Encounter: Mary Magdalene

Encounter: Mary Magdalene

He is Risen

John 20:1-18

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. April 8th, 2023

Today is the most important day in the Christian year. It is the day where it all comes together. Where it all makes sense. It is the day where we move from the darkness of ignorance and sin into the light of the gospel. It is the day we remember each Sunday. The day that changes everything for us. The day that changes the world, because it is the first day of the new creation.

It was still dark when Mary Magdalene got up and went to the garden. It was still dark as she wove through the streets of the city. It was still dark as she made her way through the garden trails. It was still dark when she got to the tomb, and to her shock witnessed the stone rolled away and the cave empty.

It was still dark when she ran to Peter and the disciple who Jesus loved. It was still dark when they witnessed the empty tomb in wonder. And it was still dark when Mary wept outside the tomb. This is how Easter Sunday begins. In darkness, grief, wonder, and fear. Mary sees two angels seated in the tomb, but she does not recognize them as angels. They ask her, "Woman, why are you weeping?” She tells them they’ve taken away her Lord, and she doesn’t know where they put him. In all the pain of watching him die, must she lose the body too?

But as she turns around Jesus is standing in her midst. She doesn’t recognize him at first. Perhaps because of his resurrection body. Maybe it looked slightly different or could only be recognized in faith. Maybe because it was yet dark and, not expecting to see her Lord she couldn’t place him. For whatever reason Jesus stands in her midst and she does not recognize. He asks her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?”

And in one of the most beautiful passages in all writing she begs him in her fear and in her grief, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.”

He offers only one word in reply, “Mary!”

And she recognizes him. “Rabbouni!" Or Teacher!

Mary weeps in the darkness before the empty tomb. She alone remains. And for that hope beyond hope, that faith beyond faith, she is the first witness of the resurrection. She is also made the first to proclaim the Gospel, "Do not hold on to me,” Jesus says,  “because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, 'I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.'"

What is this good news that Jesus deputizes Mary to deliver? What is it she is called to proclaim? And, by extension, what is it that we are to deliver? What are we to proclaim?

She proclaims two things. The first is that “I have seen the Lord.” This, too, is what we proclaim. He is risen. He who has died is alive and will never die. He shares with us his life. We who die in him will be raised in him. We who trust in him know eternal life. And we may see him and know him. It all hinges on “I have seen the Lord.”

But there’s another part of what she proclaims that I really want to dig into this morning. Jesus tells her to tell the disciples, “I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.” It’s easy for us to pass over this line, especially with everything else that is going on in the account. But it is pregnant with meaning. Indeed, it contains the gospel in so many words.

At the beginning of John’s Gospel he tells us, “But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God.” That is, Jesus was born that all who would have faith in him should become children of God not by blood but by the adoption of God.

Jesus unites himself to our humanity, he takes on our flesh, that we might take on his divine life. Jesus becomes a human being that we might become the children of God.

John leaves this promise hanging throughout his gospel until we come to Mary’s proclamation. Jesus tells her to tell the disciples that he is going to “my Father and your Father, my God and your God.” That is to say, that through his resurrection we may become children of God.

What an astounding promise Christ makes to us. What an extraordinary gift is given to us through the Spirit. That God claims us has his own. And more than that, God grants us his life. That we may know that great inheritance of eternal life.

Jesus is risen that we might become his brothers and sisters. Jesus is risen that we might share in his life. This is the gospel we proclaim. This is why we celebrate. No longer in the darkness of our own sinfulness and ignorance, we experience the light of life. No longer bound in our own fears and griefs, we may be carried in hope. Let us celebrate today the awesome things God has done.

Encounter: Lazarus

Encounter: Lazarus

Jesus Gives Life

John 11:1-45

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. March 26th, 2023

I am amazed at the faith of Mary and Martha. Their dear brother, Lazarus, had fallen ill and wasn’t getting any better. These were days before hospitals and nurses. The full burden of caring for him fell on them. They washed him, they moved him, they fed him, they gave him something to drink. And they watched as he slowly went downhill and, in the end, died.

While Lazarus was ill they sent out for Jesus. These were the days before telephones or the postal service. So they had to find someone willing to travel the day or two it would take to get to Jesus and relay the message. Time was short and they hoped Jesus would rush to Bethany the first he heard. Instead, Jesus delays two whole days. And in those two days Lazarus died.

By the time Jesus makes it to Bethany Lazarus has been dead for four days. Mary and Martha are surrounded by mourners. They’re trying to put the pieces of their life back together, not knowing what the future might hold. If I were either of them, and if word was to arrive that Jesus had made it, I would be upset. How dare he show up now, when my brother was already dead. What kind of love is that? And what is his excuse? The man could heal with a word. We know the story of the Centurion’s servant, I assume Mary and Martha must have heard similar. Or seen similar. When Jesus went to heal the man’s servant, he sent someone else to stop Jesus. “Only say the word and my servant will be healed.” And over distance the deed was done. What kept Jesus from doing the same for Lazarus?

But that is me. Perhaps you might have felt the same way. But that is not Mary and that is not Martha. Instead when they hear Jesus has arrived Martha rushes out to meet him. “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” She says. “But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him.” What amazing faith. She acknowledges that Jesus could have healed her brother, but she shows no bitterness toward him. Instead, she expresses her trust in him. Though her brother is dead, yet Jesus may yet still work some miracle. Though she is in the darkness of grief, yet the light of Christ may still somehow shine.

Jesus replies, “your brother will rise again.” Martha, the pious one agrees, “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.”

But no. That is not what Jesus means. He does not refer to the resurrection on the last day. He refers to resurrection in the here and now. Resurrection that comes through the person of Jesus Christ. “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?"

What an astounding claim. Jesus does not say he can raise the dead. He goes even farther. He says he is resurrection. He does not say he can bring to life. He goes much farther. He says he is life. And he doesn’t say that all who believe in him may know his resurrection power. But all who believe in him will know his resurrection power. And he asks Martha if she believes this. If she truly believes this. In the face of her brother’s death, can she affirm this?

She says yes.

Jesus goes to manifest his glory, and do his Father’s will. He weeps before the tomb of Lazarus, joining in the sorrow of the mourners. Joining the sorrow of Mary and Martha. Joining all of us in our grief when we confront the event of death. But through his tears he commands Lazarus to come out. And he does. Bound in his funeral wrappings Lazarus climbs out from the tomb. And the people unbind him and take him home.

Death is a reality we have all come to face, or we will all come to face. Death is tragic and unfair. And people lose their lives in all manner of different ways. Some are cut short like Lazarus was. Some live to a ripe old age. But no matter how it comes about, we all die. And each death, when we encounter it, feels wrong. It shatters our world. We sense, deeply, that it’s not supposed to happen. That it wasn’t meant to be.

Mary and Martha have a great reason to feel that. They call upon the man who can give life, who can heal, and nothing happens. Perhaps you’ve experienced the same thing. Not all prayers are answered as we hope. Life is far from fair.

But Mary and Martha also possess the hope beyond hope. They possess the faith beyond faith. And they are witness to the glory of God. Jesus is resurrection. Jesus is eternal life. And the life Jesus possesses is a life all may receive. The resurrection Jesus is is a resurrection we may all come to know. The power over death Jesus reveals in the raising of Lazarus is a power that belongs to him. A victory that he has won. A victory he would give to each and every one of us.

In all the sufferings, and grief, and loss of this world we may hold this in full confidence: Jesus is life. That life he freely gives. And the day is coming when there will be no more death. When his victory will be manifest and certain. And we all may join together in that resurrection life.

Encounter: Man Born Blind

Encounter: Man Born Blind

Jesus Gives Sight

John 9:1-41

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. March 19th, 2023

One question that has troubled me is how I might have responded to the ministry of Jesus if I were a Jew or a peasant in 1st century Galilee. I’m sure we all wish we would be part of the crowds who flocked to see him. Perhaps we might imagine ourselves as some of his ardent disciples. But the gospels tell us even Peter denied him in the end. And three times at that. There’s a very troubling passage in Mark’s gospel where Jesus’ own family tries to seize him claiming he has gone out of his mind. If anyone knew Jesus you’d hope it’d be his family. And then the religious experts from Jerusalem arrive and allege that it is only by being in league with Beelzebul, that is Satan, that he casts out demons. Many times the people you’d expect to get Jesus, don’t. And the people you don’t expect to get Jesus, like the syrophonecean woman who breaks into his house and begs him to heal her daughter, do.

I’d like to think I’d be the syrophonecian woman, or the centurion who sends his servant ahead to say “I am not worthy that you should come under my roof, but only say the word and my servant will be healed.” Jesus said he hadn’t seen such faith in all of Israel. And yet, I have biblical knowledge like a pharisee. I have the wealth of a tax collector. And who is to know how I might respond even today to the Spirit moving where he will. Who knows how I would respond even today if Jesus were to pass on by.

Our gospel reading this morning hammers on this point. How are we to recognize the work of Christ in our midst? How are our eyes opened? How do we see Jesus? How can we be sure of the work of God in our midst in whatever form it might take? We are told there is a man who was blind from birth. Jesus’ disciples ask how it is that this man was born blind. Was it his sin or the sin of his parents? It’s an odd question to ask, but such questions were not uncommon in those days. Jesus tells them this man was not born blind on account of anyone’s sin, but that he might heal him and show forth his glory. Because Jesus is the light of the world, giving light to the eyes.

Jesus then spits on the ground, makes mud from the dust, and puts it in the mans eyes. He commands him to go to the pool of Siloam, which means Sent. And how ironic is that, the one who is sent to save us sends the man to the pool of Sent. There the man washes out his eyes, and he can see.

