Physical Therapy

Sermon prepared for Messiah Lutheran Church, Auburn WA
by Pastor Greg Kaurin
April 18, 2010

Text: John 21:1-19

Physical Therapy

They counted them: 153 large fish. For 2000 years, people have puzzled over the meaning of that number, 153; I think it was just John’s way of describing their surprise and his memory, “I was there, and I remember it exactly. We counted them…153 fish!”

And then, this exchange between Peter and Jesus. Every year, something new occurs to me. This year, it’s when Jesus asked Peter, “Simon Peter, do you love me more than these?” There’s a couple possible ways to read that question, and both are meaningful. Jesus could have been asking, “Look at all this, Peter, your old life, fishing with nets, the boat, the beach, the comfort of these friends, but do you love me more, enough to leave this behind?” Three years earlier, Jesus performed this same miracle and called Peter and some of the others to follow him, “And,” Jesus said, “you will be fishing for people.” Jesus might have been asking Peter, “Are you ready, now?”

The other possible meaning is that Jesus may have been reminding Peter of the time, just before the arrest and crucifixion. Peter had boasted to Jesus and said, “Even if all these others fall away, I will never desert you” (Matthew 26:33)! I love you more the most, Lord! That very same night, it was Peter who denied even knowing Jesus… three times.

You know, even after that strange and wonderful Easter day, the Appearances to the disciples, and last week to Thomas, this had to be eating at Peter. He had to be wondering every time the risen Christ looked at him, “Does Jesus know: how I ran and hid like the rest, and what I said?” So, Jesus chose this moment to uncover that wound.

There on the beach Jesus asked him the first time, “Do you really love me, Simon Peter, more than these?”
“Yes, Lord, you know I do.”
“Then, (1) feed my lambs. Simon, son of John, do you love me?”
“Yes, Lord, you know I love you.”
(2) “Tend my sheep.” And finally Jesus matched Peter’s denials asking once more, “Simon, Son of John, you love me?”
“Come on, Lord, you know everything. Yes, I Iove you.”
And Jesus answered, (3) “Feed my sheep.”

We could dig into the fact that in the Greek New Testament, Peter and Jesus were each using different words for love. Jesus was asking for agape, or selfless love, and Peter kept coming back at him with philos, or friendship. There are some great insights to draw from that. But the main thing to point out is that for the three times he denied Jesus, Jesus let him to counter each with a statement of love. But Jesus did even more. He added mission, something to do to get Peter moving.

After a knee or hip replacement, what do doctors want you to do as soon as possible? To get it moving. Very soon you’re into physical therapy. Why? They don’t want your joint to freeze or muscles to atrophy.

T3his can happen spiritually. Even after blowing it, and receiving grace, and hearing forgiveness, we can still get stuck. We can keep returning to that sin, that ache, confessing it again, and hearing the words of forgiveness, again and again. And sometimes we wonder why we just can’t seem to let it go. Why do we sometimes have such a hard time taking God at his word, letting go of something, and moving on?

Or, worse, is to be the person who maybe never denied Jesus the way Peter did, or never ran away like the Prodigal Son, and each week returns to hear how much God loves them, and each week sings the songs, hears a nice sermon about Jesus’ love, and walks home, week after week, (sigh) basically unchanged.

One of my classmates is a professor now at Luther Seminary, David Lose. For the last year he’s been looking at studies on happiness and fulfillment, both in the secular world and the spiritual. The two primary things we seek, or that can help us feel happy or fulfilled are no surprise at all:
1) Community: do I feel like there are people who love and support me?
2) Purpose: do I have a sense that what I do matters.

What did Jesus give Peter that morning? He restored their relationship. “Simon Peter, do you love me?” “Yes, Lord, I love you.” Community. That is what is meant to happen here each Sunday, with Christ, and with each other. The peace of the Lord be with you all! [And also with you.] And then we exchange it; we are in Community with God and with each other.

And then, at the end of worship we say, “Go in peace” and do what? [Serve the Lord.] Thanks be to God. Purpose. Jesus said it this way to Simon Peter: Feed my lambs. Tend my sheep. Feed my sheep.

