Fifth Sunday after Pentecost
June 24, 2018
Good Shepherd Lutheran Church
Decorah, Iowa                                                    
Rev. Amy Zalk Larson

Click here to read scripture passages for the day.

Beloved of God, grace to you and peace in the name of Jesus – God with us.

When Jesus tells his disciples, “Let’s go over to the other side”, they likely are pretty surprised. Jews like them don’t go to the other side of the lake where the unclean Gentiles live. But, they certainly know how to navigate across to get there – they’re fisherman, well acquainted with sailing. So, they take Jesus into the boat and head off for another day on the lake.

They’re tooling along doing their everyday thing that they’ve done a thousand times. But then things get ugly. Things get out of control. The wind comes up, the waves crash, the boat is taking on water, it looks like they’re heading for the bottom.

Jesus has been sleeping away in the back of the boat through the whole storm until one of the disciples remembers he’s back there and wakes him up with a terror filled, embittered cry of, “Don’t you care?”

Jesus sits up, and I imagine, rubs his eyes, stretches a bit, tells the storm to quit and it does. No big deal – he was there with them the whole time.

Why did they wait so long? Jesus was there the whole time. Were they too busy to notice him snoring away in the boat with them? Did they figure, “Oh we’ve got this, no problem”, until things got out of hand?

They didn’t bother him – or maybe they didn’t bother with him – until they thought they were going to die, and then they got mad at him for not seeming to care! Why’d they wait?

How about us? When do we remember to bother Jesus – or to bother with Jesus?

When we face storms in our own lives, as a country – and, oh my, are we in stormy times – we so often panic as if we are without any hope, without any help.

Jesus is with us just as surely as he was in the boat with the disciples. Jesus is Immanuel – God with us. God does not remain at a distance but comes to us in Jesus to be in the same boat with all of humanity. And this Jesus, who is so very vulnerable, who sleeps, who hangs on a cross – this Jesus has power that is made perfect in his very weakness. He brings peace; he subdues the storms by entering them with us and transforming the storms and each of us from the inside.

We are not alone in the storm.

Yet we so often act as if everything depends upon us, as if Jesus isn’t there; or maybe he’s just some extra cargo we’re hauling with us. We keep busy doing what we always do, we think we can handle it. We leave Jesus tucked away on a cushion and neglect to call upon him. We focus on everything we have to do.

That’s not to say that our work in the midst of storms isn’t important – it is. We need to chart a good course the best we can. We need to tend to the ship, the sails, and the welfare of those around us.

But we also need to wake up to the good news that Jesus is in the boat with us. And because Jesus is in the boat with us, we have what we need. The One who overcame death, who works always to bring peace and subdue storms, evil and chaos – this One is at work in us, for us and through us. We have hope, we have help. It does not all depend upon us. We need to wake up to Jesus’ presence with us and call upon Jesus to help us.

When we call upon Jesus, that doesn’t mean that all the storms will be stilled, that evil and chaos will immediately be vanquished. As we heard in our second reading today, the Apostles Paul and Timothy endured afflictions, hardships, calamities, beatings, imprisonments, riots, labors, sleepless nights, and hunger. Jesus’ presence does not protect us from the storms, and Jesus doesn’t still all the storms.

Yet being awake to Jesus’ presence and calling upon him does mean that we can approach the storms differently. We can remain calm and kind and hopeful. We can work with hope and purpose trusting that Jesus is also at work. We can care for others rather than fixating on our own safety and security. We can take risks and cross to the other side rather than staying where it is familiar and comfortable.

Jesus is in the boat with us.

A boat is an ancient metaphor for the church. The part of the sanctuary where worshippers gather is called a nave – from the Latin word for ship. When we gather as the church, in the nave, we are reminded that God, in Jesus, is in the same boat with us. We are also assured of Jesus’ power made perfect in weak- ness. When we gather for worship, we practice paying attention to the presence of God with us. We practice asking for help.

