Readings:  Hebrews 10:16-25; Matthew 5:17-24

Well this is the last sermon in our Lenten series, Hope and Resurrection. I hope that you have enjoyed it so far, and I hope you have been able to see your faith in a new way. Before we begin with today’s H & R word, let’s look at where our Lenten journey has taken us so far.

In Week One we talked about Christ is our renewal of life. Through him we are healed and renewed. Our golden scars that we bear become a testimony of God at work within us. 

In Week Two we discovered  Christ is our new covenant with God. We talked about how God has a hunger for righteousness. And Christ's is the living example who illuminates the way to nurturing and strengthening our faith that feeds it. 

In Week Three, we learned that Christ is our new temple. He is the heavenly home. And he renovated it by tearing down the barriers  that keep people away from being with God. 

And then in Week Four we talked about Christ is our way to resurrection life. For Christians...he is our human reality of God's grace. Through our faith in Jesus Christ, we receive new flesh and new blood. 

Now, give or take a few jokes, that pretty much sums it all up. Which takes us to today where we conclude our series by looking at how Christ is our New High Priest, the very one who takes our sins upon himself and offers them to God for our forgiveness. Thus our final H & R words...Holiness and Reconciliation. 

To begin, let's return to the gospel of Matthew, where during his passionate discourse on the Mount, Jesus says, “You have heard it said that murder makes you liable for judgment. But I say, so does holding a grudge and being angry with someone close to you." Jesus warns us not to bring that anger into church, instead leave church and reconcile with that person, then come back and offer your clean heart to God.

Each of the Gospels teach us how forgiveness and reconciliation is key to both Jesus’ ministry and our understanding of our own holiness. Think about all the healing miracles that Jesus performed that were tied to the forgiveness of a person's sin. And of course, on the cross, Jesus famously asked God to forgive us for our ignorance. All throughout the Bible, God’s justice reigns supreme through the act of forgiveness. Not just for Israel, but God offered forgiveness to Gentile nations...like Nineveh who were willing to repent. 

Quoting from the prophet Jeremiah, the author of Hebrews reminds us...God will “remember our sins no more.” He says we can be sure of this because 1) God is righteous...and 2) God gave us a new high priest, whose own sacrificial blood was shed for the forgiveness of all sin. By his sacrifice on the cross, Christ reconciles us back to God. Our sins therefore are forgiven so we may enter into the heavenly realm, ready and worthy, to worship God.

Our Lenten journey, therefore, always moves towards the cross. And so it is good for us to be reminded that we cannot hold on to the hope of the resurrection without holding on to the suffering of the cross. As brutal as any killing machine can be, God transformed the cross from promoting death to producing everlasting life; from spreading injustice to offering justice for all; from honoring the ways of violence and anger to upholding the way of peace and reconciliation. 

By picking up our cross and following Jesus, we are forgiven of our debts, AND empowered to forgive our debtors. This is the way of the Christ this is the way of the cross that transforms both the individual and community. Through Christ we all become one body, one blood, and one in the forgiveness of sin.

But the question we have to face is this: Are we living up to this gift that has been given to us? Are we paying it forward by forgiving others? Or are we still harboring a few unhealthy grudges?  You heard me say that reconciliation is necessary for our holiness but it is also necessary for our wholeness. Yet for some reason, it is one of those things that is still so difficult to do. Why is that? Why is all the good stuff so hard to attain?

God is in the business of forgiveness, but we humans…well we need time, courage, strength, and sometimes protection. We always need find the right words, or have the right heart, or be in the right moment before we can begin to forgive...or ask for forgiveness. And if we are ready to seek it, we have to hope that the one we have offended is ready to hear it. If my past relationships have taught me anything it’s this, the one who is unable to forgive or seek forgiveness is the one most likely to suffer. 

Recently the medical world has begun to embrace the idea that holding onto anger and resentment is detrimental to our health. When we push negative emotions down into some dark hole within us it eventually begins to eat away at us like cancer. And before we know it, it spreads into our interactions and relationships with others. Prolonged anger and bitterness can also block possibilities for resolution and opportunities for reconciliation. Negotiations between Israel and Palestine is a perfect example. 

