injustices and pain of the world to continue unaddressed because someday things will get better. As we hear the news of the tragic death of Tyre Nichols in Memphis. The untold damage being done to trans people, including trans children, in our own state legislature in just the last two weeks. Gun violence taking more lives. We are called not to passivity, but to holy action. Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

The beatitudes are not a pie in the sky vision of a better day to come, without concern for what is happening to us today. God is always concerned about what is happening now, not just about what will happen in the future. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

So what do the beatitudes have to tell us today? The beatitudes are blessings — not payment, bribery, or compensation, but the promise of a God who loves us simply because we are children of God. We are not loved because we follow God. We follow what God calls us to, doing justice, loving mercy, walking humbly as Micah tells us today, because we are blessed and we can’t help but share it. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.

The beatitudes are reversals of all that we've been taught to expect in this world. The world tells us that the poor, the hungry, the weak are worth less than others whose gifts to the world are more obvious. But God always goes straight to the margins, to those who are suffering or in need. God is always closest to those that need God the most. And so we, disciples of Jesus at Christ Lutheran, welcome and serve as Jesus did, where it is needed most.

We are blessed, and we see that most clearly when we know at the core of our being that we need God. We see that most clearly when we embody the promise, and in so doing open our hearts to those who have the most to teach us about God’s love. And our most profound teachers are often those we would least expect. God’s promises turn our world upside down, opening our hearts to promises beyond our comprehension. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

The beatitudes are vocation. We miss the point if we take these words out of context, and forget how Jesus lived his life — embodying God’s strength where there is weakness, God’s abundance where there is hunger and poverty, God’s justice where there is oppression. This is what we, followers of Jesus on the way, are created for. This is our call for today. Micah proclaims God’s call to live justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with God. Blessing and justice intertwine in the beatitudes just as in Micah. Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.

And this, family of Christ Lutheran, is our call as we gather in a few minutes in our annual meeting to reflect on our ministry together, and envision the year ahead. We gather to remember that we are blessed. We gather to remember that we are blessed to be a blessing to others. We gather to claim that the blessings of the beatitudes are for here and now, for all people, not just for ourselves. We gather to better live into this sometimes foolish call, to welcome and serve expecting nothing in return. We gather to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God — not just someday, but today. We are blessed, formed and sent to embody God’s blessing in this world. And today we ask that it roll down like streams of water. That is good news.

Thanks be to God.

*** Keywords ***

2023, Christ Lutheran Church, Webster Groves, sermon, podcast, transcript, Pastor Meagan McLaughlin, Micah 6:1-8, Matthew 5:1-12, beatitudes, Tyre Nicols, Memphis
Jan 22, 2023A Road Full of Promise

Jan 22, 2023
A Road Full of Promise

By: Pastor Meagan
Series: (All)
January 22, 2023. What drew the disciples to follow Jesus? What draws us to be disciples and follow Jesus? We know that the road is not easy, but as Pastor Meagan reminds us today, we do not walk alone.

Readings: Isaiah 9:1-4, 1 Corinthians 1:10-18, Matthew 4:12-23

*** Transcript ***

Recently we've been watching the Disney+ series "Willow." Has anyone seen that? I think I see a couple of hands out there. So, this is a series that focuses on a quest to rescue a kidnapped princess, and restore safety and peace to Tir Asleen. You would think that the hero of the story would be Willow since the show is called "Willow" — and he certainly has a critical role — but by the end of the first episode it is clear that the success or failure of the quest actually depends on Elora Danan, a young sorcerer whose power has been hidden for her own safety until she was needed. As she discovers who she really is, she says repeatedly that she doesn't actually want to be Elora Danan. She may be destined to be the most powerful sorceress of all time, but the road ahead isn't easy. It involves leaving behind everything she's ever known, trusting only in the promise that things will be okay. And Willow and the rest of their companions also leave everything they've ever known, and follow Elora on a journey into the unknown that is filled with all the risk such a journey entails.

And this is not the only story about an unlikely hero and faithful, courageous companions. Harry Potter has Hermione and Ron. Ms. Marvel has Nakia Bahadir. Luke Skywalker has Han Solo. Xena has Gabrielle. Batman has Robin. All the heroes have a sidekick, a companion — a disciple, if you will.