Then we are sent out to do these things amidst the storms of life. We are sent to be a hopeful, helpful presence in our world. We are sent to cross to the other side to be with those who are seen as unclean.

We can do all these things because we are not alone – Jesus is in the boat with us.

Let’s take some time for silent prayer.

Fourth Sunday after Pentecost
June 17. 2018
Good Shepherd Lutheran Church
Decorah, Iowa
Amalia Vagts, Preacher

First Reading: Ezekial 17:22-24; Psalm: 92:1-4, 12-15; Second Reading: 2 Corinthians 5:6-10 [11-13] 14-17; Gospel: Mark 4:26-34

Mercy and Peace to you through Jesus, our Liberator.

Two months ago, we had snow on the ground here in Decorah. In fact, we had so much snow on the ground that school activities were cancelled. If you had been sitting here in the sanctuary that morning and looking out, you would have seen white on the ground, brown and bare trees, and likely a gray sky.

It’s a little hard to imagine today, isn’t it? I thought about having us take a field trip outside to look at the backyard. It’s a miracle out there. There’s a reason we say, “Is this heaven? No, it’s Iowa.”

It’s lovely to imagine that heaven or the Reign of God is like a June day in Iowa. The trees seem unbearably lush, the grass greener than green. The flowers and and the strawberries, the rhubarb and the lettuce are abundant and plentiful. The seeds and leaves that were hidden beneath the earth or in the trees all winter have emerged to full bloom.

Like the world around us, today’s Scriptures texts remind us of the biological heartbeat of the earth. Or as one person put it during bible study on Thursday, “This week’s lessons have a lot of botany in them!”

Indeed, they do. Trees and plants and seeds and shrubs. The prophet Ezekiel speaks about the mighty and lofty cedar tree – a common image in the Old Testament to convey might, beauty, strength. Ezekiel says – Under this tree every kind of bird will live… I bring low the high tree, I make high the low tree. God shelters every kind of bird. God brings the low tree high and makes the high tree low. Ours is a God of shelter. And justice. Our God is all-loving.

Today’s reading from Mark tells us even more about God. Jesus asks the crowd – how can we describe the Reign of God? Jesus says the Reign of God is like a seed that is scattered and sprouts and grows – even when we don’t know or understand how. That not knowing – we don’t like that part, do we? In fact, it’s downright irritating that the author of Mark explains that the disciples got private lessons about what the parables mean. Don’t worry – like us, the disciples still don’t really ever figure it out.

But I think it’s also kind of wonderful (pun intended). It is a wondrous miracle when the tulips emerge from the ground or the lilacs burst into bloom overnight. Or when an idea is planted person starts to see or understand in a new way.The Reign of God is full of mystery and wonder.

Then Jesus gives us another way to imagine the Reign of God. Jesus says the Reign of God is like a mustard seed. This image would have been surprising and maybe even humorous to the listeners. A mustard seed is tiny. It was ordinary in first century Palestine. More importantly, it was a weed – not a planted crop. The mustard plant, or shrub, grew to be quite large given the size of the seed. Large enough to provide shelter. And they grew everywhere. But they weren’t grand like the lofty cedar. They were a shrub, a common weed. This image would have made people laugh.

Earlier this month, David and I traveled to Scotland with my parents, his parents, and my sister. We had a marvelous time. In light of everything we did, there is one odd and funny little story that sticks out as a favorite memory. It was a bench that I sat on with my dad and then with my mother-in-law. It was a special conversational bench that curved like an S so you face different directions but you are actually quite close. David & I had seen these in parks across the Yucatan and especially in Merida. I had loved them in Mexico, so my dad and I sat in the chair to visit. As we started talking, we heard some laughter. Naturally, we looked around. Suddenly we realized the laughter was coming from the chair – triggered by our sitting in it. Of course this caused us to laugh. And then once we started laughing, people all around did too.