Jesus seems to understand that an unforgiving heart creates barriers that keep people out. He knows how it divides communities, and make lasting covenants impossible to uphold. But Christ is the new Covenant. Christ is the new Temple, where there are no barriers or walls dividing us. And Christ is the new High Priest in that temple. He alone is the new and final sacrifice made on our behalf. Through Christ and in Christ forgiveness is and always will be possible.

So as difficult as it might seem, admitting our wrongs and asking forgiveness (or accepting forgiveness) can go a long way to building a better, more lasting relationship. Therefore such actions need to come from our heart, the very place where our faith and hope reside. A thin apology often reflects a thin faith. It’s one thing to say “Sorry,” but it something else to say, “I was wrong, will you please forgive me?” More than just an apology, true heartfelt forgiveness acknowledges both the action and the hurt that they have caused. Just as one action can hurt a heart, so too can another action heal the heart.

Let me show how this is working today. In 2003, driven by overcrowded prisons, the Rwandan government released 52,000 genocide criminals back into society. People who had already confessed to killing their neighbors were sent back to their homes, back to neighborhoods literally destroyed at their own hands to live beside the few surviving relatives of the very men, women, and children they killed. Fr. Steven Gahigi, is an Anglican priest who lost 142 members of his family during the Rwandan genocide. The government’s decision to release these murders forced Fr. Gahigi to face the question: How does one move towards reconciliation with such evil, much less love as Jesus taught? 

Fr. Gahigi believed this tragedy made him lose his ability to forgive. In spite of this...he prayed and prayed until one night he saw an image of Jesus Christ on the cross, the ultimate weapon of forgiveness. Inspired by this vision, he found the words again and begin preaching forgiveness. From jail cells to neighborhoods, his love and understanding of the sacrifice of Christ brought healing to his own heart, and to the hearts of those still suffering from the deep wounds of anger and resentment. 

Lent takes us to the cross were we too must look at Christ who extends to the world the possibility of reconciliation by simply embodying it. His suffering, and willingness to be broken by the very people with whom he is trying to reconcile, is the very road to our healing and wholeness and holiness.

As we walk towards the cross we must faithfully hold fast to the promise of the Lord who said, “I will remember their sins no more.”  Let us “hold fast to our hope without wavering. Let's put our faith to work and encourage one another to love and inspire to do good deeds. With a clean heart and faithful spirit, we can approach God with confidence, faithfully believing God loves us and accepts us. With faith in the righteousness of God, we can accept others as they are, and accept ourselves as imperfect as we are.

With faith in God, then we can risk forgiving and being forgiven. We can prod each other to be compassionate. We can egg each other on to reconcile...and show acts of mercy and healing. We can be healed and renewed to gather as one people, under one covenant, in one holy Temple, with Christ as our one and only high priest. We can move into the very presence of an all-loving and forgiving God.

So let us pick up our cross, and follow Jesus to the death of our old self. Let us pick up our cross...and move through our own death, into a new and resurrected life. After all, this is the very foundation upon which our Christian hope is built. And this is also my hope for you, this church, and for our world. Amen.

Resources: "Where Forgiveness Is Suffering," Jill Carattini, ed. A Slice of Infinity. Ravi Zacharias International Ministries, Atlanta. March 2015.

Readings:  Ezekiel 37:1-14; John 11:30-44   

Here’s a question that I hope you’ve thought about at least once in your Christian life. If you could possess just one of Jesus’ miraculous powers, which one would you chose? This was the opening question presented to us at a minister’s retreat I attended last January. The answers were as diverse as the churches we represented. Some, no doubt, wished to change water into wine. To my friends dismay I never perfected this one in seminary. Some wished for the ability to cast out demons. And many wanted to heal the blind and to make the lame walk again so they could help their spouse or a child with special needs. One minister admitted he really wished to have true Christlike compassion towards all people. Not much of a miracle. But if you're raising a teenager you'll take  as much as you can get.