As I reflect on the gospel for this week, I'm struck by the flow of Jesus' ministry, as it is shared in Matthew. Jesus hears that John, who has baptized Jesus, had been arrested for calling those with power to repentance. And we know that John will be beheaded. And when Jesus hears about the arrest, he immediately begins to preach the very same thing that got John into so much trouble: "Repent, for the kingdom of God has come near." This was not a popular message. Quite the opposite. And those who have followed Jesus on this road of truth-telling and gospel-sharing have faced similar opposition.

Especially this week as we remember the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., we think of him as a hero whose words inspired thousands across the country. And that is certainly true. But not everyone saw it that way at the time. He wrote some of his most profound words from a jail cell after being arrested, and called out those around him who wished that the truths he spoke about racism, classism, and economic injustice were not so hard to swallow. And he was actually arrested over 30 times before he died. Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s gifts were seen as threats to those in power, to the point that he had an FBI file and was ultimately assassinated.

Truth be told, we generally still prefer the easier truths, the soft-spoken and soft, gentle words and tones, to the clear, prophetic voices that reveal the broken places and pain we would rather not face. We will sing in a few minutes about how Jacob dreamed of the ladder that represented for him the promise of God. And a few chapters later, Jacob wrestled with God all night as he tried to find his way forward. Jacob, like Jesus, had to face truth and challenge head on.

Jesus preaches this challenging message, knowing it would make those in power angry. And then Jesus goes out and begins to call people to follow him, gathering disciples for the journey ahead. And somehow, some way, when Jesus called, knowing what was happening with John, knowing that Jesus was preaching the same message that got John arrested, the disciples followed him right into that fire — immediately, Matthew tells us. It makes me wonder what they were thinking when they dropped their nets, left their families, and began to walk the hard, dangerous road alongside the prophet from Galilee. What drew the disciples to follow Jesus? What draws us to be disciples and follow Jesus? What is the vision of God that Jesus embodies for us?

God's vision, as we know from so many promises throughout our scriptures, promises healing for every sickness and illness, as Matthew says at the end of today's gospel. Every disease of body, mind, and spirit — including, I imagine, diseases of violence, oppression, and division that Dr. King pointed out — break down our communities as well. God's vision turns us in a new direction, expanding our vision of who God is, and showing us the way when we get sick or lost or stuck. God's vision shows us hope.

Matthew tells us Jesus left Nazareth and made his home in Capernaum by the sea, echoing the promise in Isaiah that the Spirit of God reaches all places, all peoples, all creation. God's healing extends to the ends of the earth, and no one is left behind. God's vision brings clarity and truth. Jesus faces and proclaims hard truths, such as our need for healing and redemption, knowing that truth brings freedom. Jacob discovered this freedom when he saw the ladder, and even more so when he wrestled with God to find his way. Paul writes to the Corinthians, who were divided over what human leader they should be listening to, and warns them that we humans can get lost very easily, and following Christ is what will bring truth and clarity to our lives.

We as Christian disciples today follow God in Jesus, and we find clarity and truth in a world where there is so much confusion and lies and still arguing over personalities trying to build power for themselves. We follow Christ and find healing, clarity, and truth. And around all of this, God envisions holy community, grounded in love, commitment, and hope. Isaiah proclaims that God brings us together in joy and strength. Paul tells the Corinthians that Christ is the one to trust. Jesus invites the disciples, us, to join him to grow the community of love, truth, and healing that God envisions for us. God envisions holy community, and there is a place for us, each one of us, to be present and share the unique gifts that God has given us.

The disciples immediately dropped their nets and set off to follow Jesus, on a road that was difficult and dangerous, but still full of promise. The road is not easy, but we do not walk alone. We disciples of Christ today hear Jesus' invitation and follow Christ to the promises of God. And that is why we follow.

Thanks be to God.

*** Keywords ***

2023, Christ Lutheran Church, Webster Groves, sermon, podcast, transcript, Pastor Meagan McLaughlin, Isaiah 9:1-4, 1 Corinthians 1:10-18, Matthew 4:12-23
Jan 15, 2023Beloved: Called and Sent

Jan 15, 2023
Beloved: Called and Sent

By: Pastor Meagan
Series: (All)
January 15, 2023. Today we celebrate the baptism of Jesus. We remember Peter’s claim that God shows no partiality, and in her sermon Pastor Meagan reminds us to listen for God’s voice calling us, and all people, beloved.