My friend from seminary also mentioned results from a survey taken of churchgoers in the United Kingdom. The results start out pretty good. Of those who regularly and voluntarily go to church, 96% say they look forward to hearing the message. Wow! It’s not always the top reason why they go to church, but 96% look forward to hearing what their preacher might have to say. But before any of us get too puffy, the survey also asked how clearly their preacher communicated God’s love. What percent would you guess? 60% of those surveyed said their preacher clearly communicates how much God loves them. Okay, considering all the different takes and preachers and denominations, that’s not horrible… unless you’re in the 40%.
Finally the survey asked whether the messages they’ve heard have had influence or somehow changed the way they lived. What would you guess for that? 17%. 96% look forward to it, 60% hear God’s love in it, but 83% walk away, Sunday after Sunday, basically unchanged, unaffected.

Several years ago, I was riding in one of our member’s pick-up trucks. We had been talking about prayer, and he said he was struggling with it. On the other hand, this was the same man who was constantly doing things for others and the church, because, he said, he felt close to God when he was doing it, could feel Jesus presence when he was helping and talking with them. Well, what do you think that is? That’s prayer, living prayer.

God opened the conversation when he first made you. He cleared the lines by forgiving and saving you, and promising that nothing would come between you, Romans, chapter 8. And now, what you say, whatever you do with your life is a response to him, for good or bad, we answer God with our lives.

What Peter in our gospel lesson needed to hear from Jesus was release. He could let go of his internal fears and worry, and then put that release in motion. He needed a new direction: to tend and feed others. Even after hearing forgiveness, we can still be stuck on ourselves, our own lives. Imagine a bird, you’ve nurtured it back to health. It should be ready to fly, so you open it’s cage, …and it sits there looking at you. This can happen to people or groups or churches.

We were put here for a reason, not just to be saved, not just to sing and worship. (“Yes, Lord, yes you know we love you!”) but also to take care of each other, to love and tend to the people God puts in our path, to do things that help suffering around the world.

This is our physical therapy. Probably one of the strongest units I know is right here. Messiah Lutheran Church of Auburn, WA. We do a lot of things well, and I’m sure there are many churches that outstrip us on the rest. But let that go. We don’t have to become the best in class; God won’t be impressed by how nearly perfect our work or results are. And he doesn’t want us to run higgly-piggly doing good, but to focus: Are we feeding God’s little ones? Literally and spiritually, are we feeding them? Are we tending the larger herd, the sheep, and feeding them? Are you? You could be quietly blessing or praying for each person as you meet them. Or working with someone specific.

You and I can do great things, but the greatest thing we can do is to show and tell someone that we care, and that God loves them. If one person is worth celebrating in God’s kingdom, then he or she is worth our patience and our time.

Let me be clear, you are loved by God, you are forgiven. That’s why we can say, “Go in peace.” You have community. You also have a purpose. You matter, and what you do matters. Your life is prayer. One of the reasons you are here this morning is to tell God how much you love him. Now, go and show him.

Not Among These Bones

Sermon prepared for Messiah Lutheran Church, Auburn WA
by Pastor Greg Kaurin
Easter Sunday, April 4, 2010

Text: John 20:1-18

Not Among These Bones

Last Friday the message was about Jesus' atonement; we talked about why the blood, why the sacrifice, and how God was joined in that moment with sufferers and sinners. This morning is about the rising, the declaration of his victory. And it tells us very clearly where to look to find Christ.

If you were here on Friday noon or evening, you've already heard this little story, but it fits Easter, too. Our two boys, Mac and Trevan, go to a Christian preschool/daycare, and they've been talking about Easter. So, less than a week ago, before bedtime, Mac, who's a little over 5, was telling me about his day, and he gave me his permission to tell you; in fact, he just about commanded it.

He said to me, "Dad, did you know: Jesus died for our sins?"

"Well, I think I heard something about that. Can you tell me more?"

"Yes, and after that, they went to his grave, and it was empty, ...because he was alive."

"That's great news, Mac!"

"Yes... And, Dad, you need to tell the people at church!"

"You're right, Mac, I probably should.”

But Mac was still looking at me as if I wasn't really getting the importance of what he was telling me. Finally, he added, "Because the other stuff you've been telling them is all wrong!"

Mac is right about the central message, and depending on how I say it, or how it's heard, the rest could all be just words, old bones, relics and myths from almost 2000 years ago. For many of you, you're here this morning because you believe that there is something to this dying and rising that's worth celebrating and singing. Others of you have your doubts, and everything in between. And all of us are welcome, just like the morning in our gospel, at Jesus' tomb.

The gospels tell us how Jesus' body was taken down and quickly wrapped and put in a tomb just before sundown on Friday when Sabbath began, and that the women watched and saw where they laid him. Then, before the first rays of light, Mary of Magdala, along with Joanna, Salome, and Mary the mother of James, and the Bible says several other women, all went together to finish caring for Jesus' body.