The Reign of God is like a little chuckle that causes the person next to you to giggle which causes everyone around to laugh and then everyone suddenly feels better. Even things that make us laugh can help us learn. This laughably small mustard seed describes the God we follow. The Reign of God is like something seemingly insignificant that grows in abundant and uncontrolled ways and gives shelter to all. It grows wildly, not governed by rows or laws.

While it must have been comical to think of a scrubby mustard shrub in the same way as the lofty cedar Ezekiel spoke of, the result was the same. Both Ezekiel and Jesus spoke of trees that grow large enough for birds to live under them. Not certain kinds of birds. Every kind of bird. God provides shelter for all.

This is a beautiful image – and a description of the world God wants for us, a description of the Reign of God. This is the world God longs for and the world we hope for.

We have this hope because as Paul writes in his letter to the Corinthians – ^“Christ died for all, so that those who live might live no longer for themselves, but for the one who died and was raised for them…So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!”

We are new in Christ and we are called to live in new ways. And so, living for the one who died and was raised for us, we confess and we grieve the continued injustice of racism and indifference.

As people called to love and serve God and our neighbor, we listen to the needs of the most vulnerable among us seeking justice. We confess and grieve that three years ago today a young man who was raised in an ELCA congregation walked into a bible study at Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston, South Carolina and killed nine people because of his own racism. We confess and we grieve and we commit to ending racism.

God bring the low tree high and the high tree low.

As people called to love and serve God and our neighbor, we listen to the needs of the most vulnerable among us seeking shelter. We confess and grieve that our own government is separating parents from their children at our southern border. We commit to ending injustice.

God bring the low tree high and the high tree low.

 The Reign of God is like a seed that grows in the wild. It grows to provide abundant shelter for those who seek the shade of the cedar tree, the mustard plant, the mesquite shrub.

At different times in our lives, we all need God’s shelter. It may be an afternoon in June in the Iowa sunshine. Or it may be a much needed fit of laughter. Or it may be shelter from violence or racism or injustice or the hot desert sun.

We all need the shelter that comes from God in Jesus through the Spirit. And, thanks be to God, we all get it. So when we have shelter – what are we to do?

Just give thanks and kick back and enjoy the summer day? Sometimes – yes. Sit around and laugh? Sometimes, Yes. The Reign of God is like that.

And the Reign of God is like this. Each of us, in our own way, scatters a seed on the ground, helping it sprout and grow in to something that gives shelter to all kinds, not knowing how, but trusting in the earth and the One who makes it.

Third Sunday after Pentecost
June 10. 2018
Good Shepherd Lutheran Church
Decorah, Iowa
Rev. Marion Pruitt-Jefferson

First Reading: Genesis 3: 8-15; Psalm 130; Second Reading: 2 Corinthians 4: 13-5:1; Gospel: Mark 3: 20-35

Brief Reflections on the Scripture Readings – incorporating time for reflection

Beloved of God,

Grace and peace to you from our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

It is officially summer now. School’s out and the pool’s open……..people are outside on their bikes, going for walks, hanging out at the Whippy Dip, or kayaking down the Upper Iowa. It’s a season of the year when lots of regular activities are put on hold for a couple of months, and the often frantic pace of life slows down for time.

This morning I want us to be able to enjoy a little bit of a that summer time experience of slowing down – to take a few deep breaths, to open up just a bit of space in our lives to simply rest in God’s presence and be unhurried by the world’s demands.

For those of you worshipping with young children, please don’t be worried about these small open spaces in this part of the service today…. we always, always welcome the sounds of children in our midst, even as we rest in God.

After each lesson, we’ll have a few moments of silent reflection, followed by a brief commentary, and then another space for rest. This may feel really strange at first, but my hope is that you will simply let go of need to do something, and allow God’s still small voice speak in your hearts, and minds and bodies.