Readings: Isaiah 42:1-9, Acts 10:34-43, Matthew 3:13-17

*** Transcript ***

After telling us about John’s ministry, which John saw as preparing the way for Jesus, in today’s passage Jesus himself comes back on the scene, as we heard in our gospel. He's a grown man about 30 years old, and he's ready to enter into public ministry. And the first thing that Jesus, the Son of God, does is join the crowds of people who present themselves to John for baptism.

John has made it clear to his followers that he is not the Messiah, and that the one to come — Jesus — is so much more powerful than John that John is not fit to untie his sandal straps. And yet Jesus comes to John to be baptized. And by doing this Jesus is placing himself in the midst of all the other people coming to John to offer and commit their lives to God. Jesus is demonstrating his humanity, and his need to be in intentional relationship with God, who he called Father at the age of 12.

And then, as Jesus is praying to God his Father after being baptized, God shows up in a concrete way. The Holy Spirit descends in the form of a dove, a visual sign of God’s presence and blessing. And the voice of God is heard calling Jesus his beloved son. And just like that, Jesus goes from one of the crowd, to being called out as beloved child of God!

Jesus’ baptism is significant because of what it reveals to us about Jesus’ identity as human and divine. We read this today and know that not only does Jesus call God Father, but God claims Jesus as beloved son. This event also reminds us who we are, and when we hear it, we're called to remember that we too are God’s beloved children. In Isaiah today, God calls God’s people by name, takes them by the hand, and claims them as their own. We are God’s own. And God promises that even when we are walking through fire, and flood water, God is with us and will never forsake us. We are each called by name, and God claims each one of us as his own.

And, there’s more. In Isaiah, and in Matthew’s telling of Jesus’ baptism, the promise is not only to each of us as individuals, but to all of us, as God's people. God claims us as people of God. Jesus is one of hundreds, thousands perhaps, coming before God to be baptized. And Isaiah tells us God will bring together all of God's people, from every corner of the earth.

The promise of God knows no limits, no boundaries or borders, no nation or race or language, from here to the ends of the earth. Today we heard about Christianity in Africa from Marc Horn in Adult Forum. There is no limits, boundaries, or borders, from here to the ends of the earth, for God's love. The Apostles Peter and John understand this. When they hear that the Samaritans — people seen as second class, outsiders, foreigners — have been baptized, they immediately go to them as leaders of the fledgling church to welcome them and affirm their place as children of God. And the Samaritans too receive the Holy Spirit.

We remember our baptisms today, and as we do, we remember who we are as children of God. This is not something we earn. It is a gift of God freely given to us in grace. The Israelites were far from perfect — they knew they had made mistakes and failed God as a people, and they knew they needed his forgiveness and mercy. All of those coming to John likewise knew that they had sinned and needed God’s forgiveness and blessing in their lives. And as Luther tells us, we are both sinner and saint, and God claims us as God’s own with no conditions or requirements or exceptions.

Celebrating the baptism of Jesus, remembering Peter’s claim that God shows no partiality, hearing the echoes of Isaiah’s words to the Israelites, reminds us to listen for God’s voice calling us, and all people, beloved. We are reminded that not only can we not earn our place as God’s child, but because of God’s grace, we don’t have to earn it. When we're tempted to try to decide who is worthy and who is not, whether we're worthy or we're not, who is in and who is out, whether we're in or we're out, we should hear these words and be reminded. We are invited and challenged to claim the promise of God for ourselves, and for our community at Christ Lutheran, and for our neighboring churches on Lockwood and the ELCA congregations within our conference, and for the church in Africa, and all countries around the world, all peoples, from one end of the earth to the other.

We're called to remember that we are not beloved because we are baptized, but we baptize because we are beloved. We're not part of God’s family because we're baptized, but we baptize because we are part of God’s family. And when we come together at the font, at the table, God is with us, calling us by name, calling us beloved.

Thanks be to God.

*** Keywords ***

2023, Christ Lutheran Church, Webster Groves, sermon, podcast, transcript, Pastor Meagan McLaughlin, Isaiah 42:1-9, Acts 10:34-43, Matthew 3:13-17
Jan 8, 2023The (Non) Science of Following the Star

Jan 8, 2023
The (Non) Science of Following the Star

By: Pastor Meagan
Series: (All)
January 8, 2023. On this day when we celebrate Epiphany and we consider the wise people making their way to Bethlehem, Pastor Meagan preaches on finding our way.