They went expecting to find his body where he was laid, in the tomb of a cemetery, among the bones. Instead, they find the tomb open. The other gospels, Matthew, Mark and Luke, speak of angels, men in brilliant cloth, asking them, "Why are you looking among the dead for someone who is alive? He's going ahead; you'll find him in Galilee. Go and tell the others."

And the reactions are across the board. Mark tells us that the women, or at least most of them were too afraid to say anything. Luke tells us that when Mary Magdalene and the others do tell the eleven, most dismiss them as a bunch of wishful women, an idle tale.

In John's gospel when Mary tells Peter and the other disciple, she didn't mention any angelic appearances. She herself did not believe, but was still convinced that someone had taken Jesus' body. Out from the eleven, our gospel tells us Peter and the other disciple, most of us assume John, ran to the tomb to see for themselves. John got there first and Peter barged past into the tomb. Finally, John joined him, saw the folded cloths, and in some small way, began to believe.

My point is that, based on the empty tomb and maybe even visions of angelic men, reactions were across the board, and for the most part, doubtful. Some were upset and angry that another injustice had been done to their rabbi, his body taken. Where; why? It belonged where they left it, among the dead.

Mary Magdalene was so sure of his death, even when Jesus stood right in front of her, she assumed he must be the gardener. "Tell me where you put him, so I can get his body, and put it back where it belongs." Here is the scene in the window to my right when Jesus said her name, and by the sound of his voice, she finally recognized her beloved Rabbi.

There are at least six Marys in the New Testament, and it's easy to confuse them: 1) Mary the mother of Jesus, 2) Mary of Magdala, 3) Mary the mother of James and Joset, who may also have been the wife of Clopas. There were two more Marys in 4) the book of Acts and 5) the letters of Paul.

Pr. Jon and I were batting this back and forth, and it occured to us that one of the Marys we most expected isn't in the list. And if she had been there, she would have been mentioned. 6) Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazareth. Neither she nor her sister are mentioned, and they lived in Bethany, a little more than two miles from the outskirts of Jerusalem where Jesus was killed and buried.

Some time before, Jesus ate at their house when Mary sat at as his feet listening to Jesus teach and leaving her sister, Martha doing all the work. Then, Jesus called Lazarus, their brother out of his tomb and back to life. And just a few days before he was arrested, Jesus was again in their house when Mary came in and anointed Jesus feet with ointment, rubbing his feet with her hair.

It's interesting that this Mary, so close to Jesus, and living so nearby to all this, goes unmentioned, neither at the crucifixion nor among the women who went to his tomb. Maybe she was just too heartbroken, and couldn't bear to be at his crucifixion, or to look at or touch his broken body.

But Pr. Jon and I were wondering if maybe, perhaps, as a witness to what Jesus did for her brother, and having heard his words, maybe because of all this, Mary already knew better than to look for Jesus among the dead, among bones. Not that she would've known exactly how or when, but that she now had a deeper faith, like Abraham's, that trusted the words Jesus had said at Lazarus' tomb, John 11:25, when Jesus said, "I am the resurrection and the life."

Jesus was not and is not found among the bones. Jesus comes in living form, sometimes with healing, and sometimes with wounds. He may be in the form of a gardener, or a teacher, a spouse, a child with a skinned knee, a cousin or friend, or a stranger, just someone reaching out to you. I hope you can listen and see a little clearer that it is more than a stranger or friend in front of you, but Jesus, who comes in the continued flesh of God through people. He is a God of the living.

Like the women and men who first heard about an empty tomb on that first Easter, it is no different today, all the same spectrum of disbelief, doubt, hope and faith. If you are wondering, or hoping or feeling it slip away, just think: if what we are saying is at all true, then it is probably worth looking into, deeper than what we can do on Easter morning. Come and listen, you might come to the ALPHA classes that are starting a week after this Tuesday night. That's exactly what ALPHA is for, to listen and question and consider for yourself whether this is an idle tale, or worth looking into.

For others of you, I pray this Easter day is like a brand new resurrection, with new life, and new eyesight to look at your world to discover that once again, Jesus is Lord over death. He is alive, and running ahead of us, to all the places he wants us to meet him and to find him.