First Lesson – Genesis 3:8-15

⁸[Adam and Eve] heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden at the time of the evening breeze, and the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden.⁹But the Lord God called to the man, and said to him, “Where are you?” ¹⁰He said, “I heard the sound of you in the garden, and I was afraid, because I was naked; and I hid myself.” ¹¹He said, “Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten from the tree of which I commanded you not to eat?” ¹²The man said, “The woman whom you gave to be with me, she gave me fruit from the tree, and I ate.” ¹³Then the Lord God said to the woman, “What is this that you have done?” The woman said, “The serpent tricked me, and I ate.” ¹⁴The Lord God said to the serpent,
“Because you have done this,
cursed are you among all animals
and among all wild creatures;
upon your belly you shall go,
and dust you shall eat
all the days of your life.
¹⁵I will put enmity between you and the woman,
and between your offspring and hers;
he will strike your head,
and you will strike his heel.”

Reflection

The first couple are afraid, and ashamed, and are hiding from God – as if such a thing we’re really possible. They have disobeyed God and eaten from the tree of the knowledge of Good and Evil. Even though the narrative of the story suggests that God was ignorant of their wrongdoing, I’m pretty sure that the all-knowing, all-powerful God is perfectly well aware of what has taken place. And notice what God does. God comes to his beloved creatures, God still seeks fellowship with them, still desires to be in a relationship with them, even though they have disobeyed. God does not spurn them, or reject them, or even destroy them, as he said he would if they ate that forbidden fruit. Instead God goes to find them, and then asks them: What Happened? Adam first blames God – The woman YOU gave me, she made me do it – then blames Eve. Eve of course, blames the serpent who tricked her. They seem incapable of simply admitting that they messed up – and have done what they shouldn’t have. Why did they do that? Or more importantly, why do we do that – try to shift the blame and mitigate our own culpability? I thinks it’s because we doubt the possibility of real forgiveness, of ever being restored to a right relationship with someone we have hurt or wronged, or even with God. But this very first story about the consequences of sin has a loud and clear message for us – God does not, will not, and indeed cannot abandon us in our sin, or failure or brokenness. God persists in coming to us again and again, with generous forgiveness, taking us back into his arms of love and mercy. Yes there are very real consequences of sin. Adam and Eve are banished from the garden, and enter into the toil of daily life, earning their living by the sweat of their brow. But even outside the garden, God goes with them, and continues to tenderly care for them, making them clothing to wear, covering their shame with forgiveness, and providing for their needs. God just loves sinners.

Psalm 130

¹Out | of the depths
I cry to | you, O Lord;
²O Lord, | hear my voice!
Let your ears be attentive to the voice of my | supplication.
³If you were to keep watch | over sins,
O Lord, | who could stand?
⁴Yet with you | is forgiveness,
in order that you | may be feared. R
⁵I wait for you, O Lord; | my soul waits;
in your word | is my hope.
⁶My soul waits for the Lord more than those who keep watch | for the morning,
more than those who keep watch | for the morning.
⁷O Israel, wait for the Lord, for with the Lord there is | steadfast love;
with the Lord there is plen- | teous redemption.
⁸For the Lord shall | redeem Israel
from | all their sins. R

Reflection

Psalm 130 is considered to be a penitential psalm – a song that cries out for God’s forgiveness of sins. That’s why we usually sing this psalm during the season of Lent. You may remember that during Lent 2017, Brooke wrote a beautiful series of pieces for choir and soloist based upon this Psalm.

But I want to say to you that when I hear this psalm,  I hear the voice of someone who is crying out to God from the depths of nearly unbearable emotional pain. I hear the cry of a person who is trapped in the depths of depression – with all the despair, anguish, and hopelessness that depression brings with it. Maybe that’s why I’m drawn to this psalm – because in the voice of the psalmist, I recognize my own life-long struggle with depression. When you are in the depths of depression, it feels as though you are living at the bottom of a deep pit – a place of isolation, estrangement , where there is no light, or hope……a place where even death can begin to appear as a friend.

I disclose this to you because I know that it is so very, very difficult to talk about mental health issues. There is still such stigma and shame associated with depression and other mental illnesses. Even though medical science has begun to understand some of the physical causes of mental illness, many people, still believe that it is a sign of personal weakness, and that if we just tried harder to be like other people – who seem to be naturally optimistic, joyful, and positive, we would get over it – we could be bright and shiny like everyone else.