Reading: Matthew 2:1-12

*** Transcript ***

When I was in grade school, my classmates and I went to camp in northern Minnesota in January, and we were sent out on a competitive orienteering activity. We used compasses to make our way to stations where we would stamp our card to show that we had made it to that point. And then we would head to the next point. Theoretically. I took a wrong turn before we even got to the first station. Rather than backtracking, I had the brilliant idea to take a shortcut. Off the path. Through snow up to our thighs. We finally made it back to a path and found the station, but by that time I was already hoarse from screaming myself silly, using words no good Catholic girl should probably ever use. And once our feet hit the path, there was the station, just feet from where we had been the whole time. And the path it was on was the one that we should have taken to begin with, less than a hundred yards from where I decided to go rogue. We got there, but...

On this day when we celebrate Epiphany and we consider the wise people making their way to Bethlehem, perhaps on camels, and I think about finding my way, many other stories of navigating a journey come to mind.

My mom would often take different routes on different days to get to familiar places, and when we asked her why, she would say she didn’t like going the same way every time. There isn't just one way to get anywhere, and thank goodness for that when roads are closed.

When I got to take a turn driving the boat when our family was on the lake, I learned that navigating a boat involves aiming the boat for a point on a distant shore, avoiding rocks, shallow areas, and other boats, and making many small adjustments as you go. No straight path from A to B on the water. In college, my family and I took a trip to Italy, and we drove from city to city around the country. My dad was the driver, and I was the navigator. At one point, I will admit, we could have been in any one of four countries, for all I knew. And I have found that my dependence on MapQuest means I still don’t know nearly as much about how to get around St. Louis as I probably should after three years.

There are many ways to get where we need to go, and many ways to navigate. And our wise people, in today’s gospel, used a star to guide them to their destination. But they only got started on the journey because of the many years they had spent studying the stars, and a prophecy that following that particular star would lead them to the King of the Jews. But the star didn’t get them all the way there, so they stopped at King Herod’s to ask for directions too — always a very good option. And with the help of another prophecy known to Herod’s people, the wise people found their way to Bethlehem. And then, the wise people trusted a dream guiding them to avoid returning to Herod on their way home, just as Joseph trusted the dream that told him his path forward was to stay with Mary. And Mary and Joseph together made the decision to follow guidance from yet another dream to get to safety in Egypt.

The wise people and Mary and Joseph discovered, as we all have at different times, that finding our way in life, and in faith, is far from being an exact science. I'm sure you all have your own stories of finding your way, or maybe not so much. It doesn’t say how long the wise people had been on the road when they arrived at Bethlehem, but it was likely months or even years, altogether. Mary and Joseph were away from Nazareth far longer than they ever would have expected when they first left for Bethlehem. And yet, through all the twists and turns, and getting lost at times, all along the way they are exactly where they are supposed to be. And they all ultimately encountered the God of the universe, come to us in Jesus.

Finding our way is far from being an exact science, much as we might wish it could be that easy. Many of us, like the wise people and Mary and Joseph, have probably felt quite lost at times, wondering where God was leading, and utilizing many tools as we navigate the path.

Following God is not easy, even when a star does light our path. Herod cannot have been happy with the wise people, for defying him by refusing to tell him what they found in Bethlehem. Mary and Joseph’s families probably wondered what on earth they were thinking, fleeing to Egypt when returning to Nazareth was the plan. And the leaders of their community were likely angry with both of them for not adhering to the law, becoming pregnant before getting married. Those proclaiming God’s promises of love and freedom and justice, yesterday and today, often experience threats to their reputation, their wellbeing, and even their lives. And yet, they continue on the journey.

The wise people had the star, the prophecies, Herod’s scholars, and dreams. We have our stars — scriptures, wise mentors and companions in faith, and the inspiration of the Holy Spirit that tells us in unexpected moments that we, like those who have gone before us, are exactly where we're supposed to be. God is near.

The journeys of the wise people, and Mary and Joseph, and we followers of stars today, are not about following a precise path from A to B, with a need to make the exact right moves with every step lest we are lost beyond hope. After all, I did eventually find the path on my orienteering adventure, and my family and I made it home from Europe in the end.

The journey that we, and they, are on is about taking each step as it comes, following the star as best we can. And that means a lot of patience, adjusting, choosing our stars wisely, and knowing that even wrong turns will get us where we need to be — and perhaps most of all, trusting that wherever we go, no matter how lost we may feel, the God of the Universe is with us. God is with us in Christ, guiding us with every step we take. God is near, perhaps nearer than we think.

