Pastor Ken Jones preached this Epiphany sermon on Matthew 2:1-2 on January 10, 2012, in chapel at Grand View University, Des Moines, Iowa.
There’s a great old James Taylor song about our wise guys from the East coming to visit Jesus. It’s called “Home by Another Way.” I don’t know what his religious leanings are, but I think he’s on to something about the story in our reading today. He sings, “A king who would slaughter the innocents will not cut a deal for you. Then warned in a dream of King Herod’s scheme, they went home by another way.”
The warning isn’t just for the Magi, it’s for us, too. There’s danger in heading back King Herod’s way. He’s the epitome of power and glory, and once you head down that road there’s no escaping him. That’s the dark underbelly of falling prey to the allure of glory and success as a way to measure yourself and especially as a way to get yourself home to God. Once you step onto that path, it’s a never-ending string of demands that, in the end, are going to kill you. If I glory in the response to my preaching, I’ll only ever be as good as my last sermon. Tim Tebow is only as good as his last game, or even his last pass. You’re only as good as your collective GPA. And there’s always the next thing. You’ve gotta hold up the glorious standard. It’s what lay behind King Herod’s fear. The appearance of another king born in Bethlehem meant he had to work harder to maintain his grip on his future. The easiest way to do that is to eliminate your opponent by killing the innocents in Bethlehem and conniving to kill the three wise men. Even if he’d done it, it though, the demand to keep the illusion of control going would have hounded him until his dying day. Striving, working, fighting – they’re no way to get home to God.
But the three magi going home by another way. The way home is not the visible glory of success or adherence to the Law or performance of any good works, for there is no one who is truly successful, obedient to the Law or absolutely good than Christ. You haven’t got it in you. But the other way home is a strange path and most often unchosen path, because it leads to the cross. It’s the path of the one who says, "I am the way, the truth and the life." You see, God calls you home by an unexpected route. It starts with the unlikely event of God appearing as a real baby, flesh and bone. In Jesus succumbing to the Law's accusation already in his baptism. In his hanging out with sinners. On Golgotha where he who no sin became sin for you. And in the utterly unforeseen event on that third day outside Jerusalem. Where your life is upside down and where you find your cross, you will find yourself linked to Christ. Where you die with him, you will rise with him.
That's your new map home. Your way home to God isn’t through prosperity, NFL touchdowns and end zone prayers, or even in achieving an A in my Ethics course. Instead it leads you down the Christ road. And you’re not alone in the walk down to the cross and to your home with God, for God himself walks with you in Christ Jesus and he provides fellow walkers – other believers who hold your hand as you wander down into ultimates like death, salvation, resurrection and the forgiveness of your all sins.
As a reminder today, that Christ is your way, your path, your other way home, I’m going to ask you to leave at the end of the service not by the doors at the back there. Instead, I’d like you to leave by this door up front. Like Christ’s path that leads down into the cross and into the fellowship of the saints, this way out goes down into the kitchen and out into the fellowship hall and, eventually out into the world. Have a great trip home. Bon voyage. Amen.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Wait. Get Ready.
This sermon was preached by Rachel Dachenbach, Grand View elementary education and music major, in chapel on November 29, 2011. It is based on Mark 13-24-37.
“Please wait to be seated.”
“If you have been waiting for more than fifteen minutes, please check in with the receptionist.”“Loading…40%...this may take a few minutes. Please wait.”
Either our world is full of very patient people, or we are so far from patient that we need to be reminded to sit quietly, open a magazine, and wait for our name to be called. Maybe it’s a little bit of both.
I personally fall into that second category. Since July, I’ve been waiting (somewhat nervously, I must confess) for my chance to speak here today. The cast of Twelfth Night is anxiously awaiting their upcoming production. Football fans are eagerly waiting for playoffs and the Super Bowl, expectant mothers prepare for the birth of their children, and all of us here are on the edge of our seats as we try to survive “dead week” and finals to arrive at our much needed Christmas break. We do so while tapping our foot or folding our arms, with sighs or throat clears as though to say, “Is it my turn yet?”
Today’s gospel talks about waiting: waiting for the Lord. “Beware, keep alert, for you do not know when the time will come.” “But in these days, after that suffering, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.”
Woah. When I first heard these verses, they hit me like a ton of bricks. “The sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light.” God is not dropping in like your sister-in-law from out of town, for an afternoon cup of coffee, but rather, he is coming like the family in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. For those of you who have not seen it, there is a part where all the grandparents of the family come to the door just before Christmas. The doorbell rings ominously, and as the door opens, in swarms a host of relatives, stories, and suitcases. God is coming. He’s brought his luggage, and he’ll be here to stay. We are waiting for all of these things to take place, but what we are waiting for is more than just relatives at Christmas. We are waiting for something that we can’t exactly feel, can’t exactly picture, and can’t really anticipate the power of the events that are to take place.