6:30 AM this morning, Pr. Jon met in Mt. View Cemetery, overlooking Auburn, reading these same words. And the same message could be said there about Jesus. Where is Jesus? Not here among the bones, but look for him, he's gone ahead of you, down in the valley, in the town among the living, back among those who need him. Look for Jesus there, in the living.

“God of all grace, you sent your Son, our Savior Jesus Christ, to bring life and immortality to light. We give you thanks because by his death Jesus destroyed the power of death and by his resurrection has opened the kingdom of heaven to all believers. Make us certain that because he lives we shall live also, and that neither death nor life, nor things present nor things to come shall be able to separate us from your love which is in Christ Jesus our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.” – prayer from “Burial of the Dead,” Lutheran Book of Worship, ©1978.

A Lenten Joy

Sermon prepared for Messiah Lutheran Church, Auburn WA
by Pastor Greg Kaurin
Palm/Passion Sunday, March 28, 2010

Text: Luke 22:14-30

A Lenten Joy

There is a novel about Martin Luther's wife, Katherine, titled, Kitty, My Rib. The author says that Luther was in one of his darker moments, moping about the house and staring at walls, until one day Katherine dressed in black and put a dark veil over face. Luther was surprised and asked if she on her way out to a funeral. "No," she answered, "but the way you've been acting, you've convinced me that God must be dead, and I thought I should join you in mourning."

She made her point. "Go change your clothes; and I'll get back to work," he said.

This is Palm Sunday or sometimes known as Passion Sunday. It is one of the strangest to plan because, first, just before we move into Holy Week, Jesus' walk to the cross, we start with this triumphant ride into Jerusalem, where people shouted “Hosanna!” and hailed him as the one who comes in the name of the Lord.

And I've always found it almost painfully ironic knowing how quickly this very same crowd would be shouting for his crucifixion, just a few blocks from where they stood. It's tempting to be cynical about it. Is this really the crowd we want to imitate?

But look at Jesus. Jesus knew all this. He knew what they would do, and still he rode that donkey, and received and blessed their songs. Because he loved them.

Then, just a bit later he would be in that upper room with his disciples, and even though he knew it was the last, look again at his words from Luke 22:15, "I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer." Eagerly desired. Other translations say he longed to eat this meal with them. When? "Before I suffer," Jesus said. How can you eagerly desire what you know will be your last meal?

Two things come to mind. First, Jesus, knowing it would be the last, treasured it, every second. In spite of knowing that Judas was sitting there with betrayal in his heart, in spite of fickle crowds, Jesus treasured that moment, even at his Last Supper.

And second, he knew that he was adding new meaning to this sacred meal. “This is my body, the blood of a new covenant, do this--whenever you eat and drink of it--in remembrance of me.” I have to believe, Jesus Christ, in that moment was not only sitting at the table with the twelve, but was seeing and talking to all of us, today and this coming Maundy Thursday.

When Jesus looked around that table, he saw Peter and James, Thomas and Judas, Greg and Pauline, Jim and Sophie... Me and you. And his heart, his God-size heart was filled with joy and love.

Next, skip a few more verses to Luke 22:28-29. Jesus said, "You are those who have stood by me in my trials; and I confer on you, just as my Father has conferred on me, a kingdom." Again, you have to keep in mind that Judas is about to betray Jesus, the disciples are going to scatter and hide. Peter is going to deny even knowing Jesus, and still Jesus said, "You are the ones who have stood by me... in my trials."

He knows how many times they will fall, how many times you and I fall short of such praise, and he is already forgiving, lifting, and strengthening, so that we can stand by him, and by others, in their trials. What gave him the strength? A deep compassionate joy, gratefulness for the time he had, a love.

I have titled this sermon, "A Lenten Joy" not to skip over the Via Dolorosa, the Path of Grief, that Jesus walked, but because this Lenten journey is not just pretending. Jesus was letting them know and setting the stage for his crucifixion, but also for his victory on the cross. The reason we walk the Via Dolorosa with Jesus is to enter more deeply into his passion, to discover how deeply and painfully God loves us. But the only reason we can walk that path is because the Via Dolorosa is also the path to victory.

As we get closer to the cross, I hope two things are happening for you this Lent, two things held in tension. First, I pray that the passion of Jesus, his suffering, cords and whips, each one, I pray that we remember: we did this to him, to our God. We do this to him, in every selfish turn we make. It should bring us to our knees.