Today, as we celebrate the journey of the wise people to Bethlehem, and begin a new calendar year, I'm going to invite each of us to take a star — a piece of scripture — to guide us on our way. And I'm going to ask all of the children to come up and help me make sure everyone gets a star. So if you can start making your way up, come on up. Anyone who wants to help hand out stars. All of the kids can come up. I see a few coming. Alright. Journeying where the God of the Universe is leading us isn't easy, and it's not an exact science, but with the stars as our guide, we know we're on the right path.

Thanks be to God.

*** Keywords ***

2023, Christ Lutheran Church, Webster Groves, sermon, podcast, transcript, Pastor Meagan McLaughlin, Matthew 2:1-12
Nov 27, 2022Trading Expectations

Nov 27, 2022
Trading Expectations

By: Pastor Meagan
Series: (All)
November 27, 2022. This Advent we reflect on expectations. The people of God were waiting for something that looked like swords to bring the justice they craved to the world, but Isaiah told them that God promised swords turned into plowshares. And today we expect, or at least wish, that God would come with practical, physical power and right the wrongs of the world. But even Jesus doesn’t know the day or the hour when the kin-dom of God will come to pass, and we don’t know what it might look like.

Readings: Isaiah 2:1-5, Matthew 24:36-44

*** Transcript ***

Advent is a season of waiting, hoping, and expecting. This Advent, we join our Conference in reflecting on expectations — Great Expectations. When you hear the word “expectations” what comes to mind? I asked some friends and colleagues what they thought, and I got a lot of different perspectives as you might imagine.

One person said they define expectations as “waiting for something with preconceived ideas of when or how or what it should be — either good or bad.” Some of you may have heard the phrase, “Expectations are premeditated resentments,” a common saying in twelve-step groups, which warns against having unrealistic expectations of others that will inevitably fail. And it’s even more problematic if you don’t let the other person know what your expectations of them are.

One of my friends changed this to say that expectations are “resentments under construction,” which makes me imagine each expectation stacked, like bricks one on top of another, creating a wall of full-blown resentment that will likely require much more time to take down than it did to build.

One friend shared the worry that she’ll be judged and not able to meet the expectations others have of her. And it’s not just other people’s expectations. The pressure of the expectations we place on ourselves can bind and crush us under a weight of disappointment and shame.

And one person, when asked about expectations, simply replied, “Disaster,” while another said that in their experience expectations lead to misery and suffering. That's not what we want! Having no expectations, they feel, means having no attachments to what will or should happen — and they find it freeing. One of my friends said that in defense against all of these challenges, they try to keep their expectations low sometimes, and they often end up pleasantly surprised.

So let’s face it: things don't always happen when and how we want them to happen. And we don’t always achieve what we want to achieve. And this time of year can be really fertile ground for expectations that, as my friend suggested, can lead to disaster — or at least a whole lot of pressure and stress. Perfect cookies, and other baked goods. (I failed this test already when I burned half the Chex Mix I made this week.) Beautiful decorations on a full, even, pine tree. (Not sure how that’s going to work out this year since we have a rambunctious kitten who is just a year old. She hasn’t seen a tree yet.) Peaceful, joy-filled, family gatherings with no conflict or stress. (This is especially hard when our whole society has become so divided, on issues that have a deep impact on dignity, health, and wellbeing.) And of course, a picture-perfect meal all made from scratch. (Has anyone else worked hard for this, and then had the flu, or COVID, strike your household on the morning of the big event?)

The people of God knew something of expectations. And they were tired. They were waiting for something that looked like swords to bring the justice they craved to the world. But as we hear in our scripture today, Isaiah told them that God promised swords turned into plowshares. The disciples following Jesus were expecting swords and military victory too — a worldly king who would overthrow the Romans. We too, I think, often expect, or at least wish, that God would come with practical physical power and right the wrongs of the world. Feed those who are hungry, so that no one need ever go without. End senseless hatred and violence, like that waged against the LGBTQ community this week at Club Q in Colorado Springs, as they gathered in one of the few places they feel safe to be themselves. Resolve the political tension and violence that seems to have infected the whole country, corrupting religion as an excuse to legislate oppression against so many who are vulnerable.