“But about that day or hour, no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the son, but only the Father.” These words, as often as I’ve heard them, have often been met with somber gazes and looks of deep thought across many different groups of people and church congregations. It’s scary. Why? Because of the unknown. Because God isn’t a guest we have often, and when he comes, we can welcome him as best as we can, but we still wonder whether or not he will feel at home, want to stay, or even accept the hospitality mere humans can offer.
This passage used to be very frightening for me, and I feel that it is God’s will that I speak on it today. I worried that I wouldn’t be ready, that I would be found unworthy, or that I wouldn’t be accepted by the one whom I had called Lord for so long. But God led me through his word, and through him I have been taken from gloom into promise. Let me show you how.
“So, also, when you see these things taking place, you know that he is near, at the very gates.” What can this mean for us? Jesus is referring to trials and tribulations that come with the end times. Yes, but instead of fear that makes us say, “Oh man, God is coming and I’ve been found unprepared,” he is nearby, “at the very gates,” saying, “Hold on, Rachel. Hold on Keyla. Hold on, Dr. Jones. I’m right here beside you.”
The Lord says, “Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.” These verses blew me out of the water. Even through all the junk life hands us, even through any sort of doubt and confusion, God gives us his promise that even if the very sky begins to fall as it one day will, his word says that he will pick up the pieces and put it all back together, no matter how shattered and broken it has become. God does this for us, too. When we are at rock bottom in the muck and the mire, God places his hand fast around us, and pulls us through every terrible thing all the way back up to cloud nine. People recover from illness. People grieve and eventually make it through the loss of a loved one. People rebound from crimes that have been committed against them and learn to forgive, and all this is God’s promise that “His words will not pass away.”
Advent is upon us. It is a time of waiting for the Lord, waiting for the Christ child to come, but it is also a time for us to remember that while we are waiting, God is right there. So, let us wait. And wait. And wait some more. But let us not wait in fear, but rather in the promise that the Lord will come to us in the meantime. God is coming in glory. Heaven and earth will pass away, but God’s promise never will die. His promise to hold us fast in the storms that come with our wait can give us hope in times of fear, and joy in times of sorrow.
Martin Luther, in his Small Catechism, addresses the second petition of the Lord’s Prayer, “your kingdom come,” and says this: “God’s kingdom comes when our heavenly Father gives us His Holy Spirit, so that by his grace we believe in his holy Word, and live a godly life on earth now and in heaven forever.”
So let us pray for God’s kingdom to come, and while we wait upon the Lord, let us be strengthened in Word and in love for one another, and in this meal that God has sent for us that we are about to share. May we all find God in our lives here and now, while we wait. Amen.
“Please wait to be seated.”
“If you have been waiting for more than fifteen minutes, please check in with the receptionist.”“Loading…40%...this may take a few minutes. Please wait.”
Either our world is full of very patient people, or we are so far from patient that we need to be reminded to sit quietly, open a magazine, and wait for our name to be called. Maybe it’s a little bit of both.
I personally fall into that second category. Since July, I’ve been waiting (somewhat nervously, I must confess) for my chance to speak here today. The cast of Twelfth Night is anxiously awaiting their upcoming production. Football fans are eagerly waiting for playoffs and the Super Bowl, expectant mothers prepare for the birth of their children, and all of us here are on the edge of our seats as we try to survive “dead week” and finals to arrive at our much needed Christmas break. We do so while tapping our foot or folding our arms, with sighs or throat clears as though to say, “Is it my turn yet?”
Today’s gospel talks about waiting: waiting for the Lord. “Beware, keep alert, for you do not know when the time will come.” “But in these days, after that suffering, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.”
Woah. When I first heard these verses, they hit me like a ton of bricks. “The sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light.” God is not dropping in like your sister-in-law from out of town, for an afternoon cup of coffee, but rather, he is coming like the family in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. For those of you who have not seen it, there is a part where all the grandparents of the family come to the door just before Christmas. The doorbell rings ominously, and as the door opens, in swarms a host of relatives, stories, and suitcases. God is coming. He’s brought his luggage, and he’ll be here to stay. We are waiting for all of these things to take place, but what we are waiting for is more than just relatives at Christmas. We are waiting for something that we can’t exactly feel, can’t exactly picture, and can’t really anticipate the power of the events that are to take place.
“But about that day or hour, no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the son, but only the Father.” These words, as often as I’ve heard them, have often been met with somber gazes and looks of deep thought across many different groups of people and church congregations. It’s scary. Why? Because of the unknown. Because God isn’t a guest we have often, and when he comes, we can welcome him as best as we can, but we still wonder whether or not he will feel at home, want to stay, or even accept the hospitality mere humans can offer.
This passage used to be very frightening for me, and I feel that it is God’s will that I speak on it today. I worried that I wouldn’t be ready, that I would be found unworthy, or that I wouldn’t be accepted by the one whom I had called Lord for so long. But God led me through his word, and through him I have been taken from gloom into promise. Let me show you how.
“So, also, when you see these things taking place, you know that he is near, at the very gates.” What can this mean for us? Jesus is referring to trials and tribulations that come with the end times. Yes, but instead of fear that makes us say, “Oh man, God is coming and I’ve been found unprepared,” he is nearby, “at the very gates,” saying, “Hold on, Rachel. Hold on Keyla. Hold on, Dr. Jones. I’m right here beside you.”
