March 10, 2024. Today, the proverbial rubber meets the road. Pastor Meagan urges us to know our own brokenness, like the Israelites being bitten by serpents in our reading from Numbers, and to face it head-on.
 
Readings: Numbers 21:4-9, Ephesians 2:1-10, John 3:14-21
 
*** Transcript ***
 
Some years ago, I did something that hurt someone else. I didn't intend to hurt them. I didn't even realize it at the time. But when it was over, harm had been done. The kind of harm that brings heat to the cheeks and a rock in the gut. Can anyone recognized that? Can anyone identify with that? The kind of harm that leads to a desire to never show my face in public again, at least where that person is concerned. It wasn't the first time and it won't be the last. I am human after all. But this time it felt epic. And when those times come, as they do for all of us, the first thing we want to do is turn away, right? Until we can't.
 
Today on this fourth Sunday of Lent, as we continue to walk the way of the cross, we are called to do something that is, in fact, infinitely harder than anything we've been asked to do so far. Up to this point we have talked about claiming God's love for us and following God's call into the unknown in ways that can be hard and scary. But today, we face the wilderness inside, the brokenness each of us carries as a saint and a sinner, as Luther would say.
 
Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn famously concluded, "When I lay there on rotting prison straw, it was disclosed to me that the line separating good from evil passes not through states or classes, or between political parties either, but right through every human heart — through all human hearts. This line shifts. Inside us, it oscillates with the years. And even within hearts overwhelmed by evil, one small bridgehead of good remains. And even in the best of all hearts, there remains an uprooted small corner of evil."
 
Martin Luther would definitely agree with this. Luther wrote and preached often about the reality of our human condition. We are all saint, and we are all sinner. As humans we have a capacity to love and be in relationship with God and with others, but we also have a capacity to do evil, to sin. And we all need God.
 
The Israelites faced sin in in a rather graphic way, today's reading from Numbers tells us. Poisonous serpents come into the camp biting many of the people, and there is no cure — until Moses, at God's direction, sets a serpent on a pole and commands the people to look at it if they wish to live. In order to be freed of their sin, they have to face it head-on.
 
Oof. That is not an easy task. None of us wants to do that with the pain it brings, right? None of us really wants to know our own brokenness. But that is our invitation today, as uncomfortable as it is. Over time, there have been many ways of understanding and defining sin. We can sometimes think of sin as breaking rules that God has set out for us, not following the Ten Commandments, or things that Jesus taught. German Lutheran theologian Rudolf Bultmann defined sin as dependence on anything that isn't God. Luther, along the same vein, said virtue becomes the worst form of sin, because it leads us to trust ourselves and not Jesus. In The Essential Tillich, Paul Tillich says, "In any case sin is separation. To be in the state of sin is to be in a state of separation . . . among individual lives, separation of a man from himself, and separation of all men from the ground of being," which is God.
 
However we define sin, today our job is, like the Israelites millennia ago: face our brokenness head-on. We've been untruthful at times, with ourselves, God, and others. We have put our trust in our own abilities, or on other people's opinions of us, or things we get from this world. And we've disregarded our need for God. We have stood to the side while hunger, homelessness, and violence rage around us. We have harmed others by letting the injustice of poverty, racism, sexism, and other forms of oppression in our world go unchecked. We have failed to face our own sin, our own complicity in the brokenness of this world, because it feels easier sometimes not to look. Right? Despite our own reluctance, like the Israelites we are called today to gaze at the serpent and know that we too have sinned, and we too need God.
 
In the end, as Jesus tells us in the Gospel of John today, we Christians look to the cross. We know our own sinfulness. And while we gaze at the broken body of Christ, we hear the echo of Jesus' words of promise: "For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish, but have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him."
 
Today, the proverbial rubber meets the road. And we recognize in a profound way that as Luther taught: resurrection, new life, comes not through easy peace and perfection, but through the cross. We know the truth of Paul's words in his letter to the Ephesians: "But God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which he loved us even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ." Where there is brokenness and pain, God is there bringing life, healing, and love in the midst of suffering. So we can face our brokenness, ask God for forgiveness and help, knowing that God's mercy will not fail us. For God so loved the world.
 
Thanks be to God.
 
*** Keywords ***
 
2024, Christ Lutheran Church, Webster Groves, Pastor Meagan McLaughlin, Numbers 21:4-9, Ephesians 2:1-10, John 3:14-21, Paul Tillich, The Essential Tillich, Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, snakes, Rudolf Bultmann

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

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

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

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. *** Keywords *** 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