Showing posts with label baptism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label baptism. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 1, 2017

Dust in the Hands of a Loving God

The Rev. Kathi Johnson
Ash Wednesday – 1 March 2017
Text: 2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10
Our Redeemer Lutheran Church, Grand Prairie, Texas

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Our New Testament lesson today recognizes a very important reality for people of faith: it recognizes that we live in a world that is filled with difficulties. In this lesson, Paul lists off what he’s had to endure: afflictions, hardships, calamities, beatings, imprisonments, riots, labors, sleepless nights, hunger. He’s been dishonored, treated as an imposter, and practically dead. He’s been through some things.

Ash Wednesday recognizes some important realities for people of faith, too: it reminds us that we are dust and will return to dust – an important reminder of our humanity. But the ashes that we receive are not merely left in a heap upon our heads, the ashes are placed in the shape of a cross – as a reminder that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. And Christ died for us because of God’s great love for us.

There are several circumstances in my ministry in which I place crosses on people’s foreheads. The first is when I baptize someone – after the water has been poured over them, I mark them with the cross of Christ. I also mark a cross on the foreheads of people during times of prayer or when we are asking God’s blessing upon someone. I’ve marked crosses on the foreheads of people near death. And each year, on Ash Wednesday, I mark crosses of ash on your foreheads, and I say the ancient words: “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”

Remember that you are dust. 

It can be difficult to think about this – to remember that we are dust. In our New Testament lesson today, Paul says that we possess everything, which seems to stand in contrast to remembering that we are dust. Dust seems so impermanent – you blow on it, and it scatters.

But the sign of the cross reminds us again and again that, even though we are dust, we do have everything, because we have Christ. It’s almost as if God takes all of us who are dust, collects us together, and shapes us into a new creation through Christ. We may be dust, but we are dust in the hands of a loving God.


Remember that you are dust – dust in the hands of a loving God, who will never let you go.

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Sunday, January 11, 2015

The Day of Beginnings

The site where Jesus was baptized by John.






Baptism of Our Lord, Year B – January 11, 2015
Our Redeemer Lutheran Church, Grand Prairie, Texas

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Grace and mercy and peace are yours, through God our Father, and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

Today could very well be called “The Day of Beginnings” – just look at our Old Testament lesson from Genesis and our Gospel lesson from Mark. Both are from chapter one of each book; both begin with beginnings:

Genesis begins: “In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth…” and then we hear of that first day of Creation, when a wind from God – or the Spirit of God – swept over those first waters. And then the voice of God creates light. God separates light from darkness – Day and Night - and it is good.

It was the beginning – the beginning of everything! - and when we are at the beginning, anything is possible. But, for that time, anyway – it was all still good.

The story of our beginning continues on: God spends five more days putting Creation into place: the skies, the stars, the moon, and everything that dwells upon this planet that we call “Home” – every creature that flies in the air and swims the sea and every creature that wanders over land. And then, of course, God creates the first two humans. And God calls all of this “very good” and decides to rest for a day.

It doesn’t take long for the goodness of Creation to turn bad, and sin enters the world when the first humans decide to take matters into their own hands. Throughout time and over and over again, humans walk in sinfulness – taking matters into their own hands, not trusting in the God who created them, not knowing the God who loves them.

In that love, God promises a New Creation, and it begins with another beginning: “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God” is how Mark begins to tell us of the life of Jesus. Mark doesn’t begin with angels bringing tidings of great joy, he doesn’t begin with the young parents of a little baby boy, he doesn’t begin with shepherds and wise men coming to worship Jesus.

Mark begins his good news with John the Baptist, preparing the way for Jesus, calling people to repent so that they may receive forgiveness of their sins. Mark begins his good news with the waters of baptism – the waters of the New Creation. The Spirit sweeps over these waters, too – this time, in the form of a dove. The voice of God speaks over these waters, too – this time, calling Jesus his beloved Son.

The beginning of Creation is our beginning. The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ is our good news. The baptism of Jesus is echoed throughout time and space, in our own baptisms, when the Spirit hovers over these waters that wash us, and the voice of God is over these waters, calling us, “Beloved.”

As beloved children of God, we often live in tension with the world around us. Violence begets more violence, and sometimes it seems as though death is the only logical ending to it all. We live in a world marked by racism and sexism and ageism – and every other form of discrimination known to humankind. Fear is rampant and destructive; grace can be so hard to find. Creation has become quite chaotic.

As beloved children of God, it may be tempting to withdraw from all of this and to focus only on the beauty of the earth and the glimpses of goodness that we still can see. And yet, that is not the model we have from Jesus. Jesus emerges from the waters of his baptism and goes straight out into a harsh wilderness, to be tested by the devil for forty days. When he begins his earthly ministry – another beginning! – his work is among the sick, the poor, the hurting, the lowly.