But that is not true. Healing for mental illness needs the attention of medical doctors, skilled counselors, a supportive community and the love and care of those closest to us. And equally important, we need to hear again and again that even in the depths of depression, God is with us. God does not abandon us to our deepest fears nor leave us in the depths of our despair. God’s will is for healing and wholeness for all of us – no matter the nature of our affliction. For with the Lord there is steadfast love – with the Lord there is plenteous redemption – plenteous healing for all that is wounded in our hearts, and minds and bodies. Please know that if you are struggling with depression, Pr. Amy and I are always available to talk with you and to pray with you, and to help you connect with other professional resources.

Second Lesson – 2 Corinthians 4:13–5:1

¹³Just as we have the same spirit of faith that is in accordance with scripture—”I believed, and so I spoke”—we also believe, and so we speak, ¹⁴because we know that the one who raised the Lord Jesus will raise us also with Jesus, and will bring us with you into his presence. ¹⁵Yes, everything is for your sake, so that grace, as it extends to more and more people, may increase thanksgiving, to the glory of God.

¹⁶So we do not lose heart. Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. ¹⁷For this slight momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure, ¹⁸because we look not at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen; for what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal.
^5:1For we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.

Reflection

So we do not lose hope…..

When Paul wrote these words to the church in Corinth, he himself was probably undergoing some great suffering. We know he had what he called a “thorn in his flesh” – some type of physical ailment that continued to afflict him. We know that at various times he was beaten and jailed, held in chains, publicly flogged, threatened with execution, and run out of town. And yet he proclaims: We Do Not Lose Hope – We do not lose hope, Paul says, because we know…..We know that God is always and continually at work in our lives and in our world to bring about renewal – and we believe that God’s good intentions, God’s will for us and for all creation will ultimately prevail. We do not lose hope, because we know that God is a God of Justice, and that God’s justice will be victorious over all of the faulty, frail, and false judgments of this world. We do not lose hope because we see in Jesus’ death and resurrection that God’s power and God’s great love overcome all death. We do not lose hope because we know that God’s creative and renewing Spirit is continually blowing through our world and our lives – and that this same Spirit, the Spirit through which everything that is was created – will bring us and all creation to completion and to what Paul describes as “an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure.”

Sisters and brothers, Where are those “even though” places in your life? ……In our country? ……In our World? Look closely, because those are the precisely the places where God shows up.

Holy Gospel – Mark 3:20-35

[Jesus went home;] ²⁰and the crowd came together again, so that [Jesus and the disciples] could not even eat. ²¹When his family heard it, they went out to restrain him, for people were saying, “He has gone out of his mind.” ²²And the scribes who came down from Jerusalem said, “He has Beelzebul, and by the ruler of the demons he casts out demons.” ²³And he called them to him, and spoke to them in parables, “How can Satan cast out Satan? ²⁴If a kingdom is divided against itself, that kingdom cannot stand. ²⁵And if a house is divided against itself, that house will not be able to stand. ²⁶And if Satan has risen up against himself and is divided, he cannot stand, but his end has come. ²⁷But no one can enter a strong man’s house and plunder his property without first tying up the strong man; then indeed the house can be plundered.
²⁸“Truly I tell you, people will be forgiven for their sins and whatever blasphemies they utter; ²⁹but whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit can never have forgiveness, but is guilty of an eternal sin”—³⁰for they had said, “He has an unclean spirit.”
³¹Then his mother and his brothers came; and standing outside, they sent to him and called him. ³²A crowd was sitting around him; and they said to him, “Your mother and your brothers and sisters are outside, asking for you.” ³³And he replied, “Who are my mother and my brothers?” ³⁴And looking at those who sat around him, he said, “Here are my mother and my

Reflection

There is a lot of tough stuff in this passage, so I’ll say that if you want to talk about things like Beelzebul and demon possession and what it may mean to blaspheme against the Holy Spirit, then let’s sit down together after worship – because what I want to talk about is the notion of Family.

