Sermon - Next step - Discipleship (Lent 4B)

 Lent 4B – March 14, 2021                                                  Panzer Liturgical Service

Number 21:4-9 & John 3:14-21

When was the last time you heard a good sermon from Numbers? Any sermon at all? OK, not today either, but it is important to hear a little something because Jesus prefaces this section of his conversation with Nicodemus.

Last week we talked about the 10 Commandments – about how we mistakenly read it for a moral code rather than a relationship code. And while the Israelites profess their understanding, it doesn’t take long to realize they just didn’t get it. Keep reading thru the Pentateuch and it becomes abundantly clear… those chosen children of Israel were complainers. Can you imagine the conversations floating around the camp? “Moses has been gone too long. These commandments are not specific enough. Eating this manna every day is so boring… did God lose his password to Pinterest? Blah, blah, blah…” And so, as we read this story in Numbers, it becomes clear - they needed an attitude readjustment.

Now I’m not a big believer in God making bad things happen to people to teach important lessons. Enough bad things occur on any given day to more than making the point that we are not always in control of our lives. And yes, we want God to be a comforting presence when we are going through bad things. But God is also a convicting presence, helping us to see the need to change our points of view. Here, the people believed God sent the snakes to punish them, and like all of us afraid of snakes and punishment, we want to know how to make it stop.

The good news: the people recognize their sin. The bad news: their solution – taking the snakes away – was not God’s solution. Instead, God told Moses to make a bronze snake and put it on a staff (tall stick). And if they got bit by a snake, they were to look at that snake on the staff and be healed. Their freedom from the snakes was being healed from their bites, not in destroying the snakes. Same result – different journey.[i]

Most of us don’t remember this story from Numbers, but the Jews of Jesus’ day would have. Telling this story sets up a foundation for Jesus to build on. Think about the action of looking at the bronze snake. For those who had been bitten, it meant looking up from their pain and fear to a symbol that represented the healing and wholeness of God. When Jesus says, “the Son of Man must be lifted up,” he is foretelling a time when he will not be standing in front of them but lifted up to a different place than they could ever imagine him, giving healing we will never understand.

In John’s gospel, Nicodemus comes to Jesus in the dark of night to find out more about the man everyone was talking about. Nicodemus slips in from the shadows to engage Jesus in conversation. “You talk about new life, Jesus… what must I do to have it?” Give me the equation, the formula, the step-by-step process for achieving what seems impossible.

Jesus’ response is not formulaic, but relational. Life in Christ is not painting by numbers or like putting together a cabinet from IKEA with premeasured boards and a little bag of nuts, bolts, and Allen wrenches. Instead, Jesus is the bridge between the two sides of life: Spirit and world, darkness and light, life and death, truth and wickedness, belief and unbelief.[ii] To have new life, he says, come into the light.

From the very first story, we see humanity struggling with questions of life. Adam and Eve ate the fruit in the garden because they thought that wisdom had more power than relationship with God. Moses and his merry crew wandered through the wilderness for 40 years because they couldn’t – no, wouldn’t – participate fully in the relationship that God offered them, trusting in their desires and wisdom more than the promises of God.

The cross of Jesus Christ changes everything about the way God relates to us. Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection are not just a model of sacrifice but are also about re-tuning our lives to God’s frequency, forcing us to experience God in a new way. These stories ask us to trust God’s promises and believe in the life God calls us to live, often by faith alone.

We hear the families words: "For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life,” and we can be lured into thinking that belief is the key that unlocks the door to faith… that there are theological requirements and caveats that define what it means to be in or out of the Kingdom.[iii]

But what if that’s not right? What if citizenship in the Kingdom is not an intellectual process at all, but instead is defined by living a particular, often peculiar, kind of life? We read John 3:16 and we hear past tense… for God so loved the world. But the reality is that God’s time is equally past, present, and future, always the same. Yes, Jesus did come into the world in our past, but he is also coming into the world today and in the future, through his people, the Church. We profess something like this in the Eucharistic prayer each week as we profess the mystery of faith: Christ has died – Christ is risen – Christ will come again.

Dallas Willard wrote some amazing things about discipleship. He was a scholar of Christian discipleship and he practiced what he preached. In his book, The Great Omission (which is a play on words for the great commission), he reminds us that at his ascension, Jesus said, “Go and make disciples,” not “Go and make believers.” Our great omission is not seeing the difference between the two.

Dr. Willard said this: “There is absolutely nothing in what Jesus or his early followers taught that suggests that you can decide to enjoy forgiveness at Jesus’ expense and have nothing more to do with him.” (The Great Omission, pg 13). We lessen the value of our faith journeys if we make belief the pivot point on which everything else is balanced. A faith journey is just that – a journey – with many stops and starts along the way.

Like me, your lives have taken a circuitous route. There have been faith highs and lows all along the way… with many starts and stops, and even some detours. I was looking at pictures the other day – one of me as a newly baptized infant, 3 months old – I don’t even recognize my face in that photo – and photos of my wedding – 26 years ago this week. While I may look close to the same, I am a very different person on the inside.  

Since then, I have been to so many places, seen so many faces, had so many opportunities to love and serve God. Some of them I have taken… some of them I have not. Even so, with the help of my fellow disciples, I keep pressing toward the light and away from the darkness. I keep preaching and teaching and being a friend because those are the gifts that God gave me to grow my faith and encourage others in theirs.

This journey of life and faith has brought me so far. It has brought you far, too, maybe further than you think. And I think that’s what Jesus wants. One of the reasons that I think Shawn and I have made it to 26 mostly happy years is our willingness to grow and change, sometimes kicking and screaming, both individually and as a family. And while I must admit that constantly moving and making new friends are part of the equation, I wonder if successfully intenerating through military and ministerial life isn’t more a byproduct of, rather than a reason for living a disciple’s life.

The wedding vows we all know so well ask something particular and peculiar from us. They do not ask, “Do you love each other?” They ask, “Will you love each other?... to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish…” We make those promises not knowing what’s going to come next. And they are hard, so hard that some days we wonder why we ever thought this was a good idea.

But if you keep working at it together, you grow past the difficult times and into a new life, with new habits and new dreams and visions together. And you keep repeating the process because no week or month or day of marriage or life is perfect. And because of that promise, you keep pressing on, even though some days it seems for every bit of progress you make, you slip back a little, too.