Last Thursday morning in our Bible study, I said there should be fear and trembling in God's presence. We have no right to stand before him... We did this to him. We have no right to stand on this Rock of ages. ...Except that he was cleft, broken, for me. We have no right, and no righteousness of our own, ...except by his forgiveness, for his disciples, for the crowds, and us. We say that Jesus died for our sins, and that is true, and that is forgiveness. But more to the point, Jesus died for us, and that is love.

The second thing we can hold in tension is a deep abiding joy. "Amazing love, how can it be, that you my King would die for me?" The closer we get to his cross, the more this can build in us, Love so amazing, Jesus Messiah, my Savior.

The old traditional hymn sings about it in "O Sacred Head, Now Wounded." In your mind, look at your Savior, blood and spit running down, let your heart sing these words, "O sacred head, what glory, what bliss till now was thine / Yet, tho' despised and gory, I joy to call thee mine!" I joy! Right there, even in the heart of the crucifixion, Christian joy. A pride and joy, brave victory: "That's my King; that's my God up there! He did that for us!"

We aren't here to pretend. We live on this side of the resurrection. He will rise again, and give his disciples ...the eternal kingdom. Will any other god do this? Will fame or power? Will popularity or self pity? Will alcohol or self-indulgence? We would have no right to approach God's throne except that he cleaned us up, gave us Christ's victory, and called us to approach as his disciples and children, with boldness, the boldness of his Spirit, living in us.

This whole season of Lent, Sundays at our 8:15 worship, I've been especially struck by the Lenten Preface. It's a prayer before Communion that sings, "You bid your people cleanse their hearts and prepare with joy for the paschal feast." Maybe you didn’t know this, but in the mainline worship during Lent, we are supposed to refrain from saying or singing the a-l-l-e-l-u-i-a-word. I always have to grin a little whenever it slips in.

In the extreme, some have often wanted to cast a funeral pall over the whole season, no celebration. Kind of like Katy Luther wearing black, as if God died, or that Jesus never rose. Or as if his sacrifice wasn't quite enough so we need to keep sacrificing and groveling in shame.

I do feel we take seriously the need to use Lent to reflect and confess more honestly, to cleanse our hearts and enter the disciplines more deeply. Kind of like having soup for dinner, I think there should be a yearly paring down and getting back to basics. You know that, especially if you've been worshiping on Wednesdays with us.

But does this prayer say, "Prepare with shame and guilt?" No, here's a Lenten discipline that needs to be heard, "prepare with joy for the paschal feast." The Paschal is the Christian feast that completes the Passover, the Seder! It's the feast of victory every Sunday, and the feast to come. Christ ransomed us for heaven; he rescued us from sin, so Lent is a time to let go of the things hold us down, to clean house and to prepare our hearts with joy, with a building-Lenten joy that knows that because of the cross, we are bound for glory. Jesus did not stay down. Neither will we.

And so, that old Lenten Preface finishes, "Renew our zeal in faith and life, and bring us to the fullness of grace that belongs to the children of God." "That belongs to the children" not because we earned it, but because Christ did, and gave it to us. What did he say in our gospel? "I confer on you...a kingdom."

And I love that word, zeal. You have to do what it says. Say it once like this, ZEAL! What did it make your mouth do? Grin a big toothy grin. And zeal is a fighting grin that doesn't give up. In this context, it's a Lenten joy. [Up on screen: "Lenten Joy" - is a building trust and anticipation for the Victory of Jesus' Cross.]

Last Wednesday, before evening worship, I went for a run on the Inter-urban trail here in town. I had my earphones on, and my music was set for some of my favorite praise songs. Even though it was sunny when I started, not many others were out, so I was singing along, (a little out of breath) and of course, one of the songs started singing the a-l-l-e-l-u-i-a word, and I was singing along, ...not thinking about it, feeling good, till suddenly it got a little dark, a chill breeze, and rain started down. “Oops, sorry God. Didn’t mean to praise you… with that word…”

I joke a little; we don't need to take offense or gasp during Lent at these faux pas, but a little restraint, a little fasting is a good thing to build the awareness, the growing suspense and joy for Easter when after Jesus achieves his victory on the cross, then we can bust that word out in full congregational volume: "Jesus Christ is risen today! ..." ah-uh-uh; wait for it! First, let's eat a little, then walk with Jesus. This is the via dolorosa; and it is the path to victory.

Time to Compost

Sermon prepared for Messiah Lutheran Church, Auburn WA

by Gregory S. Kaurin, Pastor

3-7-10

Text: Luke 13:1-9

Time to Compost

I’ve been able to get into this parable for a couple reasons. Yesterday was, actually, a great day for composting. The boys got themselves good and muddy while Pauline and I worked our compost into the garden. 