One might think this would be a joyous occasion. A blind man received his sight! But it’s actually a moment of crisis. First, his neighbors have no idea what to make of the situation. Is this really the man who was formerly blind? Is it his doppelgänger? How did it even happen? Not knowing how to make sense of the situation, they send him to the pharisees to look for answers. But the Pharisees are upset because the healing took place on the Sabbath, when no work was to be done. Let alone a healing. And they are upset because he attributes the healing to Jesus, who they are sure is a sinner. In the end, they cast the man out of the synagogue because he will not recant. This man, Jesus, healed him. Once he was blind, and now he can see. A sinner could not do such a thing. A prophet could not do such a thing. No one has ever heard of a man blind from birth receiving his sight. Why, such a sign points to one thing. Jesus came from God.

When Jesus hears that they cast him out he returns to find him, and reveals his identity as the Son of Man. When the formerly blind man begins to worship him Jesus says, “I cam into this world for judgment so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind.” And here is the punchline. There are some Pharisees mucking about and they hear Jesus say this. “Surely we are not blind, are we?” They ask. After all, they have the scriptures, they have the tradition, they have the training, they have the smarts, they do the work. Surely they can see? But Jesus replies, “If you were blind, you would not have sin. But now that you say, ‘we see,’ your sin remains.”

Jesus performs a wondrous work. He heals a man who was blind from birth. But in so doing he renders the pharisees blind. They have a blindness far worse than physical blindness. They have a spiritual blindness that prevents them from seeing the works of God.

Why can’t they see the power of God in Jesus’ encounter with the man born blind? But because Jesus heals on the sabbath, which is not according to their tradition. Jesus does not act in the way they expect their messiah to act. He does not come from where they expect their messiah to come from. And he is not part of their group. So they assume that what he does must be sin. They assume that he is a charlatan, or in league with evil forces.

They have all sorts of preconceptions that keep them from seeing God’s manifest work. They have an ideology that makes them blind. And we have this same danger today. It is easy for us to assume we know what the Bible must say, it is easy for us to assume that we know who is and is not of the Kingdom. We assume too easily that discernment has been accomplished, or that is unneeded. We might be like the pharisees who too readily have the answers, and are rendered blind.

But how might we see? In the case of the man born blind, why, it’s as simple as he was once lost and was found was blind but now he sees. Sometimes it’s as simple as the work of grace in our lives. And, you know, when you see it’s hard to interpret that for others. Very hard. And takes a lot of grace.

But to put it to the point. How might we know if a preacher is a true preacher, the Spirit is alive in a given Church, if a revival is a revival, if someone has truly received the new birth? How do we know if God has called someone into his Kingdom? Or if God has called us to a particular work? How do we discern the work of God in our midst? It’s easy to say we were once blind and now see. But what about us spectators?

It can be hard to see beyond your nose. If we don’t want to fall into the pharisees error it takes humility. It takes courage. It takes patience. It takes prayer. It takes not just our own individual discernment, but discernment with the whole Church. It takes clear and evident spiritual fruit. It takes the grace of God, in the end, to keep our eyes open. To guide us to his light.

Encounter: Samaritan Woman

Encounter: Samaritan Woman

Jesus Seeks Sinners

John 4:5-42

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. March 12th, 2023

Jesus isn’t always in the places we expect, or with the people we expect. Last week  a pharisee found Jesus in the middle of the night. The teacher of Israel sought his Lord, though he did not know it at the time. This morning Jesus crosses the borders of Judea, and enters Samaria.

The Samaritans were and are the descendants of the Northern Kingdom of Israel. The short version of their history is that following the reign of King Solomon the Kingdom of Israel divided in two. The Northern Kingdom was made up of ten tribes, the southern Kingdom based in Jerusalem was made up of two. After the destruction of the Northern Kingdom at the hands of the Assyrians, and the conquest and exile of the Southern Kingdom of Judah at the hands of the Babylonians, the Samaritans were the people who remained. But when the Jews returned from their exile they found much to disagree with the Samaritans. They worshiped on Mount Gerazim, not on Mount Zion. Their Law was different, and the Jews regarded them as unclean.

Samaritans and Jews did not get along. In Luke’s Gospel we are told Jesus was refused when he tried to pass through Samaritan lands. It is this enmity between Jew and Samaritan that forms the backdrop of Jesus’ famous parable of the Good Samaritan. The Samaritan looks beyond the enmity between his people and the beaten down Jew, but simply has compassion on the man and saves his life.

Jesus stops near Sychar, at the well Jacob dug and gave to his son Joseph. It is about high noon when a woman comes by to draw water. This is a strange scene for a number of reasons. First, Jesus the Jew is in the land of the Samaritans. Secondly, Jesus the Jewish man alone in the presence of a woman which broke the rules of propriety. And, finally, what is this woman doing drawing water in the heat of the day? It would be more reasonable, and was more common, to draw water in the morning when it was cool. But she left her home, perhaps a mile or more away, to bear the scorching heat and the weight of the full jar. Much of this scene does not add up.

When Jesus sees the woman arrive he says, “Give me a drink.” The woman is puzzled, “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?”

But Jesus is the very wisdom of God walking the earth. He is God incarnate, the light of the world, the Lord of Israel. He does not seek a drink, he seeks a soul. So he begins to reach her, “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, 'Give me a drink,' you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water.” The woman is further confused. Living water happens to be an aramaic idiom for running water (which is just an english idiom for water that moves). So she interprets Jesus saying there is water that he would give her. “"Sir, you have no bucket, and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water?  Are you greater than our ancestor Jacob, who gave us the well, and with his sons and his flocks drank from it?”

Indeed, he is. Because the water Jesus has to offer is not the water that you drink and you are thirsty again. The water Jesus has to offer is the water of the Spirit. “Those who drink of the water that I will give them” Jesus says, “will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.”

Excited to receive this water, likely still thinking he means the sort you drink, she says, "Sir, give me this water, so that I may never be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water.”

Jesus tells her to go get her husband and come back, if she would receive the water. But she admits that she has no husband. And here we come to perhaps the most perplexing part of the episode. Jesus says, “You are right in saying, 'I have no husband’; for you have had five husbands, and the one you have now is not your husband. What you have said is true!"

Perhaps here we finally see why it is that the woman bore the heat of the day in drawing water around noon. She was a woman who, for whatever reason, had many husbands and presently lived in what the samaritans of the day (and the Jews as well) would have regarded as adultery.

So let’s take a step back and count everything that’s wrong about this scene. Jesus, a Jew, is in the country of the Samaritans. Samaritans don’t take too kindly to Jews around them parts. Jesus, a Jewish man, is alone with a Samaritan woman and even asks for water. Again, not the sort of thing that commonly happened. And, finally, that woman lived with a man who was not her husband. She would have been regarded as a sinner. And yet Jesus spoke to her, asked her for a drink, and shared the gospel with her. "I know that Messiah is coming,” the woman said. ”When he comes, he will proclaim all things to us.” But Jesus says to her, "I am he, the one who is speaking to you.”

Out of that conversation a whole village came to know the good news of the Messiah of God, the Lord of Israel. But that good news was not shared in the expected place, a synagogue, a jewish town square. But it was shared among the wrong people, to a sinner. And yet, and yet, it is a message that must always be shared to the wrong people. Jesus encounters the wrong people. Jesus is found among the wrong people.

Paul reminds us this morning, “while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly.” And, “God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us.” And, “For if while we were enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son, much more surely, having been reconciled, will we be saved by his life.” Jesus said once he came not for the well but for the sick. Not for the righteous but for the sinner.

The message of Jesus Christ, his life and death and resurrection is for all who know their sin and weakness, who do not know where to turn. Who have nowhere to go. Who are forced to bear the noonday heat and draw the water alone. Jesus came for us who know our sin, who seek a new life. And by his death we may know life. By his resurrection we may know salvation.

Encounter: Nicodemus

Encounter: Nicodemus

You Must Be Born Again

John 3:1-17

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. March 5th, 2023

Nicodemus was not a dumb man. He was a member of the Pharisee party, and a leader of the Jews. His whole life up to this point would have been devoted to an intensive study of scripture. His life would have been formed by the prayers and rituals of his people. He would have spent his days disputing with others over how to apply the Law in even the most outrageous of circumstances. And he was also charged to care for the Jewish people under his stead, giving them loving guidance according to the teachings of scripture and precepts of the Law.

The man who goes to visit Jesus in the cover of night is no fool. Rather, he is one of the best and brightest of Israel. A leader of his people. Perhaps one of the most gifted men of his day. And, moreover, it is due to his mastery of scripture and knowledge of the Law that he comes to visit this strange itinerant rabbi who is causing a storm. He tells Jesus, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God.” He sees the things Jesus is doing, and knows he must be from God.

But mastery isn’t enough. Seeking mastery, or putting our trust in mastery, can be a great temptation. Especially mastery in matters of religion. By mastery I mean a comprehensive and complete knowledge of some subject matter, or skill in some discipline. In this case, Nicodemus exhibits mastery in the Scriptures and Law. But that mastery isn’t enough. As we will see, that mastery still leaves him blind to what matters.

Jesus exposes his blindness when he says, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.” Here Jesus does something that will become characteristic in the Gospel of John. Something that we will see again and again through out Lent. He uses a double entendre that we can’t hear in english. But is very plain in greek. When he says “born from above” the same phrase can also be rendered “born again.” Same words, two very different meanings. And Jesus says this to fish out how Nicodemus might receive the phrase. Will he hear the phrase in a spiritual sense? Or will he hear the phrase in a fleshly sense?

Nicodemus hears the phrase in a fleshly sense. “How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother's womb and be born?” What Nicodemus hears Jesus saying is that we must be born again, climb into the womb and come out a second time.

But that is not what Jesus means. He means we must be born again but from above. “Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit. What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit. Do not be astonished that I said to you, 'You must be born from above.’” Jesus is saying that the knowledge Nicodemus has come to master is not enough. It is not enough to master the things of this world. To have a comprehensive knowledge of earthly things, of facts and figures and propositions. It is not enough to be skilled in argument, or skilled in jurisprudence. Because what is important is that we may enter the Kingdom of God by being born through water and the Spirit. By knowing that new birth that is given in baptism. By being transformed through the grace of God, given to a new life.

One may be skilled in knowledge of the things of this world, but if we are to be skilled in the matters of the Kingdom of God we can only receive that from above. We need to be born again into God’s new creation, God’s new reign.