The Lord says, “Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.” These verses blew me out of the water. Even through all the junk life hands us, even through any sort of doubt and confusion, God gives us his promise that even if the very sky begins to fall as it one day will, his word says that he will pick up the pieces and put it all back together, no matter how shattered and broken it has become. God does this for us, too. When we are at rock bottom in the muck and the mire, God places his hand fast around us, and pulls us through every terrible thing all the way back up to cloud nine. People recover from illness. People grieve and eventually make it through the loss of a loved one. People rebound from crimes that have been committed against them and learn to forgive, and all this is God’s promise that “His words will not pass away.”
Advent is upon us. It is a time of waiting for the Lord, waiting for the Christ child to come, but it is also a time for us to remember that while we are waiting, God is right there. So, let us wait. And wait. And wait some more. But let us not wait in fear, but rather in the promise that the Lord will come to us in the meantime. God is coming in glory. Heaven and earth will pass away, but God’s promise never will die. His promise to hold us fast in the storms that come with our wait can give us hope in times of fear, and joy in times of sorrow.
Martin Luther, in his Small Catechism, addresses the second petition of the Lord’s Prayer, “your kingdom come,” and says this: “God’s kingdom comes when our heavenly Father gives us His Holy Spirit, so that by his grace we believe in his holy Word, and live a godly life on earth now and in heaven forever.”
So let us pray for God’s kingdom to come, and while we wait upon the Lord, let us be strengthened in Word and in love for one another, and in this meal that God has sent for us that we are about to share. May we all find God in our lives here and now, while we wait. Amen.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
A Sermon on the Parable of the Talents in Five Sentences
This sermon by Pastor Ken Jones was preached for the commissioning service for Grand View University's first ten Peer Ministers on November 15, 2011. It is based on the Parable of the Talents in Matthew 25.
- The world of Jesus’ parable is an upside-down one, where people who are responsible and safe get condemned and cast out, left to weep and gnash their teeth.
- But extravagant, foolish risk-taking behavior is praised to the point that the master responds by giving even more to take a chance on.
- The safe investors can’t risk a thing, because they can only see a God who is stingy and legalistic, but the foolish risk-takers can step out in faith, because they’ve come to trust God as patient, long-suffering and abounding in love.
- Our ten Peer Ministers today are being set apart, in no small measure because they’re people whose God is so big that they can risk serving others, including you.
- And in the end, it’s the guy who tells our parable, Jesus Christ, who gives them, and you, a God big enough and loving enough that you can risk it all. Amen.
The Bridegroom Is Coming
Jason Barnes preached this sermon (based on Matthew 25:1-13, The Parable of the Ten Bridesmaids} in the Grand View University chapel service on November 8, 2011. Jason is a religion major from Norwalk, Iowa.
We are almost to the end of the church year if you didn’t know that. This is the time of the year where we remember how Christ will come back. Today’s reading shows us what that will be like.
What you should know about a first-century wedding is that it was a very big deal. Weddings today were nothing like the weddings back then. The wedding would actually take about a whole week partying. The bridesmaids were probably very eager to get to that party and probably left during daylight to get there. The people at the party would probably look at the 5 bridesmaids with so much oil and think there were very dumb to bring that much. But to the other 5’s surprise the groom took his time and the 5 who weren’t ready ran out of oil by the time it was time to go in. So since they weren’t ready the bridegroom disowned them. Even though they were a trusted part of the family.
There was one time during a winter storm where I ran out of gas along East 14th. I knew I was low. It was in my old and pretty much broken down car where the heat barely worked and with so much traffic around me where I was to the point of looking in my rear view mirror to wait for someone to hit me. I was in a bad spot to be honest. Also besides the fact that it was 9 o’clock at night and very dark. I just trusted I could get to my destination and back with enough. I was wrong though. I ran out and kept from destination. Just like the 10 bridesmaids. I was basically told the whole “I don’t know you” and it hurt. I felt stupid, helpless, and hurt. My dad drove 45 min. through the winter storm from Norwalk to come give me some gas and even pay for the full tank when I got to the gas station. He basically came to save me. I was also late to Dr. Mattes class that night which knowing my luck that night, eventually got cancelled anyway. You see I was lucky my dad loved me enough to come and get me. The bridesmaids, not so lucky.
Isn’t that a scary feeling though? The bridegroom coming up to you and saying that they do not know you? It seems like you are being judged or condemned. You feel as if you are the lowest of the low. There is more than judgment though. There is something hidden in this parable. Jesus IS your bridegroom. But what kind of bridegroom is he? He is the type of bridegroom that does know you. He is the one that will take the people that do not belong. He is there make you feel welcome and wanted. To make you see that all you need is faith in Him to be a part of something spectacular.