Second, we have an apple tree that we’ve been trying to save and train. We moved in about seven years ago when it was growing at a horrible slant to the ground. I remember my father-in-law looked at it and said it needed to be replaced, but that just made it a challenge. 

I worked and shifted the ground around the roots, so that we could gently ease it up and anchor it upright. But we usually get no more than a couple apples. We’ve added fertilizer, pruned it, without result. Now we’ve got most of the branches spread and growing horizontal to the ground… maybe this year. If not this year, then next. 

Apparently, I have a thing for our sick little fruit trees. Near the apple tree is a little cherry tree standing chest high that someone apparently hacked on or ran into with something. Most of the main trunk had died by the time we got it, but a living portion and branches were coming up from the root and have been slowly enveloping the old trunk. Again, the cherries are few, and those we get aren’t great for much except for vinegar or other kinds of infusions. And last spring, I started a doubtful experiment with a cutting from a pear tree. Doesn’t have much chance, and I was ready to pull it up last fall, but Pauline told me to leave it for a year, and that sounded so Biblical, I decided I’d better give it that chance.

But why? Why work so hard for what is clearly, in my case, not about productivity. The vineyard owner was right, at least from his perspective. It’s wasted space; cut it down!

The more I’ve turned this passage over, the more I’m deciding that it doesn’t seem to work to try to figure out exactly who each character represents. Some say the owner is God, and Jesus is the gardener, we’re the tree, grace and forgiveness is the manure…it’s just not working for me. Instead, he just seemed to lift it up as a real-life example of patience. It’s kind of like Jesus is saying that, just as a gardener is patient and skilled, how much more God must be as he waits for fruit.

And the other interesting thing is that it’s a cliffhanger. What happens the following year? Will it give fruit? Does it get cut down? So then, what might God do to us? Keep that in mind; we’ll come back to it.

First, I think we need to look at the verses just before the parable again. Only Luke mentions this; it was recent local news, breaking news that was brought to Jesus, but the real question or assumption was there, that maybe it was just as well: did those Galileans deserve what they got? Listen [again] to Luke 13:1-5 [from the Message].

“About that time some people came up and told [Jesus] about the Galileans Pilate had killed while they were at worship, mixing their blood with the blood of the sacrifices on the altar. Jesus responded, ‘Do you think those murdered Galileans were worse sinners than all the other Galileans? Not at all. [But] Unless you turn to God, you, too, will die. And those eighteen in Jerusalem the other day, [Jesus goes on,] the ones crushed and killed when the Tower of Siloam collapsed and fell on them, do you think they were worse citizens than all the other Jerusalemites? Not at all. [But,] unless you turn to God, you, too, will die.”

People look at these tragedies and wonder about God; maybe they deserved it, some divine wrath? And Jesus answers, “No, this wasn’t wrath; they weren’t any better or worse than those around them.”

But almost in the same breath and sentence, Jesus tells them, warns us, that unless we are turning to God, what is our path? Where’s it lead? To death, down into death’s dark valley. What was Jesus saying to those news-bearers?

See, this happens. They were on the hype of rumors and speculation, and mentally trying to separate themselves from those that died. Why them, and not me? Maybe somehow they deserved it, those Galileans. Them.

I think of the earthquakes in Haiti, then jumping over to Chile, Japan, and Taiwan as people are trying to make sense. Maybe you heard Pat Robertson talking about some old pact with the devil. Or, folks blaming other folks for living where they do, such as living on this ring of fire, or near the coast or active volcanos, or on flood plains. Do they deserve what they get? Are they worse sinners? How did Jesus answer that? Not at all, it’s not about that.

As I have chewed on this text, I feel like Jesus is saying, “Stop worrying about making sure that you somehow stand above, are smarter, outrank, are better or more pure than this or that group. Instead, simply come to God knowing that we are sinners, in every aspect of our lives in need of forgiveness, and in need of the Spirit’s strength and direction to get out of our Valley.

In a very startling way, Jesus was trying to say, “It is not about them. I’m interested in you. Let go of your deadly comparisons and pride, then follow me from death into life.”

And then he tells this story about a gardener who was patient with a fruitless tree for at least a year, worked in the manure, grace, patience and forgiveness like compost…but then Jesus left its fate up in the air. What happened the following year? Did the tree give fruit? Did the gardener ask for more time, or let the owner take it out?