During the Lenten season, we have explored our multi-dimensional relationship with God. There are obligations and blessings: repentance, and renewal, sacrifice and salvation, discipleship and deliverance. This week we see it all in the context of God’s never-ending love for us in Jesus Christ. And while it seems that our progress is only inching along, God put everything he had into the game.[iv] That realization is what the Lenten season is all about. Incorporating that into our journeys is called discipleship… let us live and love and work together in the Light. “For God did not bring his Son into the world to condemn the world, but so that it might be saved through him…. “

Amen and Amen.

Let us Pray:

Christ, you are Light shining forth into our world. You have been sent to us that we might know the truth of who God is and what God’s intentions are for God’s world. In you we have seen God’s love reaching out to us, embracing us, drawing us ever more closely to the heart of God. Though we fully deserve your condemnation for our rebellion, you came not to condemn us but to reach out to us, to embrace us, and to bring us toward yourself.

As we walk through the season of Lent, as we try to be honest about ourselves and all the ways we betray your love by the thoughts we have and the ways we lead our lives, enable us to keep ever before us that you tell the truth to us in love, that you speak honestly, lovingly to us.

That you come to us not to condemn us we give thanks. Amen. (Will Willimon – Pulpit Resource – March 14, 2021)

Peace, Deb

(c) Deb Luther Teagan, March 2021

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[i] Cameron B.R.Howard, Preach This Week, Commentary on Numbers 21:4-9, http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=3606

[ii] Robb McCoy and Eric Fistler, Lent 4B, Pulpit Fiction, https://www.pulpitfiction.com/notes/lent4b

[iii] Samuel Cruz, Commentary on John 3:14-21, Preach This Week, http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=3579

[iv] David Sellery, “A Game of Inches,” This Week’s Focus, Lent 4B, https://mailchi.mp/davidsellery/game-of-inches

Sermon - Bridges or Walls (Lent 3B)

3rd Sunday in Lent -- Year B -- March 7, 2021, Panzer Liturgical Chapel
Exodus 20:1-17     I Corinthians 1:18-25      John 2:13-22

Watch the news, read the paper, talk to your friends… it’s not a surprise to any of us that the world is in a particular state of disarray. Instinct tells us to build walls between ourselves and the people who are different than us… religion, political affiliation, race, even our schools of choice would have us associate only with people who are just like us.

At first glance, it seems like walls would make us safer… our worldview is affirmed and we can stay protected in cocoons of our own making. Unfortunately, our self-imposed walls tend to make us lonely and unchallenged. What if there was another choice? Of course, there is. Bridges are built to connect things, to bring us closer to places once considered unreachable, and to open up the possibilities that surround us.

The scriptures for today beg the question: Bridges or Walls? Are there more things in our lives that separate us from people than draw us to them? And where do we start if we want to tear down the walls between us and build more bridges instead?

I remember a story in Guidepost magazine about a family that retired to a friendly WV community, maybe a little too friendly. The shortest walking route to town went right through the middle of Fred Nicholas’ backyard. At all hours of the day, his family was greeted by young people riding their bikes up the driveway and through the grass as a shortcut to town. Many nights they found strangers waving at them through their kitchen window as they were sitting down for supper.

I guess you could call Fred irritated. No one ever asked – they just assumed it would be OK. And the more worn the yard became, the more irritated he got until finally one day he could take no more. He put up a sign -- “No Trespassing.” When that didn’t seem to make an impression, he began to speak to people as they passed through.

 “Please don’t walk on my grass.” All he got in return were giggles, salutes, and blank looks. And they kept on walking. “Enough is enough,” he said. “I’m going to keep these people out, one way or another.” His solution? Erect a wall. Well, it was a fence... a barbed-wire fence. And you know what? It did the trick. People learned pretty quickly that “Nicholas Pass” was no longer the best way to town.

Walls do a good job of blocking out the things that we don’t like or don’t want to know about. Walls enforce the status quo. But if we build them high enough, walls also keep us from seeing what’s on the other side. They keep us from experiencing life in new ways. And in the end, it often turns out that the walls built to protect us do more to chain us than they do to free us.

Bridges, on the other hand, connect things. Yes, they are sometimes scary… if you’ve ever been on a long bridge on a windy day, your hands stay tight on the wheel until you make it safely to the other side. But bridges open up the world in ways we never imagined. Think about all the new friends, new foods, new places, and experiences that came to you when you took advantage of a bridge.

So, what does this have to do with our lessons?

Today’s Old Testament lesson was taken from the book of Exodus. We think of the 10 commandments as an ethical code. But that was not their primary purpose. Verse 1 sets up everything that comes after: “I am the LORD your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery; you shall have no other gods before me.” As a whole, they don’t just tell us how to live. They tell us in whom we must live -- The LORD our God.

If we don’t understand that, then we use 10 Commandments as a wall… to keep ourselves in line, to judge others, to stay safe from the unknown, and easily identified as members of the “family”.

But what would happen if we use these commandments as they were intended, as a bridge between God and us, to establish common ground among people whom God created and called?

Throughout time, the Hebrew people and their descendants have been interpreting God’s law as a law of exclusion rather than a law of inclusion. Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy are filled with rules and regulations for how God’s people will behave. But Jesus was able to boil all of those laws down to two: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.” And “you shall love your neighbor as yourself” (Mark 12:30-31). This is what the commandments are about.

No wonder Jesus was so upset when he entered the temple that day. “Get out of here. Stop making my Father’s house a marketplace.” Jesus was railing against a people who were more concerned with the purity of their sacrificial doves and cattle than they were their own hearts. With this act of holy anger, Jesus says, “You cannot worship the God of money nor the God of purity and be faithful in my Kingdom.”  He wasn’t just mad about people’s bad behavior – at that moment he witnessed the Law being used as a wedge or wall between the people and God, especially the poor. 

The Hebrew Bible story is filled with evidence that God’s people don’t learn from their mistakes. Over and over, walls were built, when finally, God gave them the ultimate bridge. It became clear to God that the laws and the warnings of the prophets were not enough to convince the people to change their ways for very long. What else could he do to convince them of his love? What bridge could be strong and long and high enough to carry the people away from certain death and bring them to the God of grace and mercy?