This encounter between Jesus and Nicodemus is characteristic of the encounters that we will continue to see throughout Lent. Jesus meets someone who is somehow blinded to who he is, or what he is doing, or the things of God. Jesus begins to speak in a double entendre, that is then misunderstood. It is misunderstood because the person he’s talking to is too focused on the earthly and not on the heavenly. Having exposed that, Jesus begins to clarify, and he clarifies in such a way that exposes what rendered his conversation partner blind.

"Are you a teacher of Israel,” Jesus asks “and yet you do not understand these things?” What is it that Nicodemus does not understand? He does not understand that the Spirit moves where it wills. He does not understand that the Son of God must come and die. He does not understand that through Jesus there is eternal life. That he must abide in him, trust in him. “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.”

I can easily identify with Nicodemus. I can easily be the person who seeks mastery of earthly knowledge and facts of the Bible. I can easily imagine that by knowing things about the Bible, and knowing things about theology, that it somehow means that I have a relationship with God. But that is not the case. Knowing things about the Bible means dip without the New Birth. Somehow reading all the theologians of the world means little without trusting and believing in him.

Jesus doesn’t call us to mastery, he calls us to trust. He doesn’t call us to master the things of this world, but to be born again, through him, in him. And being born again means being an infant again. It means humbling oneself again. It means entrusting others to care for you again. It means being transformed again. And in here is new life. And in here is good news.

Encounter: Temptation

Encounter: Temptation

Jesus Removes Concupiscence

Genesis 2:15-17; 3:1-7; Matthew 4:1-11

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. Feb. 26th, 2023

The Venerable Fulton Sheen told a story about Adam going out for a walk with his young sons Cain and Abel. Heading west they come across the entrance to Eden. From a distance they can see the cherubim with his flaming sword, baring the way. Preventing Adam from ever returning to paradise again. He looks back to his sons and says with a sigh, “kids, this is where your mother ate us out of house and home.”

Of course, Adam is not being honest here. Perhaps, we can chalk up his comment to the effects of sin. We heard this morning how God planted a garden and appointed Adam to till and keep it. It was a very good deal. He was allowed to eat freely of every tree in the garden. But there was only one tree whose fruit was forbidden: the tree of the knowledge of Good and Evil.

True it is Eve who encounters the serpent. A creature, we are told, who was craftier than any other wild animal God had made. The serpent tells Eve that if she eats the fruit she will certainly not die, but will be made like God. With the words of the serpent in mind she notices the fruit is desirable to the eyes, looks good to eat, and can even make her wise. Now it was Adam who received the command not to eat it, and Adam’s responsibility to intervene. But he doesn’t. You see, he’s there the whole time. And when Eve offers him the fruit he eats.

It was not just Eve who ate the first family out of house and home.

This story of of the temptation of our first parents, and their fall, is contrasted with the account of our brother and Lord Jesus Christ. He too is tempted by Satan. And they are enticing temptations. First, the starving man is tempted to break his fast by turning stones into bread. But he counters with Scripture, “One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.” The words he awaits in his fast.

Seeing he’s getting nowhere Satan takes him to Jerusalem and places him on the pinnacle of the Temple. He tells him to cheat death and jump because the Bible promises God’s protection. But Jesus says “it is written, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’”

Getting frustrated Satan takes Jesus to a very high mountain and gives him a vision of all the kingdoms in the world, all their wealth and splendor. And he promises Jesus it can all be his, if he will only bow down and worship him. That might seem like a bargain. But Jesus will not take the world by the devil’s means. So he casts Satan out.

Adam is disobedient, Jesus is obedient. Adam sins, Jesus is righteous. When we sin we are like our father Adam. But when we have faith we are like our brother and Lord Jesus. Jesus confronts Satan and resists his temptations to show us that it is possible: through him.

But what makes Jesus different than Adam? Or Eve? You might say he’s God, and very well, but he’s also completely and utterly human. You might say Jesus is without sin, but so where Adam and Eve. There is something that goes wrong for Adam, wrong for Eve, that also goes wrong for us. But it doesn’t go wrong for Jesus. And identifying that will help us as we continue our journey through Lent.

When the serpent tempts Eve, and reveals the fruit of the knowledge of Good and Evil will not kill her, we are told she, “saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise.” She looks at the tree and her desire is inflamed. And while she once looked at the tree as something harmful or dangerous, she now looked at the tree and saw it was “good.”

When we sin it is the same. I do not think anyone sins because they wish to do something harmful or dangerous. At least not in the moment. We sin because we think it’s good to be angry, or it’s good to be greedy, or our envy is justified. We sin because our desires are inflamed, and we have delight in the wrong things.

But it’s more than simply having our desires inflamed. Because surely Jesus’ desire was inflamed by the notion of warm bread. Few things are better when you’re starving. Or surely Jesus was enticed by the promise of cheating death. Who wouldn’t be? It’s about acting on those desires, looking for nothing more than self-fulfillment and disregarding the commands of God.

There’s a big word for this in Christian moral theology. Consider it our word of the day. And that word is concupiscence. The word comes from latin, literally meaning “I desire strongly.” It names our tendency to earnestly and deeply desire the wrong things. To have our hearts inflamed for things of the world, things of the flesh, and not the things of God. Martin Luther characterized it as being curved in on oneself. Sin in our life makes us self-absorbed, and desire nothing more than simple self-satisfaction. But the more self-absorbed you become, the more self-satisfaction you satisfy, the more miserable you become. Because we are not meant to be curved in on ourselves, we are meant to be open to God and others. The creatures that curve in on themselves, in the end, are the dead.

Adam and Eve have this concupiscence, this curving in on themselves. They desire the fruit, against God’s commands, because it looks good to eat and offers a promise they don’t quite understand. Jesus does not have this concupiscence. He is not curved in on himself. He lives for others. He is truly free. And would free us as well.

The next few weeks we will witness Jesus encountering others who are burdened by the effects of sin, and how he opens them up to grace. By extension too, we will see how we may be opened up.

Reign: New Heavens and New Earth

Reign: New Heavens and New Earth

God Creates

Isaiah 66:16-25

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. Nov. 13th, 2022

In the year 587 BC King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon captured Jerusalem, destroyed the Temple, and drove the elites of the city into exile. For most peoples an event like this would have marked the end of their history. They would have been assimilated and forgotten their own history. Their language would have become the language of Babylon. Their customs become the customs of Babylon. Instead the Jews remained faithful to the God of their ancestors, kept their customs, and in 538 BC were restored to the land of their ancestors and given permission to rebuild their Temple.

The experience of exile changed the way the Jews saw their God. They realized the God of Israel was a deity among deities, one of the many local gods the tribes of humanity might take on as their own. But rather, the one universal God who exposes all other so called gods to be false and liars. The prophets had insisted that God is sovereign, that God is jealous, that the people of the covenant were called to remain faithful to the one true God and not take on foreign gods. But as the books of Kings recount, the leaders of Israel and Judah were given to worship foreign idols, and to promote their worship among the people of Israel. In the experience of exile the Jews discovered that God did not abandon them when they were removed from the land. Instead, God fought for them, and restored them to the land of his promise.

“Comfort, comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and proclaim to her hat her hard service has been completed, that her sin has been paid for, that she has received from the Lord’s hand double for all her sins.” Isaiah wrote. “A voice of one calling: “In the wilderness prepare the way for the Lord; make straight in the desert a highway for our God.” With these words the people were restored to the land, and in time rebuilt the Temple and restored the sacrifices.

But the restoration of Israel did not happen the way many had expected. Jerusalem was still rendering tribute to foreign powers on which she was dependent. Many in the land still did not keep the Law. And the visible glory of the Lord had not returned to the Temple. It was a restoration, yes, but a restoration that left much to be desired. Those who listened to the prophets had expected so much more.

God speaks this morning to remind his people that he has not settled. The promises of God exceed the settlement of Jerusalem with the Persians. The promises of God exceed the liberty and blessings many experience here in America. The promises of God exceed any temporal political arrangement. The promises of God exceed those moments of our life when we have known the greatest bliss. The promises of God concern a peace, a joy, an eternity beyond our imagining. What God promises for us can only be described as new. A new heaven. A new earth.

“For I am about to create,” God says, “new heavens and a new earth; the former things shall not be remembered or come to mind.” The promises will be fulfilled, God says, when “no more shall there be in it an infant that lives but a few days, or an old person who does not live out a lifetime; for one who dies at a hundred years will be considered a youth, and one who falls short of a hundred will be considered accursed.” In the new earth God makes, “The wolf and the lamb shall feed together, the lion shall eat straw like the ox; but the serpent--its food shall be dust! They shall not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain, says the LORD.”

We still await this promise. After the restoration of Israel, we await this promise. After the resurrection of Jesus, we await this promise. Through every tribulation, season of doubt, grief, and suffering, we await this promise. The total recreation of the world. The restoration of the heavens and the earth. Not into something unlike it is today, but perfecting the world we now know so that there will be no more death, no more pain, no more grief.

God can do this because of the glorious mystery the Jews discovered in their Babylonian Captivity. God is not bound to fate. He is not like the gods of the Greeks who overthrew the titans and established civilization. He is not like the gods of the ancient near east who formed the earth through combat and violence. But he stands above all creation, having spoken the heavens and the earth into being from nothing. There is no power on this earth that remotely competes with the power of God. There is no force on this earth that is as strong as God. God cannot be frustrated. God will not be dethroned.

But God will fulfill the promise we have heard this morning. After the wars and rumors of wars. After the false messiahs and the false promises. After the wannabe caesars parade their lies and boasts. After the charlatans tell us what our itching ears want to hear. After all this goes down, God will remain. We will be raised. God will recreate. And the former things will pass away. Our tears will be dried. And we will know the joy for which we were created. “I am about to create Jerusalem as a joy, and its people as a delight.”