I simply wanted to seek the lost sheep; to possess the power, the words, and the compassion to seek all those who have been pushed out to the fringes and return them back into society, back into a loving community where we all belong together. This is what Jesus' miracles were all about returning people back to the fold. Jesus healed lepers so they could once again worship. The blind, so they could see the world through God's righteous eyes. And of course He brings us back too back into God’s ever living righteousness and  grace.

As we shared our answers, I was surprised that no one chose resurrecting the dead. I couldn’t help but wonder why that was. Were we are afraid we might initiate a zombie apocalypse? Or did we just assume God owns this power outright? As Christians, we hold on to the hope of being resurrected through death; to live forever in the glory of God. Which takes us to our message this morning.

If you are keeping track, this is the fourth week of Lent and our series on Hope and Resurrection. I have selected two particular bible stories that point us towards God’s power over life…and death.  There are three reports in the Gospels that speak of Jesus raising people from the dead. But I would bet Lazarus is the most famous one, because it reminds us of Jesus’ own resurrection. But since Easter is not  for another few weeks lets turn our attention to a different kind of hope that comes from a different kind of resurrection story. 

A story from long ago when God’s hand leads Ezekiel into a vast, desert wasteland, and walks him around  piles of dried up tibias and fibulas, rib cages, skulls, and vertebras. Bones are stacked upon bones I always envision this place to look like a land where giants feed on human beings; tossing the bones to the ground like a bucket of chewed up hot wings from Mr. T’s.

God tells Ezekiel to prophesize to the bones, command them to rise up and receive the breath of the life. Given all the zombie movies I have seen in my life I am not sure I would feel comfortable raising a massive army of undead. But Ezekiel doesn't have Netflix...so he does what God asks him to do. 

He begins to preach and the bones began to rattle and lock together; their muscle and flesh and skin returned to what they once were. God then tells Ezekiel to prophesize about the breath; the Hebrew word here is ‘ru-ah’ which means breath, spirit, wind. We first read this word in the lush Garden of Eden when God breathed life into humanity. Now here it is used again where all of life's pain and suffering stand mute to the violence of human reality.  Again Ezekiel does what God asks, and the ruah of God regenerates and resuscitates an entire valley of naked zombies.

Now the author of this story lets us know this is a metaphorical tale. A story of how God will breathe life back into the people of Israel who have been held captive in Babylon. Living in a foreign land God’s people were spiritually dried up and parched like a desert wasteland. They felt as lifeless as dead bones.

God hears their cries and sends the Spirit to take them home. In one grace filled breath God returns their hope. God restore them from both a physical and spiritual death. By the life giving power of God...Jerusalem will be resurrected, and the breath of God will fill the holy Temple once more. Just as God restores and renews the life of his people, so too does God restore, renew and resurrect our lives. By grace alone, God saves us from death. But it will take a human life to do it.

As we progress through Lent, we might consider what dry bones mean to us as a church and as people? Do they represent dry times in our spiritual journey?  Are they reminders of how living in a lonely and parched reality can separate us from who we really are? How many of us can point to periods of time when doubt, hopelessness, depression, fear and anxiety were prominent in your daily living? Perhaps they still are. 

It's easy for us to relate to Israel’s feeling of hopelessness and despair during our own wilderness journey of Lent. If you have ever been taken from your home or placed in captivity you know the lost and helpless feeling that comes over you. If you’ve been to jail, or sent to war, if you suffer under the chains of addiction, or had to move away from your friends because your parents split up, or a job demanded it of you, you know how easy it is to feel as disconnected and brittle as these bones.  

Most of us have had our faith put to the test. And many of us have had our spirit wither. But ask yourself the question that God asks Ezekiel, “Son of man, can these bones live?”  How would you answer this question? Do you really believe these bones can be put back together? Let me put it another way, "Son and daughter of mankind, can the dead really rise from the tomb?"

Life’s journey takes us through dry times and dry places. And when our faith is tested, we often question our beliefs. Lost and alone, we might feel that we are parched or separated from whom we’d like to be.

There have been many times in my own life that I have felt like I am dying both physically and spiritually. Many times I have been dried up, not in the desert sun of California, but in the darkness of my fears and anxieties. I have to remind myself that while the daylight might hide the stars, the stars are still out there. Likewise, my darkness could never hide God’s true light shining throughout the world.