Things don't always happen the way we think they should, or expect they will. Our old church year has ended, and the new church year is beginning with Advent today. And as we join congregations in our Conference in reflecting on Great Expectations, now seems to be the perfect time to trade one set of expectations for another. Expectations that are informed and transformed by grace, which can lead us out of the pressure and shame we hold over ourselves, and others. And lead us into hope for a world that desperately needs it. In the midst of a world that we know is broken, Mary, in the Magnificat which we will sing together each Wednesday evening in Holden evening prayer, claims the promise of a world that hasn’t yet come.

The dictionary defines “expectation” as a strong belief that something will happen in the future, a belief that someone will achieve something, leaning into a promise or hope that hasn’t yet happened. This is something that scriptures talk about often, and it shows up in all of our scriptures today.

Our Advent journey of Great Expectations begins. As we enter into this season of waiting, watching, wondering, this first Sunday of Advent we light the candle of hope on our Advent wreath. Isaiah describes for us God’s vision of hope for the world. The people, lifted up. An end to war, weapons turned into tools that we can use to care for and share the abundance God has created. All of us together, walking with God, as God’s people. In Matthew, Jesus tells us that even though it hasn’t happened yet, it will happen. Another friend defined “expectation” as a kind of resilience, where attitude and effort collide. In a world where we still witness violence, injustice, brokenness, we live and breathe and serve in hope for the promises of God that we know will come, claiming with our very bodies that it will come, when we least expect it. Many of us this morning engaged in an act of hope and resilience this morning, as we packed food for those who are hungry.

It's a choice we make, as people of faith, as followers of Jesus. We as God’s beloved trade in the expectations that bring stress, resentment, and disappointment, and choose to watch, and wait, and notice the signs of Jesus alive in our midst, right here and now. To take small actions, in each moment, that bring the promises of God to life for those around us.

This season, we are invited into a deeper awareness of the hope, peace, joy, and love that flows out of expecting Jesus, Emmanuel, God with us. Even Jesus, we hear in Matthew, doesn’t know the day or the hour when the kin-dom of God will come to pass, and we don’t know what it might look like — it will likely be far beyond our expectations when it does. We gather today, knowing all the members of our Conference, and Christians around the world, are joined with us in hope.

We're invited in this season to wake up, to pay attention, and make the choice as to what expectations we will hold as we journey together this season. Today we center our hearts, and lean into grace-filled, hopeful expectations, to claim God’s presence with us. Together, each time we gather, we remind ourselves and one another that we are beloved, and God’s love never fails, so we can trust in God’s promise with hopeful expectation.

Thanks be to God.

*** Keywords ***

2022, Christ Lutheran Church, Webster Groves, sermon, podcast, transcript, Pastor Meagan McLaughlin, Isaiah 2:1-5, Matthew 24:36-44, COVID-19, coronavirus, pandemic
Nov 13, 2022Falling-Apart-Times and Ordinary Days

Nov 13, 2022
Falling-Apart-Times and Ordinary Days

By: Pastor Meagan
Series: (All)
November 13, 2022. In falling-apart-times, we’re afraid. And Jesus tells us that as much as we may want to, as hard as we may try, we can't understand it or change it. But in those times, when the stones are coming down, God is present. And God will guide us and enable us to embody the love and mercy of God, no matter what is happening around us.

Readings: Malachi 4:1-2a, 2 Thessalonians 3:6-13, Luke 21:5-19

*** Transcript ***

Often, when we come across apocalyptic passages like in our gospel today, images of people carrying signs saying “the end of the world is near” come to mind. We read them and often read on, letting these words pass, as we live our lives in a world that generally feels pretty settled, comfortable, and stable. We see the destruction as something that will come someday, in the future — perhaps when Jesus does come again. But not here. Not now. Not today.

And then, there are “those” days. Days when everything we knew seems, in one way or another, to have disappeared. Days which become markers in our lives, creating a “before” and an “after” that will forever be different.

September 11, 2001, is one of those days that many of us of a certain age or older will not easily forget. I was at work, when my co-worker exclaimed in shock about the plane that had crashed into the Trade Center in Manhattan, and the two of us spent the greater part of the day glued to the TV.

Over the weeks to come, I found myself shaken to the core. I was afraid of what the future held, in a way I had never been. I felt economically vulnerable. I grieved for the loss of so many lives, as we all did, and the devastation for families who had lost loved ones that day. Nothing felt safe, or secure, or familiar anymore. Grief, anxiety, isolation, confusion.

I remember talking to my dad in the weeks after September 11, as I struggled to find solid ground again. And he told me that he had experienced just such uncertainty, fear, and grief, following the assassination of President Kennedy 40 years earlier — a national tragedy which also rattled everyone who lived through it. Grief, anxiety, isolation, confusion.