Reign: All Saints

Reign: All Saints

God’s Saints Receive a Kingdom

Luke 6:20-31

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. Nov. 6th, 2022

The Lord reigns! Paul tells us this morning, “God put this power to work in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly places, far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named, not only in this age but also in the age to come.” The Lord reigns! “And he has put all things under his feet and has made him the head over all things for the church, which is his body, the fullness of him who fills all in all.”

With Jesus comes power. With Jesus comes might. With Jesus comes authority. He alone is King of Kings and Lord of Lords. He alone brandishes all power and rule. He alone has conquered the powers of hell. His dominion extends farther than any emperor. His armies are more innumerable than any great power. And his reign is ceaseless, unending.

His disciples knew his great power. That’s why one day James and John made a request. “Let one of us sit at your right and the other at your left in your glory.” They knew his glory far surpassed that of Caesar. They knew he would come to rule as he has. And they knew he loved them. So they wanted to sit in the seats of choicest honor, to his right and to his left. Jesus, however, told them they did not know what they were asking. Because they did not understand the nature of his power, the nature of his authority. He asked them if they were willing to undergo his baptism, or willing to drink the cup he would drink. They said they were able, in their foolhardiness. They did not realize he was asking them if they were willing to be martyred, to join him in his death.

The other disciples grumbled among themselves at the request of James and John. How dare they think they were better than the other disciples? So Jesus told them among the gentiles Kings lord themselves over others. But not so among those who belong to the Kingdom. For us, for the Church, it is the servant of all who is ruler. And the son of man comes not to dominate, but to give his life as a ransom for many.

Another time the disciples were bickering among themselves about who will be greatest in the Kingdom of heaven. So Jesus took a child and put him in their midst and said, “unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” Or, another time when his disciples were trying to keep the children away, Jesus demanded that they let the children come to him, for to such the kingdom of heaven belongs. The Kingdom of heaven is not about physical power, charisma, wealth, might, greatness. It is instead about meekness, humility, forgiveness, love.

Jesus truly rules. He has conquered. But he conquers through his cross. Not with an army. Not with a sword. But by giving up his own life. Laying it down of his own accord. By giving his life as a ransom for many he rules. And so, too, life in the Kingdom of God entails that same self-giving. That same humility and meekness.

Today we celebrate All Saints Sunday, which is a feast that dates back to the middle ages. Early on in the Church’s life it became customary to celebrate the lives of God’s saints on the anniversary of their death, which was understood to be the day of their entrance into the church triumphant. By celebrating the lives of the saints we celebrated the grace of God that made such saints. The process of naming and celebrating saints was, at first, largely informal. Some feasts, like the Nativity of St. John the Baptist, took off like wildfire and were quickly celebrated throughout the church. Others remained more localized as particular churches celebrated their own saints.

Soon we began to recognize that there are many saints who were being unjustly forgotten. In the book of Hebrews we read that we are “surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses.” The Book of Revelation speaks of a multitude wearing white robes washed in the blood of the lamb that was too many for John to number. The saints of Christ do not make up a tiny number. In two thousand years of history we have not seen so few saints that we failed to fill up the 365 days of a solar year. But the saints are innumerable. Because the grace of God is abundant to transform all of us and to make all of us like Christ.

All Saints began, then, as a day to celebrate all the saints God has given to us. Not just the widely celebrated like a Francis of Assisi or a John Wesley, but also the practically unknown saints whose memory remains in the churches in which they died.

We should not be surprised that there would be so many ordinary saints. So many faithful Christians who lived lives of love, forgiveness, mercy. So many who trusted in Christ so fully that they truly lived out his command to love even their enemies, to give to all who came across their path, to pray for even those who hurt them. I think we can all say we’ve known such saints. We should not be surprised because Christ reigns, and we ought to see such signs of his reign. We should not be surprised because the grace of God is sufficient for all. And we should not be surprised because being a saint is not about being better than anyone else. Being the smartest, or fastest, or getting first place. Being a saint is about love and forgiveness and humility. There is no scarcity in such things. All may love and we’ll never run out. All may forgive and we will never run out of forgiveness. All can be humble and no one loses their position.

On this All Saints let’s celebrate God’s reign by remembering those who witness to it: the ordinary saints in our midst who taught us the way of the cross. The way of life and peace.

Reign: Repentance

Reign: Repentance

God’s Grace Precedes Repentance

Luke 19:1-10

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. Oct. 30th, 2022

Jesus says the Son of Man came to seek and save the lost. We may like to think of the lost as the people who fall through the cracks. Good, decent, people who fall on hard times and are forgotten by society. But for Jesus the lost are very visible, indeed. He counts among the ranks of the lost prostitutes. He seeks out Samaritans, and marvels at the faith of powerful gentiles. He also regards tax collectors as among the ranks of the lost. Even the chief tax collectors, those who benefit most from their unseemly dealings.

When we think of tax collectors in Jesus’ day we shouldn’t think of the IRS. These aren’t government bureaucrats. Ancient states, like Herod’s Judea or Tiberius’ Rome, relied on tax revenue (and tribute) to keep afloat as any state does. But they lacked the power of modern states. The IRS can do audits because the records at least ought to exist. Zacchaeus was never going to threaten someone with an audit, though he could call the soldiers in. Instead ancient states would farm out their tax collection to individuals whose job was to go door to door, homestead to homestead, village to village, and demand taxes in the name of the sovereign.

Zacchaeus would have been loathed for three reasons. First, no one likes to pay taxes. I’d say that’s a constant throughout history. Second, tax collectors were believed to skim off the top. King Herod might demand so much money from the tax collector, but the average peasant has no idea what is required. So the tax collector would defraud the peasant by asking for more money than was required and living well off of the surplus. But third, finally, and perhaps most importantly, tax collectors like Zacchaeus were thought to be collaborators with their imperial oppressors. They benefit from working for King Herod, who himself benefited from being a friend to Caesar. And money collected in taxes was also money given in tribute to Rome.

No wonder, then, tax collectors like Zacchaeus were regarded as sinners. Literal outcasts. Despised. Hated. But Jesus regards Zacchaeus as simply lost. And makes it his mission to seek him out, and save him.

We’re told Jesus was passing through Jericho, the hometown of Zacchaeus. A man who was not merely a tax collector, but chief of the tax collectors! And rich. Zacchaeus heard about Jesus, a charismatic preacher able to produce miracles, and wanted to see him. But someone was too short. Traditionally we think Zacchaeus was too short, a wee little man was he. But in truth the story is vague. Jesus might have been the short one! In either case Zacchaeus can’t see through the crowds and climbs up a sycamore tree.

While Zacchaeus is hanging out in the tree like some child Jesus looks up and notices him. “Zacchaeus,” Jesus says, “hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today.” I’ve read some people suspect Jesus knew who Zacchaeus was because of his supernatural knowledge. But I prefer to believe Jesus knows who Zacchaeus is because he’s the chief tax collector, and Jesus is known to hang out with his underlings.

Zacchaeus is overjoyed by Jesus’ overture, and hurries down the tree to invite him into his home. At this point the crowds grumble. Why is Jesus going to a sinner’s house? Doesn’t Jesus know what kind of a despicable man Zacchaeus is? How he defrauds the people of Jericho, how he benefits from the unjust and cruel rule of Herod, how he’s a collaborator with Rome?

But here’s the astonishing thing, while everyone outside is grumbling about how much of a sinner Zacchaeus is, inside Zacchaeus is joyfully repenting. "Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much.” In giving to the poor he is following the command Jesus gave to the rich young ruler, the command the ruler couldn’t follow because he was too much in love with his possessions. In saying he will pay back four times as much to anyone he has defrauded he is saying he will follow the mosaic law on the matter, which does indeed demand that four times the amount be paid back.

What an astonishing reversal! The man who was widely regarded to be a miserable sinner, the sort no one of good taste should ever hang out with, is now showing himself to be a man of righteousness. In the joyful presence of Jesus he is joyfully repenting of all wrongdoing, and showing himself to be, indeed, “a son of Abraham.” And so Jesus says, “salvation has come to this house.”

This account tells us something about the nature of repentance. We tend to think of repentance being a matter of remorse, of tears, something that only comes about by great suffering. And while Zacchaeus is certainly pledging to give up a lot of money, at great cost to his own livelihood, he does not repent through tears. Though, perhaps, tears of joy. There is a repentance that is born out of suffering, but there is also a repentance that is born out of joy. Zacchaeus is an example of the latter.

Jesus seeks Zacchaeus out. He invites himself to dinner. Zacchaeus stands in the presence of the Lord, in the presence of God almighty. He perceives, there, in that moment, the awesome glory of God. The glory for which we are created. He knows his soul filled. He knows the grace of God’s presence. Being given such a gift, knowing such grace, what can he do but repent? Must such meager things as money just melt away in such an awesome presence?

Zacchaeus reminds us that before repentance, at all times, comes the grace of God that calls us joyfully into the presence of God. That presence for which we were created, the presence which alone satiates the hunger of our soul. And when we know that presence, sin itself is seen as the shadow, the emptiness, the nothingness that it really is. The lost Zacchaeus, known as a sinner for miles around, repents by the grace of God. He puts away all he thought mattered, for the sake of what truly matters.

God's Love Poured Out

God’s Love Poured Out

What Sets Us Apart

Romans 5:1-5
Rev. Tim Callow
Preached Sun. June 12, 2022

In his autobiography Brother to a Dragonfly, Baptist minister Will Campbell tells the story about a conversation he had with a former newspaper editor who would chide him with the question “And what’s the state of the Easter chicken, Preacher Will?” Finally, one day, Will Campbell asked him what he meant. The man explained, “You know, Preacher Will, that Church of yours and Mr. Jesus is like an Easter chicken my little Karen got one time. Man, it was a pretty thing. Dyed a deep purple. Bought it at the grocery store.”

He explained how over time the chicken, which made his wife very happy, began to feather out and the purple mixed with red plumage. He put the chicken in the coop with the others, but the other chickens didn’t accept it. Because the Easter chicken was different. They knew it, and the easter chicken knew it. They’d peck at it, and wouldn’t let it roost with them. But over time that chicken began to change. It the dyed feathers disappeared, it looked and acted just like any other chicken.