Jesus is the answer to all of those questions, but not in the way that anyone imagined. The Messiah was supposed to bring back their former glory, not get crucified for his trouble. Paul’s letter to the Corinthians says it well: “For the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.” Only a bridge as radical as the cross could get our attention, for it is not what we expect. “For God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength.”

I think this is the hardest part of us, for Christians of almost every generation. Power is so alluring. It is so hard to remember that we are the ones called to speak truth to power, not to conform to the conventional wisdom of the day. Our real challenge as Christians is to be brave enough to stand up to the injustices of the world. We are called to put Jesus’ and his call to love God first in all the ways we live.

Only bridges allow us to go from place to place. Sometimes they are scary. Sometimes they go into unknown places, but ultimately they help us to reach out to the world, taking God’s peace, and the knowledge of our forgiveness with us. God’s best bridge, the cross of Jesus Christ, sends us out to proclaim the love of Christ to all the world.

Through the cross, we are all redeemed. Through the cross, we understand the real meaning of sacrifice. Through the cross, we hear Jesus calls us to challenge the way things have always been and build a bridge that connects us more fully to God. What was once an instrument of death became a symbol for an abundant, new life.

God’s love cannot be bound by walls, no matter how tall or thick we build them. God’s love can’t be diverted by church politics or racism or sexism or financial difficulties or discrimination of any kind. God’s love cannot be diluted by laws and regulations which serve to keep people out of the family instead of welcoming them to God’s loving, forgiving arms. When we place our trust in Jesus, that’s when we can build the bridges needed to spread God’s love – to speak God’s truth.

So, whatever happened to Fred Nicholas and his fence? Eventually, someone came and asked him why he built the fence. “What are you figuring on keeping in there -- cows or sheep?”

“Neither,” Fred answered testily. “It’s to there to keep out, trespassers.”

“Trespassers, huh? We ain’t figured anybody in the community as a trespasser before. We’ve always felt like neighbors.” And when his granddaughter wrote him about a grumpy, old man in her neighborhood who yelled at people for walking on his grass, saying “I’m glad you’re not like that, Granddad…” Needless to say, the fence came down. (Guidepost 1994)

The law is not the wall to keep people out of The Kingdom of God... it's the mirror we use to measure how well we are inviting people in. Paul wrote about this in many of his letters to the congregations of the early church. Following the law is not about checking off items as done or undone, but to help us understand the nature of our relationships with other people. If we can get into the practice of putting God and neighbor before self, or at the very least on par with the love of self, then we understand the best of what it means to be God’s children.

My father and brother were scouts. My husband was a scout. And I am fortunate to have spent almost 30 years working with scouts and other young people on religious emblems and merit and activity badges that promote the development of the self and the building of community. One of the things I love about scouting is the emphasis on service before self. Scouting absolutely teaches skills for self-growth, but it also helps young people understand their connectedness to the world around them and teaches them the skills to bring about real change, good change, necessary change, in the world. Studying everything from financial preparedness to ecology, youth are reminded that is always more to learn and always more ways to make the world a better place. 

Scouting teaches young people and their leaders that the things that draw us together are more important than the things that make us different. The older we get, the easier it is to fall back on the practice of building walls – we mistakenly think that will keep change from coming. Scouting challenges that perspective. I feel like one of the best skills that young people bring away from the scouting experience is the importance of and practice in building bridges as a life-long practice.

Robert Fulghum wrote a book, Everything I Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten. We’d all be well advised to remember these lessons - When you get to the nitty-gritty, this is what bridge-building is all about:

Share everything. Play fair. Don't hit people. Put things back where you found them. Clean up your own mess. Don't take things that aren't yours. Say you're sorry when you hurt somebody. Wash your hands before you eat. Flush.

Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you. Live a balanced life - Learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day - some. Take a nap every afternoon.

When you go out into the world, watch out for traffic, Hold hands, and stick together. Be aware of wonder. (Fulghum, Everything I Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten, 1986)

Now those are some great rules to live by. Let’s be bridgebuilders together. Amen.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sermon - Follow Me (Lent 2B)

 SECOND SUNDAY OF LENT, YEAR B    February 28, 2021

Genesis 17:1-7; 15-16; Mark 8:31-38

Follow Me

In today's Gospel, Jesus clearly issues a challenge and call to discipleship.  When he called His disciples, He said, "Come, follow me" and they obeyed.  No questions of how much they would get paid, how much time would be involved, of how they would live and where.  Today, those are the questions that we have been conditioned to ask.  We want to know about salary, vacation time, and a complete job description.  We don’t know if Jesus asked others and was turned down.  All we know is that He issued an invitation to those whose names are recorded and by His compelling presence, there was no hesitancy to obey.  They left their nets; left behind jobs, families, and homes, and traveled the land with Jesus.

The dictionary defines denial in this way: "to abstain from indulging oneself."  It feels like today's world doesn't take kindly to this idea. Every day we are bombarded with temptations to indulge ourselves from all directions. Our wants become our needs, then we lose interest once they are ours.  We make a plan to acquire the newest and the best, and a month later, when something "new and improved" comes along, we want that, too.

And even if we are willing to deny ourselves something, taking up a cross of any kind – well that’s a step that’s really hard to imagine.  Inconvenience is something to be avoided, not taken on. The season of Lent offers us a chance to make a small stab at the idea of sacrifice if we decided to give up something as a spiritual discipline. But how often are we willing to think about what our lives would look like if we took on Christ’s challenge as the pattern for life every day – for a lifetime?

We often lift up the lives of people who have done extraordinary things and think that they are the template which we will never live up to. But the best role models for faithful living didn’t set out to be the faith gold standard. They lived authentic love, one day at a time.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer and Martin Luther King, Jr. preached the sermon and wrote the letter that people needed to hear, rather than the thing that would keep them safe. Mother Theresa worked diligently in the slums of India, with the hope that she could make a difference in the lives of the children under her care. Global care ministries like Charity Water and Habitat for Humanity started because one person, then one group, and then a lot of people, wanted to offer clean water and safe housing to communities of people in need. Attributed to many people, we are offered this reminder of how to approach this formidable task of taking up our cross: “Holiness doesn’t mean doing extraordinary things… it means doing ordinary things with extraordinary love.”

