For what is God setting you free?

     This Sunday is Reformation Sunday: the day we celebrate Martin Luther's choice to use his freedom in Christ for spreading the gospel of salvation by grace through faith, a heritage to which we cling with all our might.  The gospel lesson is John 8.31-36 and begins thus, "Jesus said, 'If you continue in my word you are truly my disciples; and you shall know the truth and the truth will make you free'."
     This beautiful, priceless truth of which Jesus speaks is that in him we have eternal life.  Now there are many manifestations of that eternal life here on earth, some of which include reconciliation when brokenness invades, freedom from all that binds us, meaningful community and communion with God and others, and so on.  You can fill in that blank.  I think that, for the most part, we have come to understand the salvation by grace through faith in Christ over the last 500 years.  However, I think that on this Reformation Sunday God is calling for yet another transformation. 
     We seem to have forgotten that our freedom in Christ isn't a gift given to us primarily for our own sake.  It is a wonderful gift, and I give thanks to God each day for it, but the freedom given to us in Christ is so that we can love and serve the neighbor.  The mission statement of St. John says: We confess Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior and conform our lives to his by: being a presence in the community, nurturing children in the faith, providing a place to belong, showing compassion to those in need.  As I was in discussion this week about being a 'true disciple' I was struck by something.

The primary place where our mission statement is done is outside of the four walls of our church building.

We are already in the community each and every day as we live our lives - going to school, going to work, chauffeuring our children to their activities (4-H, Boy Scouts, sports, etc), interacting with the other parent-chauffeurs.  We are already nurturing our children in the faith - when we pray every day, when we talk about God, when we open the Scriptures and read.  We are already providing a place to belong - when you invite the new person on the block for dinner, when you open your house as a safe place for the neighborhood kids to congregate.  We are already showing compassion for those in need - volunteering in the community, giving money and resources to organizations other than church.
     The transformation I think Christ is calling us to is a transformation of how we define ministry and disciple.  All of this is, of course, centered on the one who sets us free, and in the coming together in meaningful community to celebrate the Word and Sacraments.  In that celebration, in hearing the word and eating at the Lord's table, we are not only re-formed into the voice, hands, and feet of Christ, but we are also transformed into the true disciples who then go out to do ministry every day.
   Yes, we have been set free.  Yes!  Hurray!  But now the real transformation begins so that we are Christ for the world, doing ministry every day, every moment.  For what have you been transformed?  For what is God setting you free?

How is God calling us to meaningful community?

     After hearing a parable about a widow who persistently goes to the unjust judge, we hear a parable about two people praying at the temple in Luke 18.9-14.  These parables are told sequentially, and they are both about prayer...or are they?  There are two characters in this week's parable: a Pharisee and a tax collector.  To help you get the picture that Jesus' hearers would have had I want you to think of the someone you look up to as a Christian (Pharisee) and someone you most despise from the money scandals we've been having (tax collector).  For me, I think of my mom when it comes to the picture of what it means to be a disciple - she is disciplined in her study of scriptures, prayer, and her relationship with God in Christ is one of the strongest I know.  And perhaps for the scandals...Bernie Madoff.  (I am torn on this one first because there are so many names and second because I'm not sure how I feel about Christian organizations investing billions of dollars.)  Anyway, here's the kicker: Jesus says that Bernie Madoff is the one who goes home justified and my mom isn't.  WHAT??  I'm sorry Jesus, but are you sure? 
     People would have been shocked to hear Jesus tell this parable.  Now my own examples are no commentary on my mom's prayer life, because I know she doesn't pray as the Pharisee did, it was just to help us enter the shocking nature of the parable.  So, what is Jesus getting at here?
     Think of a time when you have really not wanted to go to worship on a Sunday morning.  Maybe you were tired and just wanted rest.  Maybe you had a busy Sunday and it was just one more thing.  But maybe it was something bigger.  You had just had some testing done and didn't want to talk about it.  Something had happened in your life and you were worried about what people would say or think about you.  The tax collector knew what people thought of him.  I think that is why he was "standing far off" because he didn't want to face other people.
     Now, think of the people whom you haven't seen in worship for a while.  You may look around on Sunday morning and think, "I haven't seen ________ for a few weeks," and the thought flits away.  I'm wondering how this text is calling us to get over ourselves, to get over our need for church to be nice, neat, and tidy.  All to often we do come to worship, sit in the pew, and keep all of our troubles to ourselves because we are afraid of what people will think if we admit we don't have it all together.  But it is precisely in this not having it together that God meets us and begins to transform us.
     What would it look like if a community of believers was able to be honest and open?  What if we shared our struggles, triumphs, sorrows, and joys?  God is calling us to meaningful community centered in Christ, a place where people are welcome and feel safe enough to share real life.  What if the Pharisee in the parable went far off to pray along side the tax collector?  How is God calling us to be meaningful community?