So Will asked the man, “Well, the Easter chicken is still useful. It lays eggs, doesn’t it?”

And then came the punchline: “Yea, Preacher Will. It lays eggs. But they all lay eggs. Who needs an Easter chicken for that? And the Rotary Club serves coffee. And the 4-H Club says prayers. The Red Cross takes up offerings for hurricane victims. Mental Health does counseling, and the Boy Scouts have youth programs.”

Same goes for the Church. What sets us apart from the Rotary, 4-H, Red Cross, Mental Health, and Boy Scouts? What is the particular place and purpose of the Church? What do we do, what are we about, that cannot be found in any other voluntary organization? That cannot be found in any social service?

It is easy to fall into the rut of seeing the Church as the sum of its programming. The Church feeds the poor. The Church is a place to raise children in morality. The Church offers a place for recovery and healing. But that can’t be it. All of that can be part of it. But it can’t be the sum of it.

Paul helps to draw us back to the core of what makes the Church the Church in our reading from Romans this morning. “Therefore,” he writes, “since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.” That is the first point that sets us apart. We are set apart by the gospel we proclaim in word and deed. We are that society that proclaims Jesus victorious over sin. We proclaim that by his cross we are forgiven. By his resurrection we may know life and may have peace with God. We also proclaim, “through him we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand; and we boast in our hope of sharing the glory of God.” We not only proclaim the forgiveness of God, but also his grace. Not just to forgive, but to heal. To transform. And we proclaim the life eternal, sharing in the glory of God.

That is one way we are set apart, the things we teach. But there is a second way we are set apart, a second way we are the easter chicken and not just any other ordinary chicken. Or at least, a way we ought to be set apart. Paul writes, “God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.”

We are also the people who have been gifted the Holy Spirit, the presence of God in our midst. And that Holy Spirit is the love of God poured into our hearts. That one love is shared among us. So we are that society gathered in the presence of God, held by the bonds of love. That love, the fellowship and support, ought to also characterize the society of the Church. “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples,” Jesus said, “if you love one another.”

Here then are two characteristics that make us easter chickens, not just any old ordinary chickens. We are set apart by the good news we proclaim: Jesus crucified and risen. The forgiveness of our sins. The grace of God. Eternal life. And all of this not of our own doing, but sheerly by God’s work for us. Out of love for us. And we are also separated by that love, the Spirit poured into our hearts that binds us. That we may show in the love and forgiveness we share among one another God’s love to a world that needs to see and not just hear.

Without the proclamation, without the Spirit, the Church becomes just another social club or social service. It is God in our midst that sets us apart, because God has set us apart. It is Christ we have to offer the world.

Pentecost Sermon

Pentecost

The Church is the Gift of God

Acts 2:1-21
Rev. Tim Callow
Preached Sun. June 5, 2022

After Jesus had ascended into heaven the apostles waited to see what God had next in store. On the feast of Pentecost they were gathered all in one place. It was on that morning that the sound like a violent wind came down from heaven, and filled the whole house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, we are told fell on each of the disciples. And then, the sky opened and coming down from heaven, complete, and pure, was… the Book of Discipline.

The apostles immediately went about the first Charge Conference. They elected Peter as lay leader. James would be head of the church council. Matthew would be the finance chair. It was a struggle to find someone to chair the SPPRC, but in the end Bartholomew stood up. Trustees would be headed by John. And John Mark took the minutes.

A joyous time was had by all as they heard reports and passed motions according to Roberts Rules of Order. They wrote a mission statement, and vision statement, staffed their committees with volunteers, and went to work. And so the Church was born.

No, no, it didn’t go that way. It didn’t go that way because the Church isn’t formed by her bylaws and mission statements. Peter and the rest weren’t given Roberts Rules and a board and sub-committees.

Instead, the Church is the gift of God. It is the society formed by the outpouring of the Spirit. On that important morning as Moses had received the covenant on Mt. Sinai the apostles received the Holy Spirit. The Spirit descended as flames of fire, and gave them the ability to speak in all the tongues of the nations. Jews from all over the world were gathered in Jerusalem that day to celebrate the festival, to celebrate the delivery of the Law to Moses. And it was to this global gathering that the apostles first preached. They left the place they were staying and went out into the streets, so full of the Spirit of God that they proclaimed, “everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved!”

The people listening had not experienced such power before, and thought they must be drunk. “Not so,” Peter said, “It is only 9 in the morning. No, what you are witnessing is what has been foretold by the prophet Joel, ‘In the last days it will be, God declares, that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams.’”

Friends, this is the Church. It is the gift of God, formed by the Holy Spirit. God gifts us his presence and empowers us to give thanks and proclaim his gospel to the world. The Church is not first and foremost something we make, or we create, it is first and foremost something God gives us. And it is by the Holy Spirit, and only by the Holy Spirit, that we might be the Church. A people called from every language and nation. A diverse people who are made one in the gift of the Spirit that has been poured out upon us.

The rest of it, the committees and bylaws and the visioning, all comes secondary. It’s all secondary to the work of God in our midst, the gift of his Spirit, the giftings and talents poured out for each and everyone one of us.

Let us not forget this about ourselves. That the Church is not simply something we are called to make up. We do not decide who comes in or who goes out. And, ultimately, the Church does not depend on our own work or effort. The Church is God’s gift to us. The love we share, the fellowship we have, the grace we receive, the things we learn, those we serve, the lives transformed, this is not our doing but is God’s doing. It is all God’s gift to us.

So on this day let us give thanks. Let us praise God for friendships. Praise God for his love. Praise God for the gift of this beautiful community and place. Because it is God’s work in our midst to bring us together. It is God’s work in our midst to shower us in grace, to bring to us salvation. And what can we do in response but praise his name?

The Scriptures Are About Jesus

You study the Scriptures diligently because you think that in them you have eternal life. These are the very Scriptures that testify about me, yet you refuse to come to me to have life.- John 5:39-40

One of the tasks I’ve set for this year is to think more deeply about how we interpret Scripture. And, by extension, how I ought to interpret Scripture in my sermons. It’s not self-evident how Scripture is meant to be read. Take the Song of Songs, a book of the Bible that doesn’t come up much in sermons. The Song reads like an erotic poem and God is scarcely mentioned. How is that the word of God? In the book of Esther God’s name never comes up. God hardly seems present in the book of Ruth, only invoked two times. If these books are the word of God, for us the people of God, how are we supposed to read them without mutilating their meaning? In other words, was Ruth meant to be read as a story about God’s providence or a story about Ruth’s tenacity? And do we do justice to that wonderful story if we read it as a story about God?

At the risk of digging myself a greater hole, Paul’s own reading of scripture seems quite strange to modern ears. Paul doesn’t care about the historical context of scripture, or what the author may have originally intended. In his letter to the Galatians he argues that because the scripture says God made the promise to Abraham and his “offspring” it must mean the promise is fulfilled in Christ. As Jesus is the singular offspring of Abraham. In another place in the same letter he reads the story of Hagar and Sarah as an allegory about two covenants. Interestingly enough he does not say he’s reading that story as an allegory, he says the story is an allegory. For Paul, it seems, Jesus unlocks the true meaning of Scripture.

In 2 Corinthians he writes, "We are not like Moses, who would put a veil over his face to prevent the Israelites from seeing the end of what was passing away. But their minds were made dull, for to this day the same veil remains when the old covenant is read. It has not been removed, because only in Christ is it taken away. Even to this day when Moses is read, a veil covers their hearts. But whenever anyone turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away. Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And we all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.” (2 Cor. 3:13-18)

All of Scripture refers to Jesus. Whether it foretells Jesus’ coming, explains Jesus’ character, rejoices in Jesus’ work, or tells us what Jesus is going to do, Jesus is the key that unlocks the word of God. That is why Jesus says in John that the scriptures “testify about me.” Jesus and his cross and resurrection were the secret hidden from the foundation of the world, and by that revelation what had come before becomes clear. The prophecies of Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel, are seen to have been about Jesus. David is seen to have been a foreshadowing of what was to come. Jesus brings unity to the Scripture, and makes sense of it for us.

Insofar as Scripture is Scripture, it all points to Jesus.

Belonging: Confession

Belonging: Confession

Call On the Name of the Lord

Romans 10:8b-13

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. March 6th, 2022

When I was serving up north I was sitting in on a Kiwanis meeting. The speaker that day was a representative from a fairly well known Christian charity, I won’t name names. They were there to explain their mission and the effects it has had on those they serve. The focus was on their mission to the Philippines. They told us how they meet the needs of many who are impoverished in the Philippines, and how they share the gospel with them as well. It was all very heartwarming to hear. I only had one issue with them. The Philippines is 87% Christian. By contrast the United States is 63% Christian. The Philippines is among the most Christian nations in the world.

If their goal is to spread the gospel, why are they targeting the Philippines? But this didn’t seem strange to anyone else in the room. They likely were not aware that there are more Christians per capita in the Philippines than in the United States. The assumption was they were another nation who was in need of our help, a different people who needed to hear the words of the gospel.

Incidentally, one of the reasons President McKinley gave to justify the Philippine-American war, back in 1899 was our duty to Christianize the country. Mission boards from all protestant denominations mobilized to divide up the nation and evangelize. There was only one problem: the Philippines was almost entirely Catholic at the time. 

Even today we watch the war in Ukraine. One of Vladimir Putin’s supposed justifications for his actions is the need to protect Russian Orthodox Christians in the separatist regions. But Ukraine is also an Eastern Orthodox nation, with their own national church. Christians fighting Christians. If only we would agree not to fight each other we could do a whole lot for world peace.

It truly is a scandal for the Church that we find ourselves divided. It is one thing to be divided on theological questions. From time to time in Church history there has been differences of opinion and debate is required to sort it out. It is quite another thing to allow ourselves to be divided by race, ethnicity, or nationality. These are precisely the divisions Christ overcomes by grace.