God is always and everywhere, breathing the breath of life into us wherever we fall. This breath is the same breath of life blown into Lazarus’ tomb. This is the same breath of life breathed into a crucified Jesus, lifting him up to a resurrection life. This is the same ruah, the same breath, the same Spirit, that came upon us in our baptism. This is the breath of God that moves through the world, raising people from the dead awakening us from being spiritual zombies giving us new life when the odds are stacked against it. Both Ezekiel’s vision and Israel’s salvation reminds us that God hears our cries; especially when we feel like we are gasping for breath and struggling to stay alive.

As we walk and live amid the painful and death-dealing realities that plague human reality, we must hold faithfully to the hope that God calls us out from the grave, like Jesus called Lazarus, freeing us from the ties that bind us. Through the grace of God in Christ Jesus our life is restored and resurrected. We are given new flesh and new blood. Death no longer has the final word. 

Wherever our spiritual journey is taking us, our resurrection hope must never lose sight of the fact that through Jesus Christ we are regenerated by the Spirit and breath of God that is poured into our hearts.

Ezekiel stood among the dry bones. The disciples stood looking in an empty tomb. Come Easter morning, we too will stand here and have to answer God’s question “Do you believe these bones will live again?” What will be your answer?

Readings:  Psalm 19:7-14; John 2:13-22        

John is a wonderful gospel, don't you think? The evangelist gives us a vivid view of Jesus that is both simple and yet complex to understand. The gospel opens with a great description of Jesus’ divinity. And then he contrasts it quickly with Jesus' humanity. (Jesus is at wedding with his mother). This is typical of John's style. Today’s lectionary text is one that gives us both views. But it is one that is particularly hard for us to see Jesus as…well, Jesus.
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 We don’t like to envision our Divine savior behaving like one of us. We see human Jesus is the one who gets a bit frustrated like so many of us do. The one who finds it difficult to always contain his emotions, especially when there is death or in this case injustice that is present. For many of us, human Jesus is irresistibly attractive...when he is confronting the bad guys and one-upping the wise. But when he shifts from human mode to a prophetic or divine mode, we get an uncomfortable sneaking fear in the pit of our stomach. For Divine Jesus makes us realize...we might have more in common with the targets of his judgment than with the righteous one himself.

Historically, this passage has been used to justify violence against others, especially the Jewish race. But to read Jesus’ actions in this story as violent rage would grossly misrepresent the Good News of God’s love. I believe this is a story about God’s radical presence among us, and the changes that must occur in God’s Kingdom. This is not a story about getting rid of people per se, at least not by violent means. Instead, I see a story of how God welcomes all people into God’s house, because God’s love and passion and mercy is for us all.

Moving forward in our Lenten sermon series ‘Hope and Resurrection,’ John offers us a clear picture of the hope that is to come...from the human violence of Good Friday. That is, the divine joy of the Easter celebration. I have entitled this sermon “Home Renovations” not just to keep the theme of words that begin with H & R, but because our hope relies on a willingness to tear down the walls within ourselves, and let Christ completely renovate us, to make us new again. For Christ himself, the very Word of the Father, is the new Temple. And through him all are welcomed. 

You have heard me say that the Temple is the place where God meets his people. It was called "The House of many nations.” This is reflective of God’s covenant promise made with us through Abraham, the father of many nations. It's no surprise then...that Jesus begins the restoration process in the Court of the Gentiles. It was here the priest of the Temple allowed the local merchants to set up shop. It is here Jesus sees the things in his father’s house are no longer in order. People are being kept out and God wants these barriers removed.  

Years and years ago...I used to work at Joe’s Record Paradise...an eclectic record store just outside Washington, DC. This was in the late 80's and Compact Discs were just being introduced. In order to usher in this new digital future, Joe needed to remodel the record store. Now, we worked with this guy Billy Ropple. Billy Ropple was a big, hulking punk rocker of a guy. When Joe asked Billy to take down the back wall this 6 foot 2 inch chunk of muscle and rage happily went to work. 