As beloved children of God, we emerge from our own baptisms, called to live in this world. We are not called to live perfect lives. We are called to follow and to trust in the God of heaven and earth: the God who made us, who provides for us, who redeems us, who sustains us daily. We are called to forgive others and to love others. We are called to care for the least of these – the sick, the poor, the hurting, and the lowly. And this is all work that must extend beyond the confines of the season of Christmas, beyond Sunday morning or Wednesday night – this is work that we are called to each and every day of our lives in Christ.

We are eleven days into the beginning of a new year – another beginning! Even if you haven’t come up with official resolutions for 2015, I ask you to consider making some now – making some today. Resolve to love and forgive. Resolve to care for the least of these.

And when you don’t – when you step away from God and the loving work to which you are called – rely upon the waters of your own baptism. For in them, you have been claimed by God, you have been marked with the cross of Christ, and made his own – forever.

Amen.

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Tuesday, June 10, 2014

The promise is for you, for your children, and for all who are far away...




Pentecost – June 8, 2014 - Year A
Texts: Acts 2:1-21
Our Redeemer Lutheran Church, Grand Prairie, Texas

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Grace and peace be with you, from God our Father, from his beloved Son, and from the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Have you ever been bewildered by the power of the wind? I have, many times – I’ll share one time with you. My mom and stepdad and I went camping together in the mountains of New Hampshire one summer. We had a beautiful campsite, right along a small brook, complete with babbling water. The campsite was surrounded by towering trees, which formed a sort of outdoor cathedral over our heads.

We set up our tent under the towering trees, next to the babbling brook, and, after we finished setting up the rest of our camp, we enjoyed a lovely dinner by the campfire. This was  before smart phones and Kindles – I don’t think I even had a book light – so, when the night reached a point of deep darkness, and the campfire had died down, we went to bed. The babbling brook sang us a lullaby as we drifted off to sleep.

And then…

We were awakened in the middle of the night by a storm, picking up steam. Our tent was rainproof, we discovered. But what struck us was the wind. The wind, blowing a gale (as my mother-in-law would say) – picking up items we’d left out and blowing them around. We wondered to ourselves if the tent might blow away. Our beautiful cathedral of towering trees was transformed into a seemingly living and breathing space – and all three of us were in the tent, wondering if the ceiling of the cathedral might come crashing down on top of us.

It didn’t. The next morning, as we left camp, Mom talked with the park ranger, who had asked how our night was. “Noisy,” she responded, and he agreed, telling us that the winds on the mountain that night had clocked in at 50mph with gusts even higher. No wonder we felt so bewildered by that wind.

I’m thinking that the disciples gathered for Pentecost must’ve felt somewhat the same – bewildered. There they are, gathered together, celebrating Pentecost – which was the Jewish feast during which they remembered God giving the Law to Moses and the Israelites so very long ago. These disciples who are gathered have been witnesses of Jesus – to Jesus’ life and death, to his resurrection and ascension.

And then…

“…suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.”

And this is how the promised Holy Spirit arrives into their lives – through the rush of wind and the glow of tongues of fire. Beyond that, the disciples are given the ability, through the Spirit, to speak in languages that are not their own so that they may proclaim God’s deeds of power in the life and death and resurrection and ascension of Jesus Christ in the languages of the gathered community.

And there are some there who are bewildered by it all, and others who think they’re all drunk, which gives Peter the perfect opportunity to stand up and bear witness to work of God in their very midst. We don’t hear the end of Peter’s sermon today, but when he finishes, the crowd is “cut to the heart” and they begin asking, “What should we do?”

And Peter simply responds: “’Repent, and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ so that your sins may be forgiven; and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. For the promise is for you, for your children, and for all who are far away, everyone whom the Lord our God calls to him.'”

We then hear that three thousand of them are baptized that day, and so the work of the Holy Spirit continues to expand. Out of that first group of Christians, God is birthing the Christian church, and empowering it with the Holy Spirit to get out there and spread the word that God freed Jesus from death and, in doing so, he frees us from the power of death, also.

“Repent and be baptized,” Peter says to those first Christians, “and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit” – and that is the promise that we still have from God to this day – that when we are baptized, we receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. That is the gift which Brooklyn will receive today – because the promise is for everyone whom the Lord our God calls to himself.

We are not called by God only for our own sakes. Similar to what I said last week – I wonder where on earth we’d all be if those first Christians who received the Holy Spirit had kept their mouths shut - if when they received the Spirit, they’d gone home, shut their doors, and gone to bed!