Our epistle reading this morning comes from the latter half of Paul’s letter to the Romans. Here he is addressing an issue that had threatened to split the Church in Rome apart. That is, how can non-Jews be Christian? How do the nations follow the Jewish messiah? Everyone was in agreement gentiles could be saved in principle. The Spirit that was upon them was undeniable. But how they, or I should say we speaking as a gentile myself, were to be incorporated was still a matter of debate.

Some argued that if gentiles were to be saved, we must take on the works of the Law in order to be made part of the covenant people. Which would mean circumcision, a whole new diet, taking Saturdays off, and following a new calendar. Others argued that Jesus fulfilled the Law so Law observance was no longer necessary.

Paul tended to be in the latter camp. He says, “if you confess with your lips that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.” There is no needing to be part of a certain people, or having a certain culture, or dressing a certain way, or being of a certain class. But if you confess with your lips that Jesus is Lord and no one else. That our brother Jesus is the King of Kings. That he holds the reigns of history, that he is in control. And if you believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, and so you do not fear the grave, then you will be saved.

We are the people who hold to a common confession. The confession of Jesus’ Lordship, the confession of Jesus’ resurrection. When we are able to confess these things, we are in a way one. Saying Jesus is Lord, and saying death has been defeated unites us as a people and sets us apart. That is also why Paul goes on to say, "For there is no distinction between Jew and Greek; the same Lord is Lord of all and is generous to all who call on him.”

All who call on the name of the Lord are saved. All. All who confess Jesus as Lord and confess his resurrection are made a new people. No more do we have these distinctions between Jew and Greek, or between filipino and anglo, or between Ukrainian and Russian. Do you confess as I confess? Then we are thicker than any blood. That is how it should be. 

Our Christmas Guest: Reversal

Our Christmas Guest: Reversal

He Who We Thought Was the Guest, is the Host

Luke 1:39-45

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. December 19th, 2021

A few years ago an old friend from undergrad came to visit.  At the time I was up in the UP, so I lived far off the beaten track. It wasn’t that often I would get friends from school visiting me up there.  It’s hard to have an event in, say, Detroit or Chicago and decide to take a jaunt up to the UP to see me.  But he was taking a round trip from Chicago to Boston, and decided to do that the UP way.  

I was excited.  I made sure to get the house spic and span.  I prepared his room for him, cleaning the desk so he had a place to read, putting in new air freshener plug ins, even going through the trouble of dusting.  The only problem was me.  As it turned out I was in no condition to act as a host.  My friend had arrived while I was very sick, and I didn’t even know the half of it at the time. I had been trying to convince myself I was getting better, even when I wasn’t, that my medicine was working, even when it wasn’t.  And as the weekend went on, I got sicker and sicker as I couldn’t keep up with my duties as host.

It wasn’t long before he was suggesting what we might do.  As I felt like I needed to convalesce it became clear that in some manner our roles had reversed.  Though I would have wanted to be the host, directing the entertainment and making sure he was comfortable, I had become the guest who was in need of care.  

A grand theme of Luke’s Gospel is such great reversals.  Mary’s song, that we heard this morning, is all about reversals.  He has cast down the mighty from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly.  He has filled the hungry with good things and the rich he has sent empty away.  So it is with the invasive grace of God.  In Jesus Christ God is literally turning the world upside down, reversing all that we once knew, raising the poor up and bringing the rich down.  Because the one who has come to save us all did not come as a King but as the child of a construction worker, and was revealed not to priests but to shepherds in their fields.  Christmas morning we may wake up to find the whole world transformed.

Think, as well, of the road to Emmaus.  Jesus meets two disciples on the road and they talk about the things that had taken place in Jerusalem.  Jesus uses the Scripture to show that the Messiah was to die, and come back from the dead.  They beg him to come to their place, that they may act as host for this guest they found on the road.  Jesus relents.  But as he comes to dinner he is the one who breaks the bread, and in breaking it his identity is revealed.  Though he was invited as a guest, it became clear that he was the host, the great host.

So too with us as well.  This month we have been talking about hospitality.  How we all await a great and terrific guest, and how we must prepare for that guest by tidying up our hearts through acts of repentance.  But truth be told, we are not so much waiting for a guest as much as we are preparing for the host.  He who we receive as a guest is truly the host.  He who comes as vulnerable is truly invulnerable.  He who seems to be in need is the one who fulfills our every want.  And all that we have been doing, has been as much his doing as our own.  We servants would not have been put to this work of repentance, of cleaning, of preparation were we not called to do so by our great host.

If you have been preparing well this Advent season, you are about to experience the great reversal.  The guest you have prepared to receive will be your host.  The heart-dwelling you’ve prepared may be his throne.  And Jesus is the great host, who will work wonders with what you have given him.  Who can do far more than we can ask or imagine.  

We thought we were in control, but it turns out we were never in control.  It is God who is in control, it is God who takes ownership, God who holds the reigns of the universe, who has prepared a place for us as much as we thought we were preparing a place for him.  And how wonderful that is.  That we may put our hope not in our own work, in our own ability, but in the all powerful and trustworthy God.  As we rapidly approach Christmas Day, lets take this moment to wait in awe, of the great reversal God has brought about, of all he may do for us, of all he has accomplished.

Our Christmas Guest: Repentance

Our Christmas Guest: Repentance

We Must Clean the House

Luke 3:7-18

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. December 12th, 2021

I am not compulsively neat. I get lazy. Books pile around the house. Clothes remain on the floor. Dishes lay in the sink. Food stays in the refrigerator a little too long. But I swear I’m not a slob. I’ll get around to it. I may not be able to pass a white glove inspection, but I can make it look good for an eye test. Few things provoke me more into cleaning, however, than news that guests are arriving.

I hate to have guests over with the house not up to par. There’s something embarrassing if people see me in my natural habitat. I think we all feel this way. We’d all rather our guests not see an unswept floor or a dining room table piled with junk mail. We want to be presentable. Most of the time I get an apology for the state of someone’s house I think to myself “it looks a lot better than my own.” 

But as much as I enjoy a clean house, I do not enjoy cleaning the house. It is something I will put off until I can’t put it off anymore. It’s boring, mindless, work. There’s all sorts of things I’d rather be doing. There’s a reason kids don’t want to clean their room. But it’s necessary work, and we all feel better once it’s done.

This Advent I’ve been preaching with an emphasis on hospitality. Many of us will be inviting guests in our homes this year. They may be friends, they may be family. But all of us ought to be extending that invitation to Jesus to stay with us. And Christmas is the celebration of his arrival. But if we are waiting on Jesus’ arrival that means there is work that needs to get done. We need to prepare a place for the King. And that means cleaning.

John the Baptist is Jesus’ RSVP. He comes to prepare a place for the Lord, he announces God’s arrival to us. And that announcement comes in the form of some hellfire and brimstone preaching. When John the Baptist came to town the local synagogue did not have to worry about the heating bill. He lit a fire wherever he showed up. We get a taste of his old time religion this morning. “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?” No one could accuse John of being seeker sensitive.

He tells them to “bear fruits worthy of repentance” and not to consider themselves worthy because they count Abraham as their ancestor. God can raise up ancestors of Abraham from stones. And in the course of the gospel we will see that. In the parable of Lazarus and the Rich Man the Rich Man may have counted himself an ancestor of Abraham but it is Lazarus who rests in his bosom. God is no respecter of persons. God looks into the heart. 

So how do we prepare ourselves for the King’s visit? We clean our homes through repentance, and bearing fruits worthy of repentance.

John calls the people to repentance. Those who lie, those who cheat, those who hate their neighbor, those who waste their time, those who worship idols, those who fail to follow God’s law, are all called to change their hearts and their minds. See that they are like vipers, see that they have walked down the path of sin and of death. And then turn away. Walk down a new path.

Repentance is first that change of heart, that resolution to walk in a new way. But what good is repentance if nothing comes of it? I think we’ve all known someone who apologized, said they’d change, and then didn’t. As grateful as we may be for the apology, what we really hope for is the change. Repentance is more than a New Years resolution. Repentance bears fruit.

We have a few examples of what this fruit worthy of repentance might look like as different people come up to John asking him what they should do. To the crowds he says that if they have two cloaks they should give one away, and if they have extra food they should give the food away too (is this a bad time to make a plug for our food pantry?).

When the tax collectors ask he tells them to collect no more than what is prescribed. Back in those days there was no IRS, kings would hire out their tax collection. And people who collected taxes were seen as unsavory, because everyone expected they were demanding more than necessary and skimming off the top. John tells them they don’t need to give up their jobs, but they ought to be honest in it. 

Then the soldiers arrive and ask what they should do. John doesn’t tell them they need to give up their jobs either, but they are not to extort anyone with threats, but be content with their wages. The soldiers are not likely Roman soldiers, but soldiers of Herod. And if Herod had a bad reputation so did his soldiers. 

I notice a pattern here in what John demands of those repenting. There is a common thread to the fruit everyone is expected to show. John is not expecting that those who repent flee their jobs and responsibilities. There were some who would say that, the Essenes for instance were a sect of Jews back in those days who did say everyone should run off into the desert with them and wait for the end of days. John tells them they can stay right there and live their lives. But they are supposed to live their lives justly. 

Giving our excess to others is an act of justice. It’s giving people what is due to them. Everyone deserves to be clothed, everyone deserves to be fed. And if we have extra resources we ought to help our neighbors who are in need. Tax Collectors collecting no more than prescribed are acting honestly and going about their jobs in justice. Not taking what does not belong to them. Same goes for the soldiers. They are expected to act with justice, content in their wages, not extorting from others.

What does it mean to bear fruits worthy of repentance then? It means to anticipate life in the Kingdom of God by living with justice now. If, by justice we mean giving people what is due to them. Justice as a verb, not as a noun. Justice that is within our own ability. If we have wronged others, we seek to put it right. If we have stolen, we return. If we have lied, we tell the truth. If we have hurt, we seek to make amends. These are the fruits worthy of repentance. And it is with such fruits that we adorn the house as we clean. These fruits are our ornaments, our ivy and our holly, our lights, our elf on a shelf. By repentance and the fruit of repentance we prepare a place for the Lord, who may lodge in our hearts.