March 15, 2020 is another day that will be with me, and many of us, forever. I remember gathering in this very space for Worship that day. I remember those who were here, and many who were not, as COVID-19 had begun to take hold in our community. Bishop Susan Candea was here with us that morning as we agreed to take a pause in gathering in person, and in so doing entered a trauma none of us would have anticipated. The virus, we thought, just a few days before that, was not here, but overseas. We wouldn’t be impacted, not really. And then came the stay-at-home orders. Empty shelves, where toilet paper and other necessities were supposed to be. Days stretched to weeks, to months, to over a year, as we worked and studied and worshipped from home, learned new technology, crossed streets to give ourselves space to breathe, wondering as time went on when we would ever get back to normal — and realizing, even still today, that we probably never will return to what felt like normal before, not really. Grief, anxiety, isolation, and confusion.

Collective events like those, the violence and challenges to democracy in our own country, viruses that threaten life across the globe, and personal experiences like losing a loved one or receiving a life-altering diagnosis, can leave us feeling shaken, and unsure about anything. On days like those, Jesus’ words about walls coming down (like we have on our altar today) and wars and insurrections in the Gospel of Luke, and the prophetic words of Malachi describing fires destroying everything, are no longer future possibilities and theories, but our lived reality as the world we knew in the “before” seems to crumble. It was lived reality for those listening to Luke, as they walked in the shadows of the ruins where the Temple used to be. Their whole world shattered. Their connection God changed forever, in ways they couldn’t understand yet.

Of course, in those falling-apart-times, we’re afraid, and that’s exactly why Luke would want to share these particular words of Jesus.

Jesus wanted the disciples and us to know that no matter what happens, and how final it seems, it is not yet the end of the story. Destruction, trauma, and death, will never be the final word.

And Jesus tells us that as much as we may want to, as hard as we may try, we can't understand it or change it. In fact, we don’t need to know what to say, or how to make sense of it all. Because in those times when everything seems to be falling apart, when the stones are coming down, God is present even when we can’t perceive it. And in each and every moment, God will guide us and enable us to embody the love and mercy of God, no matter what is happening around us.

We, as people of faith together, can face those times when the world seems to be falling apart differently because of this promise. We, as people of faith together, can live life differently on ordinary days because of this promise. As people of faith together.

We witness the stones falling, and the fires burning, and we bear witness in our lives to the promise of God’s love, justice, and mercy that will never fall or burn.

Last week we heard the Beatitudes in our gospel, illustrating for us one way of bearing this witness in falling-apart-times and ordinary days. As Roger pointed out, in our letter to the Ephesians, we are called to take action each and every day to embody this promise. Our passage from Malachi today gives the image of the calf leaping from the stall — claiming the joy and energy of new life in the midst of the fires.

Jesus tells us today in those times when we are shaken, and perhaps exhausted, and maybe a little lost, that we can trust that in each and every moment, we will have the words, and the life, and the hope that we need to share God’s promise with a world that is feeling the same way.

Today, we are reminded that God holds us in our brokenness, exhaustion, and fear. Healing comes, as Malachi says, when we are most wounded. And we are transformed, prepared in each and every moment to embody the holding, and the healing, and the life, and the love in the unique ways God has given to us, in all times. We witness the brokenness, and the beauty, of the world around us, and we bear witness in our lives as we share all that God has given us with courage and with hope. We celebrate today all that we, in this community gathered, have been given, and offer all that we are. And we trust as we will sing in a few minutes, that God will guide us and provide all that we need along the way. Because, family of Christ Lutheran, as all of our scripture tells us today, the story isn’t over yet. In falling-apart-times and ordinary days, the hope and healing of God lift us up and surround us, and we are sent to share that promise with the world.

Thanks be to God.

*** Keywords ***

2022, Christ Lutheran Church, Webster Groves, sermon, podcast, transcript, Pastor Meagan McLaughlin, Malachi 4:1-2a, 2 Thessalonians 3:6-13, Luke 21:5-19, pandemic, coronavirus, Roger Rose
Nov 6, 2022Resurrection Hope

Nov 6, 2022
Resurrection Hope

By: Pastor Meagan
Series: (All)
November 6, 2022. We who grieve on this All Saints' Day, who feel overwhelmed by the beasts and brokenness of this world, can rest in the promise of resurrection.