I’ve been thinking about some of what Pastor Jon was talking about on Wednesday with our meditation on the 23^rd Psalm, how Jesus, our Lord and Good Shepherd, walks with us even through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. Even as life gives us—or we choose—Dark Paths, we have a Shepherd who doesn’t abandon us to them, sends goodness and mercy chasing after us, when? All the days of my life.

And last night it suddenly occurred to me that Jesus gave an unbelieveable ending to the cliffhanger for the tree. A normal owner would tear it out. A normal gardener might give it a year, maybe two. But Jesus decided not to abandon it at all. It was the tree, the image of Jesus on the tree that came to me. The fate of the tree was going to be death, period. Except that Christ became the tree, hung himself from it, died for it and with it. The tree dies. But, the so-called fertilizer is more than patience and forgiveness. It is his sacrifice, his blood. And as he was raised from the dead, the tree is given a new life.

What does it mean? It means we are called just like those who listened to Jesus to let go of trying to make ourselves worthy. The gospel of grace does not depend on our purity or righteousness. Truly experiencing his grace depends on realizing that I am not somehow a touch or a grade better than anyone, but like everyone, I am far short of God’s glory, lacking enough fruit to make up for the space I take up in his vineyard. Only Christ’s life saves me, only his work through me provides any of the fruit I long to give. And only his life brought me back to life. Thanks be to God. All thanks be to God. Amen.

Refraction and Reflection

Sermon Prepared for Messiah Lutheran Church

Auburn WA, February 14, 2010 – Transfiguration

by Gregory S. Kaurin, Senior Pastor

Texts: 2 Corinthians 3:16 - 4:2 and Luke 9:28-36

"Refraction & Reflection"

Over these last several weeks, we’ve been talking about "re-tion" words, words that start with the prefix "re-" and end with the suffix "-tion." Before finishing with "refraction and reflection," let’s do a quick review of the main words and points.

We started with restoration. Restoration isn’t about going back to the old days; they’re gone. It is an honest look at what I bring into this moment, and what I have to let go of, in order to move forward from here on my journey with Christ. Second was rejuvenation: knowing that I’ve been saved and forgiven, Jesus laughs and calls me to skip with him. To be young in heart, always.

Third, on Word of God Sunday, we spoke of revelation of scripture. The Bible’s job is to reveal, to introduce us to Christ, and to help us get to know him better. Fourth, on that same Sunday, we talked about the respiration of scripture. We are called to let God’s Spirit inspire—or breath into—us through the scriptures, so that he will be able to exhale through our lives. Bible reading is our Christian respiration of God’s Holy Spirit.

Fifth, last week, we spoke of renunciation, how we, like Isaiah and Peter, are called to renounce ourselves, the powers of evil, the devil, and all his empty promises, …with God’s help. Sixth we can trust the full remission of our sins; they are remitted to the cross, and we have been re-missioned, sent anew, to proclaim the good news of forgiveness—through Jesus Christ—to others.

Put it all together: we have been 1. restored, given our place as God’s Children, and eternally 2. rejuvenated by Christ as he is 3. revealed to us through the 4. breathing in and out, the respiration, of the Holy Scriptures, which gives us the ability and courage to 5. renounce our selfish concerns and desires, and instead we have been given a new mission, or 6. re-missioned, to spread his gospel. I bet you didn’t know there was a logical flow to all this!

But how? How will we spread this gospel? Through refraction and reflection, our last two "re-tion" words. Refraction as a spiritual idea is interesting. In the world, refraction is the change in direction of waves caused by a change in speed—sound waves, light waves, or even water.

Here’s the mathematical equation for refraction…

and if that doesn’t clear it up, let me graph it (click) for you:

Okay, I didn’t get past Algebra 3 or Trigonometry, so I haven’t got a clue what I’m looking at there.

Instead, let’s take a look at what we see in the world as a result of refraction. When you put a straw in a glass of water, what seems to happen to the straw? It looks like it bends from the top or breaks from the side. That’s refraction. Or, because of the way refraction bends light into its full spectrum, what do we sometimes see when sunlight bounces back to us from rain or water drops in the sky? A rainbow. That’s a result of refraction.

But here’s where I think it gets even more interesting, and beautiful, and more pertinent to our discussion today. This is a photograph by Mila Zinkova. At first you might just see raindrops with a blurry image of the Golden Gate Bridge behind them, but look in the raindrops. What do you see there? Little bent images of the bridge. One of the neat things that photographers can do is catch an image refracted from somewhere else, seemingly displaced in a water drop. Here’s one by D. Sharon Pruitt that captures a flower print from somewhere below the water drop.