Jesus had been out and about, gathering his disciples, and restoring countless numbers of people to health and wholeness, and now it’s time to go home – maybe have a bit of rest. But a whole big crowd of people follow him – so many people with so many hurts, and wounds and pain that need Jesus’ healing touch and tender care. Imagine if your daughter came home from college completely exhausted and a hundred other students followed her home and stood out in your yard and kept calling for her – Your my best friend, I need to talk to you……Come out, I need you to help me study for my bio final……Please….I just have to talk to you about my boyfriend,…….

I imagine it was something like that for Jesus’ mom and siblings. They could see how tired Jesus was, and how all that helping and healing had just worn him down, until it was so bad that people were saying that he was losing it. So they step in to protect Jesus – to get him to rest, and recover himself. But Jesus refuses to be restrained – even by those who love him and want the best for him. In Jesus, the Kingdom of God has come near, and Jesus will not be limited by any forces that stand in the way of his mission – not even those in his own family.

So when Jesus is sitting in the neighbor’s house, in a room crowded with all those hurting people, and his kinfolk come to take care of him, he won’t be moved. No matter what it costs him, and it will cost him his life, he will not abandon all those people for whom he has such deep compassion. When they tell him is family is outside waiting for him, Jesus simply looks around at all those people that his heart is reaching out to, and he says: Here is my family. Notice that he doesn’t say that his mom and siblings are not his family – he just knocks down that barrier of the small and narrow definition of family, and opens it wide to include, well, everyone – all of you gathered here this morning, all those who cannot be with us, all those who have gone before us, all those who are lonely and isolated and struggling to find a place where they belong, all people who long for a genuine sense of connection.

Jesus throws open the door and lets everyone in – calls everyone to sit at table at with him and with one another and to feast on the bread and wine which fill us with Jesus’ own life – for our own healing and wholeness, and for the sake of the world that God so dearly loves.

Second Sunday after Pentecost
Reconciling in Christ Sunday,
June 3, 2018
Good Shepherd Lutheran Church
Decorah, Iowa
Rev. Amy Zalk Larson

Click here to read scripture passages for the day.

Beloved of God, grace to you and peace in the name of Jesus.

Last week, when I was in Washington, DC, I heard some powerful preaching and teaching. Perhaps the most powerful, for me, was a story about a woman named Ms. Virginia Jones. Ms. Virginia was the build- ing president in a low-income housing area in New Jersey. One day a young lawyer came to talk with her.

He’d just moved into the building because he wanted to make a difference in a struggling community. He sought out Ms. Virginia to tell her he was there to help her. Ms. Virginia looked skeptical. He made sure to tell her he was a graduate of Stanford and Yale Law School – mentioned that a few times, actually. She didn’t seem overjoyed by his presence, so he just kept talking.

Finally, she interrupted him and said, “Follow me”. She led him down to the street and said, “Tell me what you see.” The young lawyer described the crack houses, the crime, the things that had been stolen from his car the night he moved in- all the problems. The more he talked, the more disappointed she looked. Finally, she shook her head, “You can’t help me”, and she walked away.

The young lawyer ran and caught up with her. “What do you mean, what are you talking about?” he asked. Ms. Virginia turned and said, “Boy, you need to understand something. The world you see outside of you is a reflection of what you have inside you. If you are one of those people who only sees darkness and despair and problems, that’s all there’s gonna to be. But if you are one of those stubborn people who every time you open your eyes you see beauty, you see love, you see possibilities, you see the face of God, then you can be one of those people who helps me.” What we see matters.

In our Gospel story today, the Pharisees spend a lot of time looking at Jesus, watching him closely, but they don’t see clearly.