For those of you who have done demo work you know that certain tools are often used. Crowbars, sledgehammers, drop cloths, gloves… and so on. This was not the case with Billy. He just threw his body into the wall, smashing holes in the drywall and ripping out wood studs. With zero regard to the mess he was making...Billy’s pent up rage exploded like a wrecking ball of aggression. Using only his bare hands and body, Billy took down the wall in no time flat. To an outsider, it probably looked like a violent rampage, but for those who knew what was going on it was exciting to watch. Joe needed a wall removed...and Billy was more than happy to do it. 

In like manner, the Temple was in need of renovation. It had become more and more exclusive…not inclusive. The Court of the Gentiles was no longer a quiet, sacred space. There was no longer a place for outsiders to worship God in peace. For those who grew up on farms it's easy to imagine the distraction such a place would be for prayer. 

Imagine what would our sanctuary would smell and sound like if it was filled with the bleating of sheep, and the loud haggling of the merchants and bankers. I am sure there are some Sunday's you might believe that it is...but I have talked with Trudi and she assures me that my microphone is on mute when I sing. Look, God knows that human beings have a way of putting up human barriers. But God wants those barriers gone. Jesus was the one who was asked to do it.

Like Billy Ropple, Jesus’ aggression and his anger were not hostile or belligerent, but instead more assertive and energetic. What we see here is not a violent act, but a restorative act of passion. Our God is a passionate God. His great passion of course would culminate on the cross. Isn't it ironic that God would use violence as a means to restore all people from our violent ways? We are not called to be violent...any more than we are called to put up barriers between us. 

We are called to love, and to love, like God calls us to love, means we must be open to accept all people. I am sure if any one of us saw Jesus running wildly with a whip of cords in his hand or heard the righteous judgments of God pouring from his lips, we’d find it a bit disarming. For we know that when he speaks for us and even with us, he can also speak to us and at times, even against us. 
The activity Jesus was interrupting was necessary for the functioning of the temple. The scriptures clearly stated that temple tax had to be paid in temple coinage, free of idols. Therefore moneychangers were necessary. Because sacrificial animals had to be without blemish, and a variety had to be offered for affordability purposes, a sellers of sacrificial animals were necessary. But did they need to be in the sacred space of the temple precinct? Wasn't there space outside the Temple walls to conduct their commerce?

For those on the inside the Temple appeared to fulfill its function. But a closer inspection reveals that many of those insiders had forgotten its purpose. Jesus was outraged by what he saw happening inside his Father’s home. Instead of being a place of prayer, or a place to meet with God, the Temple had become tainted with economic exploitation. Tom Wright says, “In the eyes of Jesus this was the epitome of how all of Jerusalem had become.” God’s holy city, God’s holy house, and God’s chosen people were doing things their way, instead of what God called them to do. 

So my question to you is, "Have we forgotten too?" Have any of us built up walls or kept people out of our lives? While the Church seems to be welcoming and hospitable I must ask, are we? It's not hard to see how the shadow of the cross falls over this narrative. Jesus warns us that we are the ones who destroy the Temple. “Destroy it,” he said, “And I will build it again in three days.”

When we do things our way instead of God’s, When we put greed or fear before God and peace we begin to destroy the very essence of God’s heavenly home. I’m not talking about making changes to the way we worship, but making major renovations in our heart. Jesus warns us not to be caught up in the human spaces we have constructed. But to keep our eye sharply focused on God’s divine call. To faithfully follow Jesus means we must be open and be willing follow him in all ways...And all the way to the cross.

During Lent we can never lose sight of the Good Friday cross if we are to hold fast to the hope that comes three days later. Through his death and resurrection, Jesus transforms the Divine Temple of God. In him and through him...all people are welcomed. Christ has torn down the walls that divide us. 
No longer is a temple tax is needed, because Christ paid the ultimate price with his own flesh and blood. No longer will sacrifices be needed because Christ, our paschal lamb, atoned for all sin. No longer do we need to make a pilgrimage to meet with God because through Jesus Christ, God comes to us. 