It is the faith that gets you into the party. The faith comes from the word of God. It is an external promise for you: He is coming. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but he is coming. There is a campfire song I learned at the Bible camp I attended: “Jesus is coming back some day, Could be tomorrow could be today. Jesus is coming back I know for the Bible tells me so. So praise the Lord. Alleluia! Amen! Praise the Lord. Jesus is coming back again.”
Just keep watch for you do not know the day or the hour. I learned in my New Testament class last year that people used to quit their jobs and sit on their roofs waiting for Christ to come. I’m not telling you to be that extreme. But just be ready because Jesus is coming.
What is that going to be like when he does come back? There is a song I learned when I was at bible camp that was called “We Will Dance” and the lyrics share just what it will be like when the bridegroom comes.
Sing a song of celebration.
Lift up a shout of praise for the Bridegroom will come.
The glorious one.
And we will look on His face.
We’ll go to a much better place.
Dance with all your might.
Lift up your hand and clap for joy
For the time’s drawing near when he will appear.
We will stand by his side,
A strong, pure, spotless bride.
We will dance on streets that are golden.
The glorious bride and the great Son of Man.
For every tongue and tribe and nation
Will join in the song of the lamb.
Amen
We are almost to the end of the church year if you didn’t know that. This is the time of the year where we remember how Christ will come back. Today’s reading shows us what that will be like.
What you should know about a first-century wedding is that it was a very big deal. Weddings today were nothing like the weddings back then. The wedding would actually take about a whole week partying. The bridesmaids were probably very eager to get to that party and probably left during daylight to get there. The people at the party would probably look at the 5 bridesmaids with so much oil and think there were very dumb to bring that much. But to the other 5’s surprise the groom took his time and the 5 who weren’t ready ran out of oil by the time it was time to go in. So since they weren’t ready the bridegroom disowned them. Even though they were a trusted part of the family.
There was one time during a winter storm where I ran out of gas along East 14th. I knew I was low. It was in my old and pretty much broken down car where the heat barely worked and with so much traffic around me where I was to the point of looking in my rear view mirror to wait for someone to hit me. I was in a bad spot to be honest. Also besides the fact that it was 9 o’clock at night and very dark. I just trusted I could get to my destination and back with enough. I was wrong though. I ran out and kept from destination. Just like the 10 bridesmaids. I was basically told the whole “I don’t know you” and it hurt. I felt stupid, helpless, and hurt. My dad drove 45 min. through the winter storm from Norwalk to come give me some gas and even pay for the full tank when I got to the gas station. He basically came to save me. I was also late to Dr. Mattes class that night which knowing my luck that night, eventually got cancelled anyway. You see I was lucky my dad loved me enough to come and get me. The bridesmaids, not so lucky.
Isn’t that a scary feeling though? The bridegroom coming up to you and saying that they do not know you? It seems like you are being judged or condemned. You feel as if you are the lowest of the low. There is more than judgment though. There is something hidden in this parable. Jesus IS your bridegroom. But what kind of bridegroom is he? He is the type of bridegroom that does know you. He is the one that will take the people that do not belong. He is there make you feel welcome and wanted. To make you see that all you need is faith in Him to be a part of something spectacular.
It is the faith that gets you into the party. The faith comes from the word of God. It is an external promise for you: He is coming. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but he is coming. There is a campfire song I learned at the Bible camp I attended: “Jesus is coming back some day, Could be tomorrow could be today. Jesus is coming back I know for the Bible tells me so. So praise the Lord. Alleluia! Amen! Praise the Lord. Jesus is coming back again.”
Just keep watch for you do not know the day or the hour. I learned in my New Testament class last year that people used to quit their jobs and sit on their roofs waiting for Christ to come. I’m not telling you to be that extreme. But just be ready because Jesus is coming.
What is that going to be like when he does come back? There is a song I learned when I was at bible camp that was called “We Will Dance” and the lyrics share just what it will be like when the bridegroom comes.
Sing a song of celebration.
Lift up a shout of praise for the Bridegroom will come.
The glorious one.
And we will look on His face.
We’ll go to a much better place.
Dance with all your might.
Lift up your hand and clap for joy
For the time’s drawing near when he will appear.
We will stand by his side,
A strong, pure, spotless bride.
We will dance on streets that are golden.
The glorious bride and the great Son of Man.
For every tongue and tribe and nation
Will join in the song of the lamb.
Amen
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Keyla Spahr's chapel sermon
This sermon was preached in chapel services at Grand View University on October 18, 2011, by senior Theatre and Music major Keyla Spahr.
Hi there, if you hadn’t looked down at your bulletin because you were so transfixed by the beautiful song you just heard, I am Keyla Spahr, a senior here at Grand View, double majoring in Theatre Arts and Music. When Dr. Jones asked me this summer to give a sermon in the fall, I was terrified. I was terrified when I read the bulletin last week saying I was preaching today. I was terrified yesterday. In theatre, I am someone else, I can perform the most extreme things, while in here, I’m just Keyla. You see me, not the role I have been taught to play. So I stand before you vulnerable, hoping God speaks to you through my words here today. So here it goes.