I could do this all day, but I need to get to my point. It’s about the way our actions and lives affect others, and how Christ connects us to the Kingdom. Refraction. We might otherwise, all of us, continue on in straight lines, but something, or someone, moves in our way, or slows us down, and we are forced to change direction, and we—in turn—affect other people’s lives in good or bad ways.

It seems like an obvious point, I realize, but too often, we like to pretend that my life is my own concern, that what I decide to do or not do will only affect me. I’m responsible for my own actions, so what right do you have to try to tell me how I should live my life? So, he parties late, drinks another and gets into his car and drives home. And what happens? Maybe nothing that night. But how does he treat people at home once he gets there. Or not treat them? Or worse: he gets in an accident and injures or kills himself, or someone else. What happens to his life, or to hers, or to the people around them? His decision and actions will forever be refracting on them, and on from there.

Even the quiet things that you want to imagine no one sees or knows about. They affect you, and you will in turn affect even people you just meet, talk to, or choose not to talk to. Some people call it negative or positive energy. I don’t think it’s magic or or ESP, but I know it’s real. It is how our spirits are connected, and the refractive way we cast light or shadow all around us.

It works in the positive, too. Do you know the number one proven way that causes people to quit smoking? When their friends or even just acquaintances quit. In a couple of studies, they’ve even been able to chart ripple effects to show how one person who quits smoking over here eventually leads to this person quitting over here, even if they never met. That’s smoking, addiction. What about common behavior?

In the movie Gladiator, maybe you remember when Maximus calls out to his troops that "What you do in life echoes in eternity." There’s truth to it in two ways. First, what we do sets off an ongoing series of results. The fact that you are here today, and not somewhere else, changes your life in ways you cannot ever know, and other lives around you long after you leave.

Second, this world is connected to the Kingdom Jesus was always preaching about. He talked about how the Kingdom is brought near when we accept a child in his name, or offer a cup of cold water, or bless someone, or when two or more gather in his name. The eternal Kingdom is refracted into ours in that moment, and it affects us in more ways than we might realize. And then we become those water droplets, with the Kingdom in us, touching still others’ lives.

That’s why I like this idea of refraction; it is bending the light of Christ and the Kingdom and bringing it into the shadows, sometimes with words and actions, and still other times simply by being there. God’s Spirit can refract his light in powerful positive ways. Thank God that we get to be a part of that! Say, "Thank you, God!"

That’s why we’re told to show our joy. "Rejoice," Paul said, "and again I say, Rejoice!" (Philippians 4:4) That’s why we take initiative when we see that someone is down or hurting or alone. That’s why we will encourage even perfect strangers with just a word of kindness or a smile. It’s why we pray, asking God to work through us, and through Messiah Lutheran Church. We want to refract his Kingdom into this world and watch the light show! Again, we get to be a part of this, so say, "Thank you, Lord!"

But if this idea of refraction is too big or strange, then I think it is just as good to keep it simple and remember that we are called to reflect our Savior, our Christianity through our lives. We say it at Baptism, let others see your good works and give glory to whom? To God. When we feel or see or hear beauty in this church, we know whom to thank. We may thank the singers or the choir for being the instruments for reflecting and connecting us to the Kingdom for a moment, but all our praise and amen’s belong to? …to God.

We don’t have complete control over all these refractive and reflective moments. But I’ve already mentioned that Jesus gave us many instances when he promised to be near, in worship and prayer, in kindness and giving, in accepting or blessing a child in his name, in forgiving, in reading his scripture, in holy or praiseful song, or whenever we invite him to share in our grief or joy.

We were made in God’s image, really to be the image, the reflection, of God our Father. The Fall stole that image, or blurred it. It is Christ, his forgiveness, that allows it through again, so that when we do these things, when we sing to his glory, and later sit and listen to someone who is hurting, like so many of you do, then when that person looks at you, they see a reflection of someone even more than you, they experience God… the true God who loves them, cares for them, as if they were loveable, worthwhile, … and even forgivable.

We are never called to sit on the mountaintop. Like Moses, like Jesus and the disciples, we come down every Sunday, and go into the mission field, and through the ways we respond to whatever we bring from here, others will see an ambient glory shining off of us, not our light, but from Jesus, off of us and into their lives.

And thank the Lord, we get to be a part of this. Say, "Thank you, Jesus." Amen.