When Jesus and his hungry disciples pick some heads of grain, the Pharisees say, “Look, why are they doing what is not lawful on the sabbath?” As Jesus enters the synagogue, the Pharisees keep their eyes locked on him. A man with a withered hand approaches Jesus. The Pharisees watch to see whether Jesus will cure on the sabbath, so that they might accuse him of breaking the law. When they look at the man with the withered hand, they don’t see a beloved child of God. Instead, they see an opportunity to trap Jesus.

Jesus looks at the Pharisees with anger, grieved at their hardness of heart. Jesus looks at them the way Ms. Virginia looked at that young lawyer. He knows that they can’t see clearly because their hearts are hardened.

Jesus must so often look at us the same way – grieved at our hardness of heart and our inability to really see one another.

Jesus must so often want to take us out on the streets of our country and ask us, “Tell me, what do you see?” If Jesus asked us this, I think we’d tell him about all the problems, all the difficult people who just don’t get it, who need to be corrected. “They are so angry, so judgmental, so extreme.” And then I think Jesus would say something like, “The world you see outside of you is a reflection of what you have inside of you.” Jesus sees all of that junk inside each of us and it grieves him. But that isn’t all he sees. Jesus also sees so much beauty, love and possibility, so much of God in each and every one of us. Jesus sees you for who you truly are: beloved, precious child of God and beautiful to behold. Jesus gazes upon us with love.

Being regarded in this way, with love, can change our hearts and help us to see differently.

Some other insight I received last week from contemplative teacher Richard Rohr helped to flesh this out for me. He described our tendency to see in a dualistic way – dividing the world between good and bad, right and wrong, black and white – and then assigning people to these categories.

This kind of seeing hardens our hearts and keeps us from beholding others as beloved of God. Yet, when we experience God’s loving gaze and know our original goodness, then we can look at others with respect.

To respect someone, Rohr said, literally means to take a second look – re-spect, relook. The first time we look at someone, our instincts kick in. We make quick judgements and stereotype – that’s what our brain does. We assess quickly: is this person safe, is this person like me, are we in the same tribe? That is natur- al and instinctual; but if we only look that way, we don’t truly see the other person.

We show respect to a person when we look at them again in order to see beyond the quick judgement, to behold the person as beloved of God. When we are regarded with love, then we can offer another loving look to others.

For centuries, the church has viewed people who are lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer with judgment. They’ve been seen as a problem. Yet the problem is not out there with those people, the problem is within – within the church’s way of thinking and interpreting scripture that has been so influenced by dualism. Dualistic thinking leads us to demand rigid separations between male and female, gay and straight, body and spirit. It leads us to demand conformity. Thanks be to God, the church is taking another loving look at our LGBTQ siblings. And these siblings are helping the church to move beyond dualistic thinking, helping the church to see that God didn’t make a world that is black and white with maybe a few dull shades of gray in-between. God made the rainbow – all of us. God made you and God adores you.

Whenever we judge and condemn each other, as we all do in so many ways, God looks upon us with anger, grieved at our hardness of heart. Yet even then, God also looks upon us with such love. God always sees beyond all our faults and failings. God always see you as beloved, precious child of God and beautiful to behold.

May God’s long, loving look at each of us change our hearts – may it help us to see one another with love.

Let’s take a moment of silent prayer.

May 27, 2018
Holy Trinity Sunday
Good Shepherd Lutheran Church
Decorah, IA
Rev. Amy Zalk Larson

Click here to read scripture passages for the day.

Beloved of God, grace to you and peace in the name of our Triune God.

“Woe is me,” says the prophet Isaiah in our first reading today, “Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips.”

These days we sometimes say, “woe is me” in a mocking way, “oh woe is me my life is so hard” but for Isaiah these words are a real lament. As Isaiah considers his own life and the state of his country he is overcome with guilt, shame and sorrow. Anyone relate to that?

In Isaiah’s time, the people have forgotten and forsaken God, they engage in futile worship, their leaders are corrupt and greed has led to injustice. Sound familiar?

Woe is me for I have unclean lips and I live among a people of unclean lips.Just be thankful, dear prophet Isaiah, that you lived before talk radio, cable news and social media.