The scripture you just heard from Psalm 96 is one I relate to on a very deep level. In May of my sophomore year here, I was fortunate enough to get the opportunity to travel to Italy and Greece for a May term study abroad trip. While in Greece, our group traveled to many places, like the Acropolis, Naufpleon, the original capitol of Greece, and my favorite of the entire trip, and one of my favorite things I have seen in my lifetime so far, Theatre Epidaurus. This is the most intact theatre in the entire ancient world. I had the exciting chance to be able to perform a monologue and a song in this theatre. The second I stood on the stone piece center stage, I sang my first note, the entire place quieted, and I felt the note hit me. Like punch me right in the face. The acoustics were the best I have ever experienced. I kept singing, as tears rolled down my face, teachers and peers on the trip watching me on my right all the way up at the top of the stone seats, not knowing what was happening to me. On my left were people from a different tour group who barely spoke English. I felt each person breathing with me, seeing what I was seeing, feeling the warm Grecian wind on my back as I sang stronger and stronger. As I reached my final note I held onto it, trying so hard to not forget the moment that I had just had with God. Luckily, when I let go, the memory was still there.
Have you ever had one of those moments, where in everything, God breaks down any wall you could have possibly put up between yourself and Him? He brought me from a world I had always known into a world I had never experienced outside of a textbook. God was in the ancient world of Greece and of the Scriptures just as he is in our present and our future.
Music and Christ has always been that thing I can turn to when the world turns it’s back on me. Truthfully, it’s Christ alone that can heal me in my most awful times when even the songs seem to have no words. Christ has never abandoned. Just as Joseph and Moses were carried in their times of need, God has carried me, given me this wonderful gift to make music and to share music with others. God has brought us into a world that is much different than music and theatre in Ancient Greece performing four hour long tragedies, but a world where we Sing Unto the Lord a New Song.
Sure, I have a lot of decisions ahead of me, grad school, jobs… I have no idea what my new song will be, but I do know that Christ will find a way to let me know I am doing the right thing. Whether it be tears streaming down my face as I sing in front of 25 people from Grand View that didn’t even know my name before the trip and 50 people who don’t even have a clue what words I’m even saying, or some small little sign that will keep me guided, Music and Christ will never fail to keep me going.
I am going to read you the translation of the piece Kantorei sang, Cantate Domino.
O Sing to the Lord a new song,
sing and give praise to his name,
for he has done marvelous deeds.
Sing and exult and praise Him
with harp and the sound of psalms,
for he has done marvelous deeds.
Sound familiar?
So I ask you, what are your old songs, your times that you have experienced God so powerfully that it felt as if He hit you like a ton of bricks? Perhaps, for you guys, it was Junction City, Oregon. I know I felt something more with us that night. Where are the places that Christ sings when you have no words? What are your new songs God is leading you to? The times that haven’t happened yet? Where can you seek God so in turn he may seek you and teach you your new song? I pray that you may hear the songs of the past and hear your own song that Christ is teaching you. Amen.
Hi there, if you hadn’t looked down at your bulletin because you were so transfixed by the beautiful song you just heard, I am Keyla Spahr, a senior here at Grand View, double majoring in Theatre Arts and Music. When Dr. Jones asked me this summer to give a sermon in the fall, I was terrified. I was terrified when I read the bulletin last week saying I was preaching today. I was terrified yesterday. In theatre, I am someone else, I can perform the most extreme things, while in here, I’m just Keyla. You see me, not the role I have been taught to play. So I stand before you vulnerable, hoping God speaks to you through my words here today. So here it goes.
The scripture you just heard from Psalm 96 is one I relate to on a very deep level. In May of my sophomore year here, I was fortunate enough to get the opportunity to travel to Italy and Greece for a May term study abroad trip. While in Greece, our group traveled to many places, like the Acropolis, Naufpleon, the original capitol of Greece, and my favorite of the entire trip, and one of my favorite things I have seen in my lifetime so far, Theatre Epidaurus. This is the most intact theatre in the entire ancient world. I had the exciting chance to be able to perform a monologue and a song in this theatre. The second I stood on the stone piece center stage, I sang my first note, the entire place quieted, and I felt the note hit me. Like punch me right in the face. The acoustics were the best I have ever experienced. I kept singing, as tears rolled down my face, teachers and peers on the trip watching me on my right all the way up at the top of the stone seats, not knowing what was happening to me. On my left were people from a different tour group who barely spoke English. I felt each person breathing with me, seeing what I was seeing, feeling the warm Grecian wind on my back as I sang stronger and stronger. As I reached my final note I held onto it, trying so hard to not forget the moment that I had just had with God. Luckily, when I let go, the memory was still there.
Have you ever had one of those moments, where in everything, God breaks down any wall you could have possibly put up between yourself and Him? He brought me from a world I had always known into a world I had never experienced outside of a textbook. God was in the ancient world of Greece and of the Scriptures just as he is in our present and our future.