No matter where we are, or who we are, we too are renewed, renovated and restored by the saving grace of God in Jesus Christ. 

And this, sisters and brothers is why we say… Amen.

What Remains


Life, not just death,
is a violent ocean wave
       surging, swelling
       in rage

It comes crashing down
the weight of all eternity
       pounding, pinning
       its strength

Pow, it is gone
sucked back into the currents
             temporary, temporal
            ebb and flow
                          leaving its mark on paradise

Gen. 17:1-7; 15-26; Romans 4:13 - 5:5                           

Raise your hand if you have ever sung while driving in the car?  You know how it goes. You’re heading down 44 and your favorite song comes on the radio. You lean over and turn it up a bit louder. Your head begins to move and before you know it, you are on stage rocking out a tune as if you are on a world tour. You don’t have a care in the world how loud you are, or how bad your voice sounds. No one but God and your windshield can hear you.  Best of all, there's no one there to correct you if your lyrics are a little off. 

Has that ever happened to you? You’re singing and someone says, “um… Dude, that’s not what they’re singing.” And you’re like, “what are you talking about, it totally is.” And then you Google the lyrics and realize that it’s not “Smashed up like a truce, another burger in the night.” In fact, I would find out the song has nothing to do with grilled meat. Many years ago, I was caught singing that song...“What if God were one of us.” Only I could have sworn it went “What if God ate one of us.” There's a big theological difference there. I still sing "what if God ate one of us" because it makes me smile just to think of God happily gobbling up all our goodness. 

As we continue our Lenten series on Hope and Resurrection, we also celebrate the feast of the Lord’s Table. For it is at the table where the hope-filled promise in Jesus’ resurrection is remembered. It is at this table that we gather to share this sacred meal, and feed our spiritual hunger.  

You will notice I’ve titled this sermon “God’s hunger will not cease.”  And in keeping a food theme going...my question this morning is this: “If God were to feast on you, would God be filled with your righteousness?" In other words, what do you have to offer that is fulfilling and pleasurable?  Love? Kindness? Generosity? Trust? Friendship? These are all great qualities...one's that even an atheist can possess. Therefore, let's think about the specific thing God desires most of all. Abraham’s story gives us some food for thought. In Genesis we read that God reckoned Abraham as righteous, that is to say Abraham walked right with God. It appears that God has an appetite for righteousness.

Now had we read the entire story, we'd see how Abraham was not sinless or without guilt. He put the covenant promise with God in jeopardy a few times. Not only did he lie about his wife being his sister, he also had a child with his slave Hagar, instead of waiting on God to deliver on this promise.  And as Sue read this morning, when God told him that he and Sarah would have children together, Abraham actually laughed in God's face. Yet he was reckoned righteous. I find this hard to swallow.

In his letter to the Roman churches, Paul believes Abraham was righteous, and thus the heir of the covenant, because he simply believed. That’s it.  Abraham simply believed in the righteousness of God...and of God's word. Paul writes, "Hoping against hope, he believed in order to become the father of many nations. Abraham believed God, even when the stuff that God was saying sounded a little far fetched and completely unrealistic. Because of this, God made a covenant with Abraham. 

The Christian church affirms that God's covenant has continued through the generations through Jesus Christ, who is our hope and our salvation. The righteousness of God has been manifested in Jesus Christ. God came into a sin filled world to be with us so that all who believe will be justified by their faith in him. Abraham believed and received the covenant promise. We are called to believe if we want to receive it too.  

But is it really that simple? Just believe and you're all good with God? Well, kinda-sorta...You can believe that your eyes see words on a page but to believe that those words mean something to the way you live your life takes having faith in the words themself.

Belief is the start. Belief leads to faith. And faith as you have heard me say before is active. Active faith leads to some kind of action. Abraham's faith begins with believing that God is who he says he is...the Great Almighty. And even though he laughs in God's face Abraham's faith in God's crazy promise remains steadfast.