Thank God they didn’t. Thank God that the Spirit drove them into their homes and marketplaces, to the synagogues and the wells where they drew water – so that they could speak about God’s deeds of power to others, so that others would also be called by God to believe.

We are not called by God only for our own sakes. We don’t receive the gift of the Holy Spirit for it to be hidden away. We receive the gift of the Holy Spirit and we are empowered by that Spirit to proclaim the great love of God. It’s bewildering sometimes – God is calling me? Yes, my brothers and sisters – God is calling us. “For the promise is for you, for your children, and for all who are far away, everyone whom the Lord our God calls to him.”

Amen.

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Sunday, May 18, 2014

Living stones, used by God



A Easter 5 – May 18, 2014
Text: 1 Peter 2:2-10
Our Redeemer Lutheran Church, Grand Prairie, Texas

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Grace and peace be with you, from God our Father, and his beloved Son, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

One of the first people we met on our trip to the Holy Land in February was a young woman named Angel. Imagine – a woman named Angel, from the town of Bethlehem. She spent the better part of a day with us, showing us around a local university. We were still getting our bearings – still dealing with jet lag – still trying to sort out where we were and what we were doing exactly. And for me, the moment it all hit me was when Angel began to talk about her identity.

Angel is a Palestinian. And she’s a Palestinian Christian. (A Palestinian Christian, named Angel, from Bethlehem, no less!) And because of her ethnicity and her religion, and because she’s from Bethlehem, she officially has no status whatsoever. She explained to us: she is officially a citizen of no country. She may reside in Bethlehem, but if someone asks her what her citizenship is, she has none.

Try to wrap your mind around that.

It’s a challenge. And standing there, in the library of the university, listening to her try to explain her status to us – it all hit me between the eyes: how much of my identity is tied up in being a United States citizen, a resident of the State of Texas, a resident of Mansfield. If someone needs proof of my identity, I can provide a drivers’ license, a passport, a passport card, Social Security Card, birth certificate, marriage certificate, proof that I changed my name when I got married, and on and on. These are markers of my identity.

This particular lack of identity for Angel was unsettling for us, the big group of Americans. Not because we blamed her – it’s not her fault – that much is very clear. She is kept from having citizenship by those in power. Her situation was unsettling because it stood in sharp contrast to our own situations – our identities being so clear to both our own government and the governments of foreign countries.

But Angel’s story didn’t stop there. She didn’t dwell there as she talked with us. She instead began to talk with us about another identity she has – one she knows she has – one that cannot be taken away from her: her identity as a Christian, as a beloved child of God. That is the part of her identity that she clings to.

Our time with Angel taught me to cling to that part of my identity, too. To cling to it – to hold it fast – to never, ever let it go. Because I know and trust that God certainly is never, ever going to let me go.

“…like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house…” Peter writes in today’s epistle. He’s writing, of course, in the years right after Jesus lived and breathed and walked on the earth. He’s writing in the years right after Jesus died, rose, and ascended into heaven. He’s writing to a group of brand-new Christians, still trying to figure out what their identity in Christ is. “What does this mean?” as Luther would ask. What does identity in Christ mean?

So Peter uses a picture that most anyone will understand: that of a stone. And not just any stone, but a stone used for building. And not just any building stone, but a living stone. A living stone, put together with other living stones to form a spiritual house. Does this imagery remind you of anything?

This is our identity, too! Called to be living stones, not stones that sit around and collect dust, but living stones – stones that are used for building. Stones that God uses for building up his church – stones that God uses to bring love and peace and healing into his world. That’s us – the group of living stones.

[Passed out tags in picture above...]

Let’s read these together…

Let yourselves be built into a spiritual house. So, who is the builder?

And it is God the Holy Spirit who calls us through the gospel, enlightens us with gifts, makes us holy, and keeps us in the true faith, just as the Spirit calls, gathers, enlightens, and makes holy the whole Christian church on earth – all of us! – and keeps it with Jesus Christ in the one common, true faith.[1]

This is our identity as the living stones of God: called, enlightened, made holy. And we are called, enlightened, and made holy for the glory of God and to do the work of God, not just here at Our Redeemer Lutheran Church, but in our workplaces, our schools, our homes and neighborhoods, and on and on. Our identity in Christ is washed over us at baptism and so we cling to it, certainly, but – here’s the good news – that water clings to us too. And God never, ever lets us go.

You now have a tangible reminder of another part of your identity: you are living stones, brothers and sisters. You are living stones built into a spiritual house. Take these reminders home – use them as bookmarks as you read your Bible (in 90 days or whatever time period!), hang them on your rearview mirror or your bathroom mirror. And remember that you are living stones, beloved by God and called by God.

Amen.

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[1] Taken from Martin Luther’s explanation of the Third Article of the Creed in the Small Catechism.