Our Christmas Guest: Itinerary

Our Christmas Guest: Itinerary

Here for Everyone

Luke 3:1-6

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. December 5th, 2021

John the Baptist was a strange man. But then again, all of God’s prophets seem to be strange people. He was the son of Zechariah, one of the priests who served the Temple. But after he is born the first thing we are told about him is that he was out in the wilderness. Strange man that. Other gospel writers tell us he wore camel’s fur and subsisted on a diet of locusts and wild honey. Jesus will say that those who went to see John the Baptist preach didn’t go to see a reed swayed by the wind, a man dressed in fine clothing, but they went to see a prophet. And that’s what he was. A man possessed by the word of God, a man who preached fire. He was, as we hear this morning, a voice crying out in the wilderness. Prepare the way of the Lord.

John the Baptist is the forerunner of Jesus, who is sent to prepare the hearts and minds of the people of Israel for his coming. He is the herald of advent. The divine RSVP. Jesus is coming. The Kingdom is near. Prepare yourselves.

But if John the Baptist is the divine RSPV, where is that RSVP being sent? If he is the herald of Christ’s arrival, where is Christ arriving? Who is this message for? Who’s heart is to be prepared? To whom has salvation come?

We, in fact, get two answers in our scriptures this morning. So it is worth sorting this out.

Our responsive reading is Zechariah’s song, the Benedictus. After John was born Zechariah’s lips were loosed and his burst out in song. That divinely inspired song tells us about God’s plan, and John’s role in it. He sings, “Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for he has looked favorably on his people and redeemed them.” Zechariah, priest of Israel, understands God’s advent as the redemption of the people of Israel. Jesus is a mighty horn of salvation, spoken of by prophets of old, who will defeat the enemies of Israel so they are free to worship without fear. This is God’s mercy to Israel, as was promised to their ancestors. 

John is sent to be a prophet of God, to prepare the people of God for salvation by the forgiveness of their sins. In other words, John’s preaching and baptism will prepare the way for Jesus’ own preaching. He will till the soil, make straight God’s paths. But his preaching is to the people of Israel, and God’s activity is on behalf of the people of Israel.

The gospel reading gives us a different perspective, even though it’s from the same gospel! Here Luke quotes from Isaiah and says, “The voice of one crying out in the wilderness: 'Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight. Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth; and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.’" Luke expressly tells us that the word John was sent to proclaim is not only for one nation, but it concerns a salvation that will be seen by all flesh.

So which is it? Does John preach “knowledge of salvation to God’s people for the forgiveness of their sins?” Or does John preach that “all flesh shall see the salvation of God? Who is on God’s itinerary? Who is Jesus coming to visit? Is Jesus visiting some? Is Jesus visiting all?

The answer is both. 

God brings salvation to Israel, and their salvation is the salvation of the world. God fulfills his promise to Abraham, to bless him and make him a blessing. God fulfills his promise through the prophets, to reign in Jerusalem and bring  peace. God fulfills his promise to bring about the forgiveness of sins and the new heaven and new earth. God fulfills his promise to send us his Son. And in fulfilling those promises to Israel God’s salvation overflows to all. The salvation of Israel is the salvation of the world. And we are made part of that salvation.

So, then, the message of John is a message (in the words of Paul) to the Jew first and also to the greek. It is a message for all who would hear. It is a message even for us today. Especially for us today in this Advent season. Repent. Prepare the way of the Lord. Change your ways. Clean your hearts. Tidy up your house. Be ready for the Lord’s coming. 

For indeed he is coming. He is coming soon. And we await that coming in great joy. The fulfillment of God’s promises to Israel. The fulfillment of God’s promises to us. The salvation that is meant for all. For all who hear the call to repellence. To all who turn from sin and death. And “by the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace."

Our Christmas Guest: Watching

Our Christmas Guest: Watching

Advent is the Season of Waiting

Luke 21:25-36

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. November 28th, 2021

As we are just wrapping up the month of November I feel the need to speak prophetically into our nation’s perpetual Culture Wars. I don’t like to involve myself in the culture war lightly. I know that there are firmly held convictions from all camps, that we can get a little hot headed, and any intervention has to be carefully planned and from a pastoral heart. But I can’t help it, I must open my mouth. I can’t hold it in any longer. I need to speak out against the War on Advent.

I was in Meijer just a few days after Halloween, we hadn’t even gotten to Thanksgiving yet, and they were already putting the Christmas aisle together. I saw Christmas trees up a week after Halloween.   

The Hallmark Channel started playing their Christmas movies before Halloween.  They need to start that early because they have produced forty one movies for this year alone, not counting movies from previous years.  Someone needs to remind Hallmark executives that there are twelve days of Christmas.  

Every year Christmas music and Christmas specials start earlier and earlier.  Every year we stray further and further from God’s light.

I am only half joking.

We have a strong desire to race to Christmas, and stores have a strong desire to make the Christmas shopping season last as long as possible. But if we move too quickly to Christmas, we will skip over Advent which is a beautiful season in its own right. In fact, it is perhaps my favorite season. I adore the lighting of candles, the pondering over the word, the hushed yearning and anxious anticipation.  

Advent also has a deeper spiritual significance because Advent is the season of our age. Advent is a season about our waiting, our yearning, our standing at attention. It is the season where we prepare ourselves and our house to receive the Christ child. And we need to learn how to wait.

This morning Jesus counsels his disciples to wait for his return, to wait for his arrival, to wait for Christmas.  

Jesus’ teaching comes toward the end of Luke’s Gospel, as he and his disciples are walking among the Temple in Jerusalem. His disciples had been marveling at the Temple and its stones, but Jesus warned them that the Temple was soon to be destroyed. This sparked a teaching on the end of the age, and the return of Jesus. In the passage we heard Jesus talks about what must take place before Christ returns. He uses imagery from throughout the Old Testament, imagery like signs in the sun and moon and stars, people fainting in fear, distress of nations. This imagery points to the undoing of the present order of things, the end of this present age before the birth of a new. When this happens we are not supposed to fear, but to take courage and raise our heads, because it is a sign that Christ is about to return, and our redemption, our vindication, is near.

In the meantime, we are told, “watch yourselves lest your hearts be weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the cares of this life, and that day come upon you suddenly like a trap.”

Jesus is coming, and he is coming soon. Though his coming is delayed from our perspective, he does not tarry, and he will surely return. We are to live each day expecting his arrival, prepared to receive the King.

When I know I’m about to have a guest, I immediately get to work. I clean the kitchen, I prepare the guest room, I sweep the floors, vacuum the carpet, I set my books back in their proper place (those books have an unfortunate tendency to migrate), I make sure we have ample food in the house, and all the while I look out my window waiting to see if the guest has yet to arrive, if I still have some more time. I’m sure you all know some of the hustle and bustle that goes on upon receiving a guest, perhaps you’ll be doing that soon as Christmas nears.

It is no different for the return of Jesus, our Christmas guest. We do not know when he will return. But we do know that he expects us to be ready. He expects a guest room to have been prepared, he expects ample provisions, and he expects us to be awake and alert. 

The opposite of being awake, alert, and ready, is being “weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the cares of life.” The word here translated “dissipation” means, most literally, a hangover. Dissipation is the experience of having wasted ones time and resources, the pain of reckless living. Drunkenness is a momentary pleasure, but it leads to dissipation, and loss of memory, loss of control. A lack of sense. Lives of dissipation and drunkenness are lives of faithlessness. That is to say, lives that are determined by business as usual in the world’s terms, not in terms of faithful living as Jesus would have us live. The foolish rich man lived a life of dissipation when, having gained a tremendous harvest built two barns only to discover his life was required of him that night. The rich man, who ignored Lazarus at his gate lived a life of dissipation and drunkenness because he ignored Lazarus’ plight.  But the Good Samaritan made right use of his resources, and of his time. Unlike the Priest and Levite, he was alert and aware, and cared for the man who was beside the road, made a place for him in his life. He, in other words, took the time to care for his Christmas guest.

This Advent we are called to prepare a place for Jesus, to make room for the one who was born in a manger. The first step in making room, in preparing a place for him, is alertness. Resolving not to live like business as usual, but to live knowing that at any moment Christ may call us, at any moment Christ may return to us, so living that we may not be caught drunk, that we may not be caught hungover, or despairing. We must be like the Martin the Cobbler in Leo Tolstoy’s famous short story Where Love is, God is. Martin was promised a divine visitation, and so he set up all day waiting for God to arrive. Instead he entertained a neighbor shoveling snow with warm food and the gospel, clothed a young woman stuck out in the cold, and resolved a dispute between a young man and an older woman. That night, he wondered why God had not visited him, only to discover that God had visited him in the neighbor, the woman, and the boy. We must be like Martin the Cobbler, that is fully prepared and ready to receive Jesus with joy however we may receive him.

Christ the King

Christ the King

Christ’s Kingdom is Not of This World

John 18:33-37

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. December 5th, 2021

Today is Christ the King Sunday, the last Sunday of the Church year. This particular Sunday may seem stranger than most. We are Americans after all, we have no kings. And saying Jesus is King threatens to get fairly political. If Jesus is King that may mean someone else is not. But we just heard this morning that Jesus Christ is, "the faithful witness, the firstborn of the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth.” This is a truth we can’t simply ignore. Jesus Christ is King of all the earth. He rules over all the kings of the earth. “And made us to be a kingdom, priests serving his God and Father, to him be glory and dominion forever and ever.” What does any of this mean?

The earliest creed of the Church is not the Apostles’ Creed. The earliest creed is simply “Jesus is Lord.” Lordship, rule, sovereignty, is reserved to Jesus alone. He who died and lives forevermore. He who calls us by his grace. This is no small thing. It is central to the good news. It tells us something about the world we live in, but it also tells us something about the life to which we are called.