Music and Christ has always been that thing I can turn to when the world turns it’s back on me. Truthfully, it’s Christ alone that can heal me in my most awful times when even the songs seem to have no words. Christ has never abandoned. Just as Joseph and Moses were carried in their times of need, God has carried me, given me this wonderful gift to make music and to share music with others. God has brought us into a world that is much different than music and theatre in Ancient Greece performing four hour long tragedies, but a world where we Sing Unto the Lord a New Song.
Sure, I have a lot of decisions ahead of me, grad school, jobs… I have no idea what my new song will be, but I do know that Christ will find a way to let me know I am doing the right thing. Whether it be tears streaming down my face as I sing in front of 25 people from Grand View that didn’t even know my name before the trip and 50 people who don’t even have a clue what words I’m even saying, or some small little sign that will keep me guided, Music and Christ will never fail to keep me going.
I am going to read you the translation of the piece Kantorei sang, Cantate Domino.
O Sing to the Lord a new song,
sing and give praise to his name,
for he has done marvelous deeds.
Sing and exult and praise Him
with harp and the sound of psalms,
for he has done marvelous deeds.
Sound familiar?
So I ask you, what are your old songs, your times that you have experienced God so powerfully that it felt as if He hit you like a ton of bricks? Perhaps, for you guys, it was Junction City, Oregon. I know I felt something more with us that night. Where are the places that Christ sings when you have no words? What are your new songs God is leading you to? The times that haven’t happened yet? Where can you seek God so in turn he may seek you and teach you your new song? I pray that you may hear the songs of the past and hear your own song that Christ is teaching you. Amen.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Confidence in the Garbage Collector
This sermon was preached by Pastor Paul Owens at Grand View University's weekly chapel service on October 4, 2011. It is based on Philippians 3:4b-14. Pastor Owens serves in ministry with the members of St. Paul Lutheran Church in New Braunfels, Texas (http://www.splchurch.org).
Prayer: Gracious and almighty father, thank you for Christ, the one worthy of our confidence, and for Paul’s witness to him. Repent each of us from confidence in the garbage heap of our will…it gets really stinky after all. Please grant unto us faith in Christ – in his death and resurrection – so that we may leave behind our garbage and press on to take hold of that for which he has taken hold of us; in Jesus’ name I ask this. Amen.
Each night when I go to my knees and pray with my family for our two sons off at college, I ask the Lord to give them and their friends humility and confidence for their calling. What is confidence? Perhaps not what you think. Literally, the word means “with faith.” So…where do you put your faith?...Who is the trustworthy one…?
Saul, later and better known as Paul, tells us he has more reason than anyone to put confidence in himself, in his will. “If someone else thinks they have reasons to put confidence in the flesh, I have more.” Then he proceeds to lay out a most impressive resume:
Prayer: Gracious and almighty father, thank you for Christ, the one worthy of our confidence, and for Paul’s witness to him. Repent each of us from confidence in the garbage heap of our will…it gets really stinky after all. Please grant unto us faith in Christ – in his death and resurrection – so that we may leave behind our garbage and press on to take hold of that for which he has taken hold of us; in Jesus’ name I ask this. Amen.
Each night when I go to my knees and pray with my family for our two sons off at college, I ask the Lord to give them and their friends humility and confidence for their calling. What is confidence? Perhaps not what you think. Literally, the word means “with faith.” So…where do you put your faith?...Who is the trustworthy one…?
Saul, later and better known as Paul, tells us he has more reason than anyone to put confidence in himself, in his will. “If someone else thinks they have reasons to put confidence in the flesh, I have more.” Then he proceeds to lay out a most impressive resume:
- Clean cut boy, circumcised on the 8th day, the RIGHT day, the politically correct day according to Jewish law.
- And not just an Israelite, one of the chosen, but from the best family among the tribes of Israel: the Benjamins. Joseph’s little brother, his father’s right-hand man.
- Best confirmation student…Top of his class in Hebrew school and in law school…on the dean’s list every semester.
- Zealous, type “A” leader...kept all 10 commandments and then some.
- As far as rightness, goodness gained according to the law, he was in a word: faultless.
Yep, all the reason in the world to put confidence in himself. But Saul, later and better known as Paul, has been down that road…he’s climbed that ladder…Yertle the Turtle he has made it to the top…and been knocked off by none other than Jesus himself. So he confesses: “whatever were gains to me I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider all my accomplishments, my righteousness as garbage.”
Here’s what garbage looks like: The gracious maintenance/housekeeping crew agreed to help me preach to you this morning: have a familiar Grand View worker bring out a familiar garbage sack…in volume. What’s in here???)
Paul, the faultless one, the one who has more reason than anyone to put confidence, to put faith in himself, confesses that any and all righteousness of his own, that his own self-improvement projects and spiritual practices, are all garbage. Perhaps you are familiar with one of Al Franken’s old character on Saturday Night Live, “Stuart Smalley” and his “Daily Affirmations”…Stuart would look at the man in the mirror and say: “because I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and doggone it, people like me.”
Paul is not saying that! In fact, this is the best, smartest teacher and keeper of law, confessing: “I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord... I consider them garbage, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God on the basis of faith.”