Readings: Daniel 7:1-3, 15-18, Ephesians 1:11-23

*** Transcript ***

Two years ago my family gathered, in an outdoor space to be safe in COVID despite late fall weather in Minnesota, to lay my Aunt Kate to rest. We raged at the disease that had so tragically taken her body, and her mind, and eventually her life. We celebrated her life, claimed hope in the resurrection, and at the same time, we grieved her loss, and wondered together why it had to be this way, and what to do with her gone from our day-to-day lives. In those moments of grief, claiming the resurrection can feel a bit like watching a garden bed of dry earth and brown remnants of perennials in the early spring, hoping against hope that new life will come, eventually, but not quite believing that it will be possible. Those who have had this experience have perhaps also taken comfort in knowing that Jesus grieved too, weeping at the death of his friend Lazarus.

The Ephesians, and many of the other communities that Paul was writing to in his letters, certainly knew death. The Ephesians may not have known Jesus personally, but his life and death impacted them profoundly. They believed in the promise of Jesus’ resurrection from the dead. And we know from Paul’s letters that they expected Jesus to come back, in their lifetimes, to fulfill the mission and promises that he made while he lived and taught and healed.

But his return had been delayed. In many of Paul’s letters, he is addressing people who are still trying to figure out what Jesus’ promise of life means when they haven’t seen it yet. When people around them, faithful, good people, are still dying. When their own lives are threatened by the Roman soldiers. When resurrection doesn't seem to be happening from anything they are experiencing.

Today we celebrate All Saints' Day together, as a community, many of us in the sanctuary, and some on Zoom. And it is so good to be together, to celebrate the communion of saints, to remember those who have died. We take time this morning to acknowledge the reality of loss and grief, and in the face of that reality we claim, in this time, in this place, the promise of the resurrection that we profess every week in the Apostle’s Creed. We wait together, as the Ephesians did, in the space between the now, and the not yet.

Like the Ephesians, and all peoples who have come before us, we know death. We know the brokenness of this world that comes in so many forms, the powers that Daniel describes as the beasts. Injustices, illness, violence, abuse, and the internal beasts, too — anger, resentment, anxiety, self-judgement... and the reality of death and grief that can overwhelm all of us. All the beasts of this world that can hold onto us, weighing us down, creating the illusion that their power is absolute.

And we know, as we hear the stories, that God is bigger than all of that. God, Daniel proclaims, overcomes the beasts. The kingdom of God, Daniel’s vision reveals, will not be overcome, no matter what beasts may threaten it. We come together because we can’t do this alone. Even Daniel needed the encouragement and clarity of a witness to help him understand the hope of his vision. None of the brokenness and pain of this world surprises God, and God can handle all of it. And The Holy Ones of God — not the perfect or the pious, but all of God’s beloved, all of us, and all of those who have gone before us and all of us who are called God’s children — will possess that kingdom forever.

And the promise we know in Christ, the promise of our baptisms, is that God can even overcome death. Death will not have the final word. God shows up and breathes in life, just when we least expect it. Debie Thomas, in her blog Journey with Jesus, writes, “Resurrection means living in circumstances that should render living impossible. Resurrection means enduring, overcoming, persisting, and surviving.” Just like new growth always, finally, emerges from garden beds that look as if they will never live again, resurrection often happens when we have no hope left.

We who grieve today, who feel overwhelmed by the beasts and brokenness of this world, can rest in the promise of resurrection. We come together as people of faith, because the promise is for all of us children of God, and just like Daniel, we can see that better as a community. We remember with gratitude our communion of saints, those who have died whose lives touched us in profound ways. And with our saints, we claim the promise of Jesus’ resurrection, and we watch in hope for new life, even when it seems slow in coming.

Paul reminds us that we, and all of those who have gone before us, are beloved children of God, sealed by the Holy Spirit. And we receive his blessing today: “I pray that you may have wisdom in the Holy Spirit, that you may know the hope that you have.” Family of Christ Lutheran, as we in a moment name and remember our beloveds who have died, our hope is in Jesus. And because of that, resurrection is real, even and especially in the face of death.

Thanks be to God.

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2022, Christ Lutheran Church, Webster Groves, sermon, podcast, transcript, Pastor Meagan McLaughlin, COVID-19, coronavirus, pandemic, All Saints' Day, Ephesians 1:11-23, Daniel 7:1-3, 15-18, Debie Thomas, Journey with Jesus