How is God persistent in your life?

     This week's gospel lesson comes from Luke 18.1-8.  It is the parable of the unjust judge and the persistent widow.  It is a very well known text about the widow who keeps coming to the judge every day until the judge finally gives her what she wants because she is pestering him so much.  The 'moral of the story' has traditionally been that we need to pray persistently, just like the widow, and when Jesus comes back he will find faith on earth (in reference to verse 8).  However, I always get suspicious when the text tells me why Jesus is doing something.
     In the very first verse the author of Luke tells us that Jesus is telling this parable, "for their need to pray and not lose heart."  While that is a very good reason, I wonder how the author knows the motives behind Jesus' parable?  I also wonder, if we take this parable as it has been traditionally interpreted, if this is the kind of God we want?  The judge finally gives the persistent widow what she wants, much like a slot machine; you put enough coins in, you get some coins out.  Is that really the way God works?  We hear stories of people's persistence, much like the persistence of the miners in Chile, and when everything comes out fine we say it was because of their persistent prayer.  But when we pray persistently and things don't work out the way we think they should...  While I acknowledge the need to pray and not lose heart, I think we miss out on the richness of the parable if we stop there.
     What if we were to reverse the roles?  What if God is represented by the persistent widow and we are the unjust judge?  God comes to us in the one who is marginalized and presses persistently, asking us to do justice - for God's sake, not ours.  Do we not often have hard hearts and turn from justice?  Do we not often grudgingly do what is right?  And yet God never gives up.  It is a mutual relationship, one in which both we and God play a role.  We pray persistently.  We ask for faith, give praise, confess our sins, and God comes to us, gently yet persistently giving life, sustaining, blessing.  If God is the persistent widow, I wonder: How has God been persistent with me?  With you?

How is God making me well?

Sunday's text continues where we left off in Luke - Luke 17.11-19.  It is the story of the healing of 10 people with leprosy.  As I was thinking about this text this morning in the shower I had an epiphany of sorts.  (Interestingly a lot of my epiphany's happen in the shower.  I suspect it has something to do with the water flowing over my head and its link to baptism.)

So the text starts and Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem, passing through another town.  In this town there happens to be a group of lepers crying out, "Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!"  They encounter Jesus who first speaks to them, heals them, and then, after the one returned to give thanks, sent him on his way.

The epiphany went something like this: Isn't that what we do every Sunday in worship?!?!

We come to worship and begin with our kyrie, crying out to God in a loud voice, "Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!"  We then encounter Christ in the hearing of the Word - in scripture and sermon, and then again at the table where we partake of Christ's body and blood.  It is in these encounters that Christ heals us.

And this is where it gets a little murky for me.  Christ healed all 10 lepers, but only the one returned to give thanks to him.  What makes the one who returned different?  Do Christ's words, "get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well," imply that being healed and being made well are two different things?  And how does the man's faith play a role in his returning and giving thanks?

All of these questions about faith and healing have me wondering: How is God making me well?