The call to discipleship is a gift to each and every Christian.  What does being a disciple mean in today's world?  Again, the dictionary defines disciple in this way..."One of the companions of Christ."  The roots of the word in Latin are discipulus, meaning “pupil” and discere, meaning "to learn."  The persons invited by Jesus were those he taught daily, both by word and action.  He gave them tasks to do in His name.  He invited them to be His most intimate friends.  He warned them so they might be prepared for his death.  Suffering from frustration and dismay when the disciples just "didn't get it," Jesus never gave up on them.  In spite of all their weaknesses, and because of their strength after Jesus' death and resurrection, you and I sit here today, hearing again Christ’s story, participating in His birth, life, death, and resurrection.  Like the disciples, we are charged with the responsibility to spread the good news.

In our Hebrew Bible lesson, we see the third occasion of Abraham receiving God’s covenant. In the first encounter, Abram lost his home. In the second, he lost his security. And here in the third, he lost his name. Of course, that is not how we usually interpret this encounter. We usually focus on what he gained.

But in truly appreciating the promise, we have to also acknowledge the sacrifice in order to interpret the call of God in its fullness. Abram was called to leave the familiar and to venture out, with a promise for the near and distant future, but no concrete directions on how to make it happen. In order to accept his part of the covenant, Abraham had to put his trust – and the trust of his whole family – in God He was called to believe he had a home, a place of safety despite being surrounded by enemies.

And now he is called to take on a new identity and to live that identity with his whole life. That kind of thing doesn’t happen overnight. We can sit down and read the whole Genesis story in one afternoon. But those events took place over a long period of time. We first encounter Abram when he is 75 years old and in today’s part of the story, he is pushing 100. Abram is living proof that, while the promises of God take time to unfold, when we follow, God is faithful.[i]

As Paul writes to the Christian churches outside the influence of Jerusalem, he is also growing his own understanding of how Jesus calls us to serve. In Romans 4, he ponders on the notion that Abraham believed in God’s promises, even though he had no evidence that God would or could follow through. Time and again they were tested, but kept going forward. Eventually, God’s promises were fulfilled, and for their faithfulness, not only were Abraham and Sarah blessed, but that blessing passed on to their descendants – that would be us.

For Paul, faith is what leads to life, even amid death, as shown in verse 17. This kind of trust is not easy or straightforward. For Abraham, the paragon of faithfulness, faith was a struggle—it required a “hope against hope.” While doubt might be the enemy of hope in our everyday lives, faith remains the anchor which holds us fast to the promises of God. Faith and hope together give us the strength to get through the things we think we cannot survive. Our trust in God and the unfailing love of Christ are sometimes all we have.

In addition, the act of taking up our crosses and following Jesus cannot be done by our own merit or strength. We are called to live out our faith with trust, obedience, sacrifice and belief in the living God – we cannot never do it alone.

Like Peter, we can get caught up in the radical nature of God’s call to service and sacrifice and want to put on the brakes, or at least ask questions. Peter’s rebuke of Jesus earns one right back. “Stop focusing on the ordinary and start paying attention to the divine,” Jesus says. Stop expecting comfort. Expect challenges that will feel like loss. Jesus sees a bigger picture and calls us to follow him into that future, unafraid.

Even in his doubt, Peter understands that Jesus is asking him – and us – to do something radical. If we take up that cross and follow him, our futures, our identities, will be forever linked to Jesus. The question is always whether or not we will embrace Jesus’ definition of his own mission – which is the only definition that matters – and how that affects the choices we make.[ii] 

The way forward is not without its doubts, roadblocks, and failures. Like the disciples, we will often abandon our mission at the most important times. Fortunately for all of us, Jesus’ story doesn’t end at the cross, but continues to the resurrection – that is Jesus’ defining moment, and our moment, too. And as we witness in the days after his death and his rising, he continues to gather a community of faith to believe, love, and serve in his name.

Where do we get the courage and the sustenance to go forward? In the sustaining experience of prayer, the power of the worship and table fellowship, in the love and acceptance of community, and our willingness to follow Him, sometimes kicking and screaming along the way. Those are the places where we can leave the darkness behind and enter into the pure light day. Yes, we pick up our crosses and follow Jesus to a dark place, but we do so, knowing that that is path to true and eternal life in him.

I close with this short poem.

Invitation to Follow
 
Abandon the illusion you're a self-contained individual.
Be a part of this wounded world,
and find yourself with Christ.
 
Set aside your own desires,
give yourself fully for others;
be the hands and heart of Jesus.
 
Renounce self-protection,
accept your brokenness,
and reach out for love.
 
Let go of your own plans.
Join in the healing of the world.
You will not be alone.
 
Follow your soul, not your ego.
Follow it right into people's suffering.
Follow it right into the heart of God.
 
Pour yourself out;
let the world pour in;
then you are one with the Beloved.

~ written by Steve Garnaas-Holmes and posted on Unfolding Light. https://www.unfoldinglight.net/  

Thanks be to God.

Peace, Deb 

(c) Deb Luther Teagan February 2021

 

Let us pray.

Jesus, as we journey with you toward your cross, your way becomes narrower and more difficult for us to follow. Most of us, when we began this journey with you, did not know that it would be so demanding. We fear that we are falling behind. We wonder if we can make it. It’s one thing for you, Son of God, to go to the cross. It’s altogether another thing for people like us to go with you.

If we are going to make it to the end of this journey, you will need to help us. Teach us, we pray. Correct us when we are wrong. Strengthen us when we are weak. Keep encouraging and re-assuring us that we, even in our many weaknesses and limitations, are up to the journey with you.

Keep walking with us, Lord, so that we can keep walking with you. Amen.[iii]

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[i] https://www.umcdiscipleship.org/worship-planning/rend-your-hearts-claiming-the-promise/second-sunday-in-lent-year-b-lectionary-planning-notes/second-sunday-in-lent-year-b-preaching-notes

[ii] https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/second-sunday-in-lent-2/commentary-on-mark-831-38-5

[iii] https://www.ministrymatters.com/all/entry/10604/february-28-2021-walking-a-way-nobody-wants-to-go

Sermon - God is in the desert, too... (Lent 1B)

FIRST SUNDAY OF LENT, YEAR B                              February 21, 2021

Genesis 9:8-17; I Peter 3:18-22; Mark 1:9-15                    Panzer Liturgical Service

The season of Lent grew out of the ancient church’s practice of holding baptisms at Easter. Before their baptisms, converts to the faith were expected to go through an intensive period of repentance, self-examination, prayer, and preparation for their new life in Christ. That period could sometimes last as long as three years, but the final forty days before Easter were always the most important. Our lessons for the First Sunday in Lent reflect those central themes of baptism and preparation for new life.