Paul tells us it was "strong and unwavering." This does not mean he never doubts, or never tries to take matters into his own hands, but because at the end of the day, Abraham faithfully trusts in God’s covenant promise. This trust allows him to step out of his comfort zone, to take great risks, and do what God has called him to do. At age 75, when most are enjoying retirement, God calls Abraham to leave his family, friends, and security. Instead of taking I-75 south to spend his golden years in the Sunshine State, Abraham faithfully obeys God to go out into a land yet unseen...to begin a new nation.

Forty years further into his story Abraham is prepared to sacrifice his son Isaac (and all the future hopes attached to him) just to prove his faith in God. While there have been times I have wanted to kill my own kids, (like last night) I am not sure I could do it even if I really believed God told me to do so. Who remembers the horror movie "The Omen"? Towards the final scene Damian's Father has him pinned down on the alter. With the sacred knife in hand, the father cannot kill his own son...even though he knows he is the Anti-Christ. He loses faith which will cost him his life.

Of course God stopped Abraham from sacrificing Isaac. And keeps his covenant with his faithful servant. Abraham’s story shows us God's hunger for righteousness will not cease.  Neither will God's covenant with us...even if it means God has to give his own son as a sacrifice for our sin. And so I ask the question again, do you have what it takes to satisfy God’s appetite? How far do we put our faith and trust in a God that, as Paul puts it, “gives life to the dead...and calls into being that which does not exist?” It takes faith to believe in things hoped for, And hope is more than just being optimistic. 

We live in a time where not believing is so much easier than believing...It's easier to put your hope in nothing...than it is having your hope and faith crushed. I know too many faithful believers who keep their faith to themselves. They don't want to be singled out as a religious fanatic. They just want to blend in. Like the good atheist, they are content with being seen as a nice person, who does nice things for other people. But do you think God wants us to privatize our faith?

Was Jesus afraid to go public? No. Jesus publicly endured hostility by those who despised him, rejection by those who loved him, he endured the cross, and even death itself...for everyone to see. Jesus was not simply obeying the law by doing good things, Jesus was faithfully living and fulfilling the righteousness of the law...from his birth to his death and resurrection. This is where our hope begins. God came to us...God lived with us in public to give us hope even in the face of death. So why are we afraid to proclaim it?

I admit, I'm guilty of this. When I meet someone new who shares my love for music or who has my dark sense of humor, I often hesitate to answer the inevitable question of, “So what do you do for a living?” I hesitate to tell them I am a minister because I fear it will end the conversation. I fear they either think I’ll try to convert them or guilt them into coming to church. I too need to be reminded that I am a believer and my faith is risk I chose to take. It is in this action that God finds our righteousness. Our righteousness must never cease...because God's hunger never does.

For the last few decades, churches around the country have spent valuable time and resources to entertain faith instead of feeding it. Too many churches say they offer the Living Water of Christ, when in reality it’s more like diet soda. They say it taste like the real thing, but with none of the guilt. The common belief has been, the church needs to offer a light version of the gospel, so people feel good about themselves and keep coming back.

I believe Jesus wants us to feel good...but as his disciples would discover...to get to that peaceful joy, requires us to face some uncomfortable truths about who we are...and who we want to become. Likewise, too many churches have enabled congregations to binge on a feel good gospel like they do on Monster Energy drinks. They pump people up and send them out into the world. But this kind of rush is often short-lived. Without proper spiritual nutrition people's faith crash and they burn out on religion. And then God does not get fed. 

Lent is not just a time to fast. It is also a time to feast. A time receive nourishment and be strengthened by the truth and righteousness of Christ Jesus, who, like Abraham, did not waver in unbelief, but grew in faith, always giving glory to God. To believe is to have faith in God. To have faith means we must trust God. When we trust God enough to love God, our faith grows and our righteousness is strengthened. 

Our hope is more than optimistic thinking...It is the building block of our covenant relationship with God. As our love for God grows stronger, we overcome the fear that stops us from loving our neighbor. When we love one another, we no longer judge one another, we no longer desire to kill or to cheat one another. We no longer desire to horde our resources from those less fortunate. Our hope is building a covenanting community with one another...And with our God. When we come together in love, the hope and promise of God’s covenant comes alive. When our love is right with God, God is well fed.  And so are we.

(move to the communion table)