This week I traveled to Washington DC for a preaching conference. I am rather obsessed with getting to the airport early after some bad experiences. On Monday, I took that a little far and was at the boarding gate by 4:30 am for a 7am flight. Needless to say, my friend and I were the only people at the gate area for quite a while which meant there was no other noise to drown out the cable news shows blaring on the TVs overhead. CNN and FOX news were battling it out right there at Gate E6 before the sun rose. Let’s just say “woe is me” was not the only utterance that crossed my unclean lips that morning as I lamented living among a people of unclean lips.

The vehemence, the vitriol, the hatred spewed out all around us, all the time, by our own lips, by people and leaders who profess to be Christian while advancing their own agenda-it is all really just too much. Woe is me. Woe is our world.

Yet Isaiah’s story doesn’t end with woe is me, it ends with him saying, send me. How do we move from woe is me to send me? That was the question I was asked to consider again and again this week at the preaching conference right in the heart of our nation’s capital.

Many of the events were held at the Metropolitan African Methodist Episcopal Church. Security to enter the building was really tight after the 2016 shooting at Mother Immanuel AME in Charleston, a somber reminder. But once we got inside, things were anything but somber.

I went through two full packs of Kleenex as preacher after preacher convicted and uplifted us One preacher was Bishop Yvette Flunder, a black lesbian woman who is actively working for justice all the time. She acknowledged the woe is me mentality that is so prevalent among us today. But she pushed back. There’s too much lament, anxiety, worry, grief, anger, sorrow, despair, she said. There’s not enough dancing. It takes faith to dance in a time like this. You don’t have to wait for the battle to be over. You can dance now. You know how the battle ends.”

She got a whole bunch of white mainline preachers to get up and join our black colleagues in dancing and praising God. Perhaps even more remarkable, she, and so many of the preachers this week, renewed our hope.

Then Thursday night we got to be with some of the most respected elders of the Christian faith as they lead a prayer vigil called Reclaiming Jesus. Elders like Michael Curry of royal wedding fame, Catholic contemplative Richard Rohr, Old Testament scholar Walter Bruggemann and Evangelical leaders Tony Compolo and Jim Wallis, are among a diverse group of Christian leaders seeking to Reclaim Jesus.

These leaders gathered for a prayer retreat this spring amid their concerns about the soul of our nation and the integrity of the Christian faith. They issued a powerful statement, that I encourage you to read at the website ReclaimingJesus.org I’ll share it this week. These elders also called for Christians to gather this week for a prayer service and a silent prayer vigil to the White House.

Many of the 1700 preachers gathered for the conference showed up. Many, many other people from a wide range of Christian denominations and political perspectives did as well. Republicans, Democrats, progressive and conservatives came together.

We prayed and sang and then walked silently together through the streets of DC seeking to reclaim the name of Jesus for the sake of our nation and our Christian witness. It was one of the most powerful experiences of the body of Christ that I have ever experienced. It moved me from woe is me, to send me. Woe is me. Woe is our world.

Yes- But even greater is God’s glory. Even greater is the voice of our triune God—calling all creation into being, speaking forgiveness for a world gone mad, praying for us with sighs too deep for words. Even greater is God’s victory over sin and death.

God gives Isaiah what he needs- a live coal to clean his lips. His guilt departs from him, his sin is blotted out. Then Isaiah, who has said “woe is me” can say “here I am, send me.”

Each week as we gather, God gives us what we need to move from woe is me, to send me-. We hear powerful words of scripture read, interpreted and prayed in ways that open our hearts. We join God’s people, all the hosts of heaven including seraphim and cherubim in singing holy, holy, holy just as they did in Isaiah’s vision. We hear words of forgiveness as Jesus feeds us and cleanses our lips. We are transformed by the triune God: adopted by the Father, freed by the Son, empowered by the Spirit. We have what we need to hope, to dance, to speak in ways that uplift and set others free, to go forth and serve.

Here we are God, send us.