The reading from Genesis is the finale of the Flood story when God makes a covenant with Noah, his offspring, and every living creature that accompanies them off the ark. Here, God renews the covenant with the created world, showing concern not only for people but all creatures. Earlier in Genesis, God said, "Be responsible for fish in the sea and birds in the air, for every living thing that moves on the face of Earth" (1:28, The Message). I hope you heard the story this week of the great turtle rescue happening this week at Naval Air Station Corpus Christi. Sea turtles. Starting with one Marine veteran and his friends, and expanding to the Navy base and South Padre Island community, people have plucked thousands of stranded turtles from the freezing seas, housing them first in a Navy aircraft hanger, then expanding to the city’s convention center.[i]

In the passage from 1 Peter, the writer draws a parallel between the promise God made after the flood (I will never destroy the earth) with the new covenant of baptism in Christ (I will make all things new). Jesus overcame sin not by flooding it or destroying it, but by transforming it through his death and resurrection. To be baptized is to be taken up into this re-creative work in the world.[ii] In Texas, hundreds of volunteers are working not just to save and rehabilitate these endangered animals, but also to return them to their habitat as soon as possible. Implicitly or explicitly, this community understands what it means to live under the covenant of God’s promises.

We have visited the baptism of Jesus already once this year, but as a reminder, in Mark’s Gospel, Jesus’ story doesn’t begin with angelic visitors or a prophetic dream. There is no miraculous birth – no poetic hymn to the incarnate Word. No soaring prose, no travelers from the East, no expensive gifts, no awestruck shepherds, no jealous, brooding king. Instead, Mark’s Gospel hurls us, ready or not, into a lonely and barren wilderness— a desert— where everything either bites or burns or stings.

It’s hard to imagine a more dramatic moment than the baptism of Jesus. As he emerged from the water, the heavens ripped open and the Spirit descended like a dove while the voice of God proclaimed, “You are my beloved Son, in you I am well-pleased!" This, truly, would be a moment to savor— A moment to remember and celebrate. And yet, almost immediately, Jesus was driven out into the desert to be tormented by wild beasts and tempted by evil.

It’s not exactly what you would expect, is it? After all, God was pleased— no… make that WELL pleased with Jesus. But this beloved son was driven directly from a moment of affirmation and love into the harsh wilderness.

The experts say that it takes certain meteorological and climatic conditions to form a desert. Maps show that deserts cover about 25 percent of the earth’s landmass. , Globes show that they occur only between certain latitudes but that area could be expanded if climate change continues unchecked... That’s what the experts say.

But we all know that there is a different kind of desert – no longer defined by the heat or arid nature of the air. Deserts – or wilderness – can also be found amid our everyday life. No matter where we live, how far we travel, or how green the grass looks around us, we feel alone and disconnected. Despite the weather outlook, we find ourselves right in the middle of the desert: blinded, disoriented, sunburned, and just about dying of thirst. Some days, it’s a fleeting sense of disorientation, but other times, wilderness feels so familiar that we can name every shriveled plant, every venomous snake, every blistering ray, and every irritating little grain of sand. Sometimes, the wilderness starts to feel like home.[iii]

Some of the harshest deserts aren’t marked on any map but lie just around the corner. Each of us has experienced the desert at some time, maybe right now. Think of mothers and fathers caring for children alone, not because there are divorced or abandoned, but because their spouse is deployed away from home for an extended period of time. Think of people battling physical and emotional illness, unsure of what the future looks like, at some level, afraid.

Or people facing death – their own or the loss of someone they love – many of us have experienced the desert of knowing that things will never be the same again. Think of people who are the outcasts of society – the poor, those in prison, those whose lives are considered less worthy by those around them.

Think of our experiences of COVID-19. Some have been sickened. Our days and months are rearranged. Many of us have not seen our families in a year or more. If the last year has taught us nothing else, it’s that physically comfortable lives can feel like the desert where we can still feel alone, afraid, and unsure about what the future holds.

There are deserts – wilderness – everywhere, and our first instinct is to avoid them at all costs. But there is another truth about deserts… something Mark wants us to hear. Jesus has been there first. That is the good news of the opening scene for Mark. There is no desert on earth so remote, or so barren, or so lifeless that Jesus hasn’t walked there first.

And his presence there reminds us that despite all indications to the contrary, the desert is filled with life. It may be life as we have never seen it before, but it is life. A handful of dirt can be filled with hundreds of seeds just waiting to burst into life. The roots of the withered plant go very deep, and take in whatever nourishment they can, to sustain their leaves and flowers. The empty landscape, barren and lifeless in the daylight is suddenly teeming with life at night, as all sorts of animals and insects emerge from hiding. Even darkness is not totally without light. The smallest particles of the universe, atoms, and neutrinos are in constant motion around us, giving off infinitesimal flashes of light.[iv] At its most desolate, the desert is ready to burst into bloom at the first sign of life-giving water.

Throughout the biblical story, God uses the desert as a place of transformation. It is a place of calling, where God’s plans become solidified and made clear. Think of Moses. Think of Elijah. Think of Jesus, emerging from the waters of baptism, only to be driven (compelled) into the desert. And if we look with 20/20 hindsight, we can see how our time in the wilderness can bring us closer to God.

Author and church historian, Karen Armstrong writes of her struggle with epilepsy and how it impacted her relationship with God. After years of asking, “Why did this happen to me?” she finally understood that God called her, and each of us, to a different path. She writes, “The great stories of history show that when you follow someone else’s path, you go astray.” Ultimately, it is in the wilderness that we fight our own monsters and experience what is missing in our lives. Once transfigured, we can bring something of value to the world we left behind.[v]

It is not coincidental that Jesus goes into the wilderness, or that it is the Spirit who leads him there. Though he does not need to be confronted with his own sin, he is still led to discover who he is, and is tempted by the things that are not part of God’s call. In Matthew and Luke’s retelling of this story, there are more details, three tests which Jesus encounters before he can be restored to the community. But here in Mark, this scene only takes up two verses. And when Jesus comes home, his work begins.