So what does Jesus do about this?...to free Paul and you and me from the pride that gets us to carry around so much garbage…so much of ourselves and our goodness? Well, he goes and gets himself crucified. Where? Golgotha… Golgotha was the garbage heap outside of the city…today we call them landfills…but then there was no covering up the garbage. There, heaped up high is all of Paul’s righteousness, all of mine, all of yours. All of your attempts to say and to prove “I’m a good person, dog gone it, and isn’t that what matters”…all your efforts to defend your own righteousness… to be a “Home Depot Christian” who says “I can do it, God can help.”…the whole smelly mess is there.
And Jesus, the Garbage Collector, comes along and takes it all…not into his truck, but into himself. When the garbage gets picked up at our house, it never gets touched. The truck comes along with a mechanical arm, in a flash picks up the whole bin, dumps it into the hopper, replaces the empty bin…and drives away. Not so sanitary and safe for Christ. In fact, to dispose of your righteousness, your pride, Jesus has to put his hands all over it, all over you. He rolls up his sleeves and takes you, all your garbage into himself, becomes it, and dies from it…goes to death with it in his body. And then after three days, he rises from death, walks out of the landfill of human righteousness…and gives you HIS righteousness…a free gift.
His righteousness is not a “Christian to do list”…that would only throw you back on the garbage heap of your works. His righteousness is a right relationship with the Lord in he takes hold of you in the sweetest way, the way only the true lover can…and sets you free from proud self…free to cling to him and follow him…and to tell others about him with your lips and your life.
Here’s what garbage looks like: The gracious maintenance/housekeeping crew agreed to help me preach to you this morning: have a familiar Grand View worker bring out a familiar garbage sack…in volume. What’s in here???)
Paul, the faultless one, the one who has more reason than anyone to put confidence, to put faith in himself, confesses that any and all righteousness of his own, that his own self-improvement projects and spiritual practices, are all garbage. Perhaps you are familiar with one of Al Franken’s old character on Saturday Night Live, “Stuart Smalley” and his “Daily Affirmations”…Stuart would look at the man in the mirror and say: “because I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and doggone it, people like me.”
Paul is not saying that! In fact, this is the best, smartest teacher and keeper of law, confessing: “I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord... I consider them garbage, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God on the basis of faith.”
So what does Jesus do about this?...to free Paul and you and me from the pride that gets us to carry around so much garbage…so much of ourselves and our goodness? Well, he goes and gets himself crucified. Where? Golgotha… Golgotha was the garbage heap outside of the city…today we call them landfills…but then there was no covering up the garbage. There, heaped up high is all of Paul’s righteousness, all of mine, all of yours. All of your attempts to say and to prove “I’m a good person, dog gone it, and isn’t that what matters”…all your efforts to defend your own righteousness… to be a “Home Depot Christian” who says “I can do it, God can help.”…the whole smelly mess is there.
And Jesus, the Garbage Collector, comes along and takes it all…not into his truck, but into himself. When the garbage gets picked up at our house, it never gets touched. The truck comes along with a mechanical arm, in a flash picks up the whole bin, dumps it into the hopper, replaces the empty bin…and drives away. Not so sanitary and safe for Christ. In fact, to dispose of your righteousness, your pride, Jesus has to put his hands all over it, all over you. He rolls up his sleeves and takes you, all your garbage into himself, becomes it, and dies from it…goes to death with it in his body. And then after three days, he rises from death, walks out of the landfill of human righteousness…and gives you HIS righteousness…a free gift.
His righteousness is not a “Christian to do list”…that would only throw you back on the garbage heap of your works. His righteousness is a right relationship with the Lord in he takes hold of you in the sweetest way, the way only the true lover can…and sets you free from proud self…free to cling to him and follow him…and to tell others about him with your lips and your life.
Let me be clear, this is not a condemnation of doing good works. A lifetime of good works is exactly what Christ has taken hold of you for. Paul speaks here to free you from carry around your good works and putting confidence in them and therefore in yourself. Carrying around a bag full of yourself slows you down from following Jesus…and it’s pretty hard to have my hands free to help my neighbor when I’m holding on to the garbage of my righteousness.
Our confidence is not in our flesh, not in that garbage. Our confidence is “in Christ Jesus, who though he was in his very nature God, he did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And…he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death— even death on a cross! …so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.”
Confidence…I pray for it for my children…and for you…not faith in myself nor yourself. Our faith, our confidence is in Jesus Christ alone…’cause when it is, then we can forget what lies behind and press on “in our calling…to know Christ and be like him in his suffering.” Amen.
Our confidence is not in our flesh, not in that garbage. Our confidence is “in Christ Jesus, who though he was in his very nature God, he did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And…he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death— even death on a cross! …so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.”
Confidence…I pray for it for my children…and for you…not faith in myself nor yourself. Our faith, our confidence is in Jesus Christ alone…’cause when it is, then we can forget what lies behind and press on “in our calling…to know Christ and be like him in his suffering.” Amen.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Prostitutes, Plagiarizers and the Pious:Who's in with God?