In the wilderness, we become more aware of our dependence on God. In the wilderness, we learn to trust God’s way of being. In the wilderness, we are connected to what God is doing in the world. In the wilderness, when all else is taken away, we learn the true value of things and the ultimate value of love. [vi] Ultimately, it is our own pain that gives us perspective and the empathy to give others hope that there is hope on the other side.

Jesus leaves the desert to proclaim the gospel – that is, "good news," a term used in secular Greek for the public proclamation of a major event. The news is good because God’s "reign" is at hand, a kingly God who protects an endangered people, who has special concern for the vulnerable, and who judges against violence and injustice. As we continue to experience Lent through Mark’s eyes, remember that Mark’s terse and succinct prose does not give us a lot of details on what God’s reign involves. He only bids us follow Jesus. By hearing Jesus’ word and following his example, we can understand more deeply the mystery of God’s sovereignty.[vii]

The beginning of this journey through the Gospel and this season of Lent calls for metanoia—repentance or a second look at life—and belief – pisteuó, an act of trust in the God who guides the unfolding journey. As we experience these forty days of Lent, let us gather the courage to make this a journey of honest reflection.

Episcopal priest Barbara Brown Taylor left parish ministry after 15 years to teach seminarians. She ended up living with her husband on a farm in rural Georgia, struggling with doubts and darkness – it felt like the wilderness to her. In her memoir, Learning to Walk in the Dark, she remembers that in the biblical story, some of the most important encounters with God happen in the dark or the wilderness. And when she feels that the darkness is about to consume her, she writes:

There is only one cure for me on nights like this. If I can summon the energy to put on my bathrobe and go outside, the night sky will heal me – not by reassuring me that I am just fine, but by reminding me of my place in the universe. Looking up at the same stars that human beings have been looking at for millennia, I find my place near the end of a long, long line of stargazers who stood there before me… [viii]

We don’t know where our desert journeys will lead us - at any time we can find ourselves wrestling with demons and tempted by evil. Some people might look at that journey with despair. But deep inside, we know the truth about deserts. Our hope in Christ reminds us that God is always near, found in rainbows and promises kept, even though our lives look different than we expected. This is the good news – God is faithful. This is the promise that we must remember – in joy and in darkness. Peter’s letter reminds us that through our baptisms, we are called to be a part of the redemptive work of the world. No experience is wasted. Even when we find ourselves on a desert or wilderness journey, we are called to remember, like Jesus, we are not alone.

Thanks be to God.

Let us pray:

God of revelation,
unveil your Kingdom in our midst.
Show us who we truly are in you:
expose the illusions that distort our vision,
deliver us from temptations that contort our living,
open our eyes in this time of trial –
that resistance may be the secret of our joy
and our joy a sign of your shalom. Amen.

~ posted on the Monthly Prayers page of the Christian Aid website. http://www.christianaid.org.uk/

Peace in Christ, Deb

(c) Deb Luther Teagan February 2021

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[i] Alex Horton, Hundreds of helpless cold-stunned sea turtles rescued by Navy pilots and pickup trucks, February 19, 2021 https://www.washingtonpost.com/national-security/2021/02/18/sea-turtles-texas-navy/

[ii] Nancarrow, Paul, “Process & Faith lectionay Commentary, March 5, 2006”, http://www.ctr4process.org/pandf/lectionary/Year%20B/Lent%201%20March%205%202006.htm

[iii] McGurgan, Susan Fleming, “Sermon for the First Sunday in Lent, 2006,” http://www.mtsm.org/preaching/homilies.htm

[iv] Richard Rohr, The Universal Christ, p. 18.

[v] Armstrong, Karen, The Spiral Staircase, 2004, p 268.

[vi] Bouman, Luke, “Sermon of Mark 1:9-15,” http://www.predigten.uni-goettingen.de/archiv-8/060305-6-e.html

[vii] Donahue, John R. “A Journey Begins,” March 12, 2000, http://www.americamagazine.org/SundayScripture.cfm?articletypeid=40&textID=580&issueID=278

[viii] Taylor, Barbara Brown, Learning to Walk in the Dark, 2014, pg 64.

Sermon - To Live a Holy Lent (Ash Wednesday B)

 Ash Wednesday - Year B                                                              February 17, 2021

Joel 2:1-2, 12-17a, Psalm 51, Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21        Panzer Liturgical Service

A man went to a Friday afternoon baseball game. While there, he did what most people do when attending a baseball game… he had a hotdog. About halfway through his delicious Ballpark frank, he had a startling revelation. It was Friday. It was Lent. And he was eating a hotdog. So he spent the next 1 ½ innings (or 30 minutes) trying to decide if his sin was in eating the hotdog or in forgetting that it was Friday. In the end, he decided to avoid the problem altogether and never attend another baseball game on a Friday. I think he missed the point.

The observance of a Christian calendar began as the year was divided by bishops and congregations to help us reflect on the things that can help us live a more holy life. Easter Sunday is the most important day of our year, the grandest and the best celebration that the church has to offer, and each Sunday during the year is celebrated as a "little Easter." The fifty days after Easter takes the church on a journey to the day of Pentecost when the Holy Spirit filled the lives of those who were gathered and waiting, as Christ had commanded, recorded in the book of Acts.

But with the emergence of the Easter Season and Pentecost as a time of high celebration, people also saw the need for a time of preparation and discipline. In order to focus on piety and repentance, the season of Lent was born. It was a time when people who wished to be baptized or join the church were trained and brought into Christian fellowship. It was also a time to examine and reflect on one's relationship with God, with oneself, and with the church and community.

Some of the practices of the early church have stood through time. Early Christians fasted for forty or more days before Easter, usually not including Saturdays and Sundays. They were encouraged to spend the time that they would have normally been eating in prayer and to increase their support of ministries that helped the poor.

The practices that we now associate with Lent, such as fasting, eating fish on Friday, or "giving up"  things we are love are not just about sacrifice. When we create a void in our schedule or our menus, it offers us more time to reflect on our relationship with God and Christ. Through these small practices, we may come to know a little bit of the suffering that Christ endured for our sakes in his crucifixion and death.