This Grand View chapel sermon was preached by Pastor Ken Sundet Jones on Sept. 27, 2011, and is based on Matthew 21:28-32.
I hate dodgeball. I suck at throwing. Nobody wants me on their team. I’m picked last. And I live in terror that the rest of life will operate on the same principles.
And it does. There is no such thing as free lunch. You do need to pull yourself up by your own bootstraps. You do get what you pay for. You do get ahead by being the best. Cleanliness is next to godliness. God does help those who help themselves (which, by the way, is not in the Bible). If you want something, you do just plain have to put in the effort. No pain. No gain. Get busy, buster.
In fact, that’s the impression that a lot of folks have about the church. Jesus really wants spiritual super-athletes. This is a place for really good people. Really. Good.
Except, if the church belongs to Jesus (and it’s the body of Christ, so it does), then we ought to hear what Jesus says about how things are supposed to function around here.
In today’s reading, he goes to town on the religious leaders who want to define the boundaries of God’s kingdom. They’re into people who toe the line, who straighten up and fly right, who are the heroes of their own stories. They can’t imagine that God might have a crush on prostitutes or that crooks and cheats might get to ride shotgun in the divine vehicle.
But in the parable, Jesus holds up the reprobate and the morally questionable is people who are actually in with God. And he rubs the religious leaders’ noses in it. They think it’s all about what you do that marks you as in. But Jesus is clear: It’s about what he does and whether you trust him to get it done.
So how do you get the same faith that gets prostitutes and tax collectors into the kingdom of God? Well, that’s the thing that Jesus is doing – back then and right here today. He comes to you with a promise. He says, “From now on, your future, your judgment and your eternal reward are in my hands. Run away from all that bookkeeping and judgment. I have a place for you. Cop a squat in my mercy seat.”
And to show how true he is to that promise, he goes and dies for you. That’s what the Lord’s Supper is about. You’re just the kind of person Jesus comes for: someone who can’t pull your life together, someone whose head is a little off, someone who a lot of times doesn’t want to trust him. And he gives himself up for that – not for religious super-athletes, super-prayers, or super-duper party-poopers who never want to have any fun.
No. He gives you a meal that’s free and for you. Today you get to swallow a chunk of forgiveness and drink swig of mercy. And you can walk away saying, “I’m as good as in already. That’s a better deal than I’ve ever gotten from the world. I’m coming back for more. So bring it on, Jesus. You had me at hello.”
So the invitation is open. Come and dine you reprobates, you sinners, you pious plagiarizers. Come and get what you have coming to you: Jesus himself, who will never turn his back on you. Amen.
I hate dodgeball. I suck at throwing. Nobody wants me on their team. I’m picked last. And I live in terror that the rest of life will operate on the same principles.
And it does. There is no such thing as free lunch. You do need to pull yourself up by your own bootstraps. You do get what you pay for. You do get ahead by being the best. Cleanliness is next to godliness. God does help those who help themselves (which, by the way, is not in the Bible). If you want something, you do just plain have to put in the effort. No pain. No gain. Get busy, buster.
In fact, that’s the impression that a lot of folks have about the church. Jesus really wants spiritual super-athletes. This is a place for really good people. Really. Good.
Except, if the church belongs to Jesus (and it’s the body of Christ, so it does), then we ought to hear what Jesus says about how things are supposed to function around here.
In today’s reading, he goes to town on the religious leaders who want to define the boundaries of God’s kingdom. They’re into people who toe the line, who straighten up and fly right, who are the heroes of their own stories. They can’t imagine that God might have a crush on prostitutes or that crooks and cheats might get to ride shotgun in the divine vehicle.
But in the parable, Jesus holds up the reprobate and the morally questionable is people who are actually in with God. And he rubs the religious leaders’ noses in it. They think it’s all about what you do that marks you as in. But Jesus is clear: It’s about what he does and whether you trust him to get it done.
So how do you get the same faith that gets prostitutes and tax collectors into the kingdom of God? Well, that’s the thing that Jesus is doing – back then and right here today. He comes to you with a promise. He says, “From now on, your future, your judgment and your eternal reward are in my hands. Run away from all that bookkeeping and judgment. I have a place for you. Cop a squat in my mercy seat.”
And to show how true he is to that promise, he goes and dies for you. That’s what the Lord’s Supper is about. You’re just the kind of person Jesus comes for: someone who can’t pull your life together, someone whose head is a little off, someone who a lot of times doesn’t want to trust him. And he gives himself up for that – not for religious super-athletes, super-prayers, or super-duper party-poopers who never want to have any fun.
No. He gives you a meal that’s free and for you. Today you get to swallow a chunk of forgiveness and drink swig of mercy. And you can walk away saying, “I’m as good as in already. That’s a better deal than I’ve ever gotten from the world. I’m coming back for more. So bring it on, Jesus. You had me at hello.”
So the invitation is open. Come and dine you reprobates, you sinners, you pious plagiarizers. Come and get what you have coming to you: Jesus himself, who will never turn his back on you. Amen.
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