Lent is also a time to reflect on the fragileness and frailty of human life, and on how our relationship with God is not what we or God want it to be. In the early church, a feeling of true, sometimes even anguished, penitence led people to periods of severe fasting, to wear clothing made from sackcloth (a material similar to burlap) or shirts made of horsehair, both very itchy garments, or to place ashes on their faces or bodies to signify a penitent spirit. Psalm 51, today’s responsive reading, reflects the desire to say to God, "I am sorry for all I have done and thought and said that does not honor you. I know it is because of your love for me that you forgive me, not because I deserve it."

The first time I received Ash Wednesday ashes I was in seminary. As I left school, I walked across the Duke campus to the parking lot, and I noticed that people kept brushing their foreheads as they passed by. Finally, a sweet Duke co-ed flagged me down, “Ma’am, I’m sorry to bother you, but you have a smudge of something on your face… would you like to borrow a tissue to brush it off? “No, thanks,” I replied, “it’s there on purpose – it’s Ash Wednesday – the start of Lent.” Her blank smile told me all I needed to know. There, in the bowels of a United Methodist college campus, she had no idea what I was talking about. So I countered, “That’s ok, I’ll take care of it when I get home.”

On a normal Ash Wednesday, we would participate together in the ritual of confessing our sinfulness in a way that is outwardly visible. Receiving the ashes is a tangible way of saying "I know that I am a sinner and that my life is a mere second in God's time. I’m sorry. Have mercy on me." By itself, that statement seems cold and fearful. Our joy comes from knowing that this is not the end of the story.

But what happens, when by a significant majority, religious bodies and leaders say that the act of giving and receiving the ashes put us at greater risk of spreading a contagious disease. Some pastors I know are sprinkling ashes in people's hair – some are using a really long q-tip – some people are packing up ashes to people to take home and apply themselves. And many, many people are not gathering to worship together at all. Is any one method better than another? Does it make the action of our own repentance any less valid? I say NO.

The reading from  Matthew talks about practicing our piety in secret. We may or may not see the ashes on people’s foreheads or hands, but God sees all of the stuff in our hearts. God knows when we are giving it our best shot, and God also knows when we are playing to the crowd. The season of Lent is designed to help us reflect our own mortality and sinfulness, and also in how the love of God redeems us from taking ourselves too seriously. We love one another because God first loved us. We repent of our sin, not just today but regularly, in response to the great sacrifice that God made for us. And in the process, we welcome the new life that we have been given, and we live it out in the world in whatever ways we can.

When you come up tonight, instead of a smudge of ashes on your forehead, you will receive a card with a blessing. There is a cross, reminiscent of the cross that you may have received on your forehead or hand in years before. On the card, there is also this blessing, May God who has called you forth from the dust of the earth, and claimed you as a child of the light, strengthen you on your journey into life renewed. I encourage you to stick it in the pages of your bible, tape it to your bathroom mirror, or place it where you can be reminded of the great and gracious love that God has for you and all of us. And if you really feel the need for physical ashes, when you go home, light a candle, blow it out, and use some of the soot from the wick to mark your forehead or the back of your hand. There’s nothing magical about the ashes themselves… it’s all about the process of remembering who we are and where we are going.

In the shadow of this Ash Wednesday and these next 40 days of Lent, we are blessed, because know that Easter day will come. In six weeks, we will experience anew the life-changing resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ. The seasons of Lent and Easter seem very different. But it is because we celebrate them together that we are able to keep our lives balanced.

Only when we hold together the knowledge of our own sinfulness AND the joy that is resurrection on Easter morning, can we have full knowledge of who God is in our lives. We must hold those two things in equal tension with each other, for until we do that, we cannot honestly reflect on our lives; past, present, and future. We are lucky because we know how Lent will end, not just with Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, but with Easter sunrise and joy. We know that after death, there is life, life eternal, and because of that special, holy day, this Lenten journey is filled with both joy and hope.

Tonight's gospel lesson from Matthew reminds us that we can not get too swayed in either direction, that there is a balance between being too pious and not paying enough attention to what God requires of us in our Christian walk. Whatever disciplines we follow for Lent, and for all the other seasons of the Christian year, we have to practice them for the right reasons. We pray and fast and give to others in service to God, because these are some of the ways we can acknowledge God's love for us, especially considering Christ's sacrifice for our sake.

None of us is immune to the temptations that separate from God, such as the unwise use of power and money, or things that keep our focus away from God's purposes, so we must keep before us the call to live in such a way that we are constantly reminded that God's way is our way.

And if we fall, we pick ourselves up and prepare for God to love us even more. We can’t give up, neither can we abandon truth and life in Christ's name. For whatever we do, however we live, we do it before God. Being aware of and accepting God's constant presence in our lives will produce in us the ability to continue on the journey to live and to love in God's name. That is the promise of the gospel of Jesus Christ. It is our joy. It is our hope. Thanks be to God.

Amen

(C) Deb Luther Teagan 2021

Sermon - The Day it Got Read (Transfiguration B)

 Transfiguration Sunday – Year B                Feb 14, 2021

Mark 9:2-9                        Panzer Liturgical Service

On this last Sunday before Ash Wednesday and the season of Lent begins, we see the disciples at a moment of transition. Before, each of the disciples dropped whatever they were doing to follow this compelling man, beginning a journey that would end up changing the world. Along the way they have seen miracles - Jesus feeding thousands with meager rations, Jesus walking on water, Jesus healing people of lifelong illnesses, even bringing a woman back from death. They have heard Jesus teach, calling the faith of the religious teachers into question. Ultimately, they learn that Jesus calls people to live lives of faith, not just follow the rules that some believe would get them into heaven.

But here, just before today’s scene, Jesus made a turning point first. In Mark 8, he speaks of his impending death. This is concerning to the disciples and Peter tries to rebuke Jesus, not understanding how or why this prediction could come true. But Jesus immediately sets Peter straight. "You do not have in mind the things of God, but the things of men (Mark 8: 33)." It is only a short time later that Jesus takes Peter, James, and John away to a high mountain away from the crowds. Here an amazing thing happened, for on that mountain they heard the voice of God and their lives were never again the same. This gave them a new understanding of who Jesus is… not Elijah, not just a prophet, but the Messiah, the Christ, the anointed one of God.

And because the experience was so momentous, Peter decides to preserve the moment by building altars, permanent places to come and worship, not just God, but their experience of God in this place. This would have been an acceptable practice for most Jews; Abraham, Moses, and Jacob each left an altar in the wilderness as a testimony of their encounters with God. But Jesus stops them in their tracks – there is no need to preserve the mountain for posterity and remembrance because Jesus is still here. He is not done with them yet.

I love photography – not so much candids or portraits, but of places and events that are significant to my story. I got through the March/April/May chapter of our current pandemic by going on a daily walk and taking pictures of how Spring was unfolding in spite of our ability to be out and about in it together. When I look at those pictures, I don’t see confinement. I see and feel the glory of God’s creation and I give thanks. 

But they will never be enough. It’s not that capturing our lives in film and talking or blogging about them is bad.  It’s a wonderful way to remember the amazing experiences we have in life. But first, we have to actually live in the moment of those experiences. As beautiful as they are, the photos and videos we take are a pale representation of what we experience. Travels, family, historic monuments… sacred or funny events… We can take all the pictures and videos we want, but they can never fully capture what life is all about. Living in the moment … soaking in all in… that’s what changes our understanding of the world, of the depth of our grief and our joy, our pain, and our love. Could it be that in our drive to preserve our lives we may actually be missing something even more monumental -- experiencing a God-given moment in time. 

Peter’s reaction is a great example of that. He sees Moses and Elijah standing with Jesus and thinks, “My life will never be the same after today. Let’s keep this moment alive forever.” It’s a moment so awe-inspiring and miraculous Peter never wants to leave, at least not without leaving a record of what happened there. Peter, of course, had no camcorder, no digital camera, no mobile phone to capture this extraordinary moment. He’s just a guy, on a mountaintop, trying to figure out how to make this memory permanent. 

In the beginning, walking with Jesus was about the promise of faith (1:16-20). Along the way, the disciples were sometimes sidetracked by misunderstandings and fear. Following Jesus was hard and required something new from them every day. And just when it looked like they might never understand, something happened that reminds them of who Jesus is and who he is calling them to be. 

Peter was absolutely awestruck. It was supposed to be a quiet retreat from the crowds, but instead, an extraordinary event unfolded. It was a moment so sacred that Peter lived up to his self-proclaimed title as Vice President in Charge of Doing Something. Building a booth or kiosk or shrine – whatever – to preserve the moment – that would totally fit the bill. Did he have a hammer and saw ready or a few fisherman's tools in his belt. We don’t know, but always remember that Peter was never one to let details get in the way of a dream. 

Before Peter could throw anything together, a cloud dimmed the moment, and out of it came a voice: “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!” (v. 7). God didn't say: “Get a shot of the three of them over by that cedar tree.” God didn't say, “Be sure to capture the moment!” or “Everybody say, ‘Cheese,” God just said, “Listen to him.” Like tourists who see Paris through their viewfinders, Peter, who wanted to keep the moment from passing, was in danger of passing the moment by. 

Mark's gospel tells us that Jesus took Peter, James, and John up to this mountain exactly six days after reminding them that “those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel will save it” (8:35). Turns out their mountaintop experience was a catalyst to help them understand that their lives would never be the same again.

Jesus’ words are aimed at us, too. Living a faithful life means asking what it looks like to lose our lives for Christ. And at the same time, we have to ask what will we lose if we forget that following Jesus is what life is all about? Do we ask ourselves enough, “What would Jesus have me do?”

God's advice is to us is the same as to Peter: “Listen.” Listen to the children, listen to life, listen for the sacred, seek the divine. Listen to Jesus. And then do as Jesus did. We see in the lesson that before the disciples could build their memorial to the moment, Jesus left. 

And down the mountain, he came upon a man. And the man had a son – a son who was sick, possessed of an evil spirit. And the disciples who were left behind had not been able to heal the boy. So, Jesus drove out the spirit, and although the crowd thought him dead, Jesus took the boy’s hand and helped him to his father’s side. And he continued to be with the people.

The glory of God's revelation in Jesus is seen in the midst of his work to bind up the brokenhearted, feed the hungry, and care for the sick. Putting the stories of the Transfiguration and the healing of this boy next to each other was no accident. The mountaintop experience and the healing down below connect Jesus' glory with the power to render broken lives whole. The awe-inspiring and the mundane life next to each other – think about the crucifixion and the resurrection – how much more of each can you get?

Jesus’ glory cannot be contained in a booth and set apart. It is instead a glory that is let loose in the world, one that seeks out people and places, one that calls for healing, wholeness, and restored relationships. As the disciples continued to follow Jesus on the way to and through Jerusalem, the cost of this glory became clear. But here in the middle of the story – in this transfiguration story – we are given a sneak peek of Jesus' identity as the Christ, and at that moment, there is hope for our own transformation, too. 

This was not the last hill Jesus climbed. The disciples followed him down, only to see him go up again, the last time carrying a cross. Every year, we are offered a period of time set apart to learn about the sacrificial death and glorious Resurrection of Jesus during the seasons of Lent and Eastertide. Through this grand story, we see the depth of God’s love for us. Jesus is the love of God personified – made flesh. He did not come only to inspire us to do good works, but also to prepare us to unite with the Father when our work here is done. 

The real question is this: What do we do with that good news, with this revelation? Do we file it away like an insurance policy, waiting until the end to collect on its benefits? Do we distill our faith down to one moment in time, which we display in a frame and remember fondly when we walk by?  Or is this good news a story we live out in our lives every day – sometimes in big ways, and sometimes in small ways – always striving to see Christ’s call in the decisions we make?

That is the challenge of the Transfiguration… to live transfigured lives, right here, right now… with and in the love of Christ. In this gospel, Jesus gives a preview of coming attractions both for the apostles and for us. It is a brief peek into the awesome power he commanded… a power that he was prepared to set aside in sacrifice for us. He, who stood clothed in brilliant light in the company of Moses and Elijah, would soon lay himself down… beaten, naked and alone… for our salvation.

In the words of the Father: Listen to him. In Jesus, we are saved. We are transfigured. Follow him to glory. God loves you no less than Moses or Elijah. He values you as a disciple no less than Peter, James, and John.  Make loving, praising, and thanking him the focal point of your day, of your life. And you will be transfigured, too. Thanks be to God!

Amen.