Our gospel reading this morning gives us an opportunity to explore Christ’s kingship because in it stands a confrontation between Jesus and an earthly ruler. Pontius Pilate was a governor sent from Rome to bring peace to the unruly city of Jerusalem. He was born to a noble family, and this meant he was born to conquer and to rule. His whole upbringing was centered around athletics, military prowess, and politics. He was some of the best Rome had to offer, the very image of the sort of man bred to run an empire. He knew he held the power of life and death and knew how to wield it. 

Across from Pilate stands Jesus, a carpenter’s son from Nazareth. By this point he has been beaten into a mess. He was a pitiful figure bleeding over Pilate’s headquarters. As much as we might imagine Pilate did not want to put up with this man, the local authorities were forcing his hand. It was the Passover, the Jewish feast of liberation. And this man, so they claimed, threatened to upset the fragile peace Pilate had established.

So Pilate asks him, “Are you the King of the Jews?”

Jesus simply responds, "Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?”

Pilate gets a little impatient. "I am not a Jew, am I? Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me. What have you done?”

Jesus then answers the question, "My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here.”

Now here we might think we have an answer to what it means to say Jesus is King. Jesus is a spiritual King. He has a spiritual Kingdom that floats effervescently over reality, and his subjects are those who accept him and his teaching into their hearts. His kingship is not a public thing, but a private thing. But Pilate, as I said, was a man born to rule. He could recognize a king. And responds, “So, you are a king, then?” 

When we hear Jesus say, “My Kingdom is not from this world” we need to ask what Jesus means by world. Because throughout John’s gospel world has a different meaning than simply this rock we call earth. Jesus says in another place “  The world cannot hate you, but it hates me because I testify that its works are evil.” And “fear not, I have overcome the world.” He doesn’t mean “everyone” when he talks about the world. And he doesn’t mean “everything on this rock.” But he means a sphere of existence that is dominated by Satan, by the enemy. Jesus overcomes the world, meaning he overcomes the devil. His kingdom is not of this world not because his Kingdom is spiritual and private. But because his kingdom is not like earthly kingdoms.

He clarifies, “You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.”

Jesus is King, and he is truly ruler of the Kings of the earth as we heard from the Book of Revelation. But he is not a worldly king, and he is not a king in the sense that Pilate ruled as a King. Pilate ruled by force. Jesus rules in love. Pilate ruled with fear. Jesus rules in peace. Pilate did not care what was true or false, only what he could accomplish. Jesus rules in truth, and all who listen to the truth listen to his voice.

Pilate rules with armies of soldiers, with centurions ready to go on the attack. Jesus rules not with armies but from his cross. It’s on his cross that he is given a crown, of thorns. Is given a robe. Is given a throne, the very cross on which he is nailed. And above his head is written in three languages, “Jesus Christ, King of the Jews.” Jesus is truly King. But in a different way than Pilate. Not because he is private and spiritual, but because he is love and forgiveness. 

So if we are those who proclaim “Jesus is Lord” and accept him as the true King over all the Kings of the earth that means that we follow him. We follow him in his teaching, and we follow him in his example. We forgive as he forgave. We give as he gave. We seek to mend what has gone wrong. We seek to live peaceably with all. We hope beyond hope. We share love with all who come across our path. Because Jesus is our King, and that is what subjects of the King are expected to do. And we can do these things not simply on our own power, but because Jesus has “overcome the world.” Because Jesus has won the victory on our behalf. Because he has shown us the way. And he lives, and reigns forever. There is no stronghold he cannot tear down. There is no force that can stand in his way. He has shown us the way of life and peace. And beckons us to follow. 

So let us follow our king.

Hope: Presumption

Hope: Presumption

Hope in What We Do Not See

1 Samuel 1:4-20

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. November 14th, 2021

Hannah was a woman with no future. She was the beloved wife of Elkanah. She received the double portion of the sacrifice. But unlike Elkanah’s other wife Peninnah the Lord had closed her womb. And, in those days, that was a matter of shame. She longed to have a child of her own, a son to carry on the family lineage. That is, that she would have a future.

Eli was the priest at Shiloh. In those days the Ark of the Covenant was placed at the shrine at Shiloh. It was Eli’s duty to perform the appropriate rites and sacrifices. He was a man of high honor because of this service. He also appeared to have a future. Two sons who would succeed him when he died. The line that began in Aaron the first priest would continue through Eli and his sons. 

This is the story of a woman without a future, and a man with a future. And how faith and hope make all the difference.

Hannah’s husband Elkanah would go to Shiloh once a year to offer sacrifice. It was on one of these journeys that Hannah approached the Tabernacle and prayed before the Lord. She was deeply distressed and weeping bitterly. She so longed to have a child of her own she prayed, “O LORD of hosts, if only you will look on the misery of your servant, and remember me, and not forget your servant, but will give to your servant a male child, then I will set him before you as a nazirite until the day of his death. He shall drink neither wine nor intoxicants, and no razor shall touch his head.” A nazirite was a vow that a man could take in different circumstances. Say when they’re going off to battle, or preparing for some great task. To offer up a child to live as a nazirite was a different matter, it was not a vow someone took on for life. She so longed to have a son that she was offering to give him up to the Lord in the most extreme way.

While she was praying and weeping Eli saw her. Her mouth moved but no sound came out. He did not recognize a woman in earnest and serious prayer. He mistook her for being drunk. (Not the last time godly women and men would be mistaken for drunkenness when they are in prayer). Eli, the great priest, the man with the past and the man with the future, cannot recognize a woman at prayer. How odd! But very telling. 

He says, "How long will you make a drunken spectacle of yourself? Put away your wine.”

Hannah replies, “"No, my lord, I am a woman deeply troubled; I have drunk neither wine nor strong drink, but I have been pouring out my soul before the LORD.  Do not regard your servant as a worthless woman, for I have been speaking out of my great anxiety and vexation all this time.”

Eli lets her go with a blessing. And Hannah left with her distress dissipated.

Hannah, we are told, would conceive and bear a son. A son named Samuel, who she gave up to live at Shiloh and serve with Eli. The woman who was childless bore a son. The woman who feared she had no future had her hope fulfilled. “The bows of the mighty are broken, but the feeble gird on strength.” She sings.

But that is only half of our story. The other half concerns Eli.

Eli, the priest who mistook prayer for drunkenness had two sons, and they were poor priests. They would take the choice portions of the sacrifice and keep them for themselves. They would even threaten to take them by force. In this way they took what belonged to God and kept it for themselves. God chose to take their future away from them. And he cut off that priestly line. Though they were born in privilege and expected to have a future because of it, God took it away. The line of Levi would be given to someone else.

Here we learn something very important about hope. Hope as a virtue belongs to those who live their life on the way. We all await a future. Sometimes that future is easier to see. Other times that future is harder to see. But in either case the future is not our own. It is a gift of God. Hope is how we live in expectation for that future, no matter how bad things may seem. Knowing we are not there yet, knowing God has made promises. 

Hannah is in dire straits. It is easy for her, as it was for Naomi, as it was for Mary and Martha, to simply give up. To give in to her despair. To say “the future I thought I’d have, God has taken away from me.” But instead she perseveres. Trusting in God’s promises and grace. She asks, and she receives. She hopes beyond hope, and she finds. Eli’s sons, on the other hand, assume they’ve already made it. They presume upon God’s grace and take whatever they want. They do not hope, they presume. And because they have failed to hope in the promises of God, God revokes those promises.

So too for us today. Hope is a gift of God. By hope we do not give into despair, assuming God will not fulfill the promise of salvation, that God will not give us life. But also by hope we do not assume we have already made it. That we do not need God. That we are not, in every day, in every way, dependent on God and his grace. Jesus said he did not come to save the righteous but sinners. When he said that he warned us about the dangers of presumption. He called us to cleave in hope.

So let us cleave in hope. Knowing no matter how dark the future may seem, no matter how absent the future may appear to be, God fulfills his promises. And no matter how good things may seem, no matter how we feel we have done well, God promises ever more than we can imagine.

Hope: Ruth

Hope: Ruth

God Provides a Future

Ruth 3:1-5, 4:13-17

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. November 7th, 2021

Naomi was a woman without a future. When the famine hit, she and her husband Elimelech left Bethlehem for greener pastures in Moab, a gentile region. There her two sons married Moabite women.  Though they lived as strangers in Moab, things were well. Until Elimelech died. And then both of Naomi’s sons in law also passed away. She was left with two daughters in law, relatives by marriage, Orpah and Ruth.

When she heard that God had blessed Bethlehem with good harvests again, she set out to return. On her way back she stopped and told Ruth and Orpah to return to their mothers house, that God might bless them there as they had blessed her. Orpah obeys. Ruth refuses. Ruth famously says, “Where you go I will go, and where you lodge I will lodge, your people shall be my people, and your God my God; where you die I will die, and there will I be buried. May the LORD do so to me and more also if even death parts me from you.” Well, who is going to say no to that?

So Naomi returns to Bethlehem with Ruth by her side. Two women without a future. Naomi tells the women of Bethlehem that her name is no longer “Naomi.” She wants to be called Mara. Mara means bitter. She is Bitter because “the Lord has dealt very bitterly with me. I went away fill, and the LORD has brought me back empty. Why call me Naomi, when the LORD has afflicted me and the Almighty has brought calamity upon me?” 

In those days a woman’s place in society was secured by the man to which they belonged. Without “belonging” to a man they had no standing. A young woman belonged to her father and his family. A married woman belonged to her husband and his family. A widow was in a very precarious situation. If no one in the broader family would take her in, she might have no one to protect or care for her. She might be left totally vulnerable. This is why the early Church put so much emphasis on caring for the orphan and the widow. Orphans and widows have no one to care for them. But the Church could be their family.

So this is Naomi’s sad state: her husband is dead as are her sons. All who remains with her is a foreigner, Ruth, whose situation is also precarious. Will she be accepted as a member of Israel? Can she find someone to take her in? Is there a future for Ruth and Naomi in Bethlehem? Or is there no future for them at all? Are they left to struggle to get by?

The was also a law in those days that allowed the resident alien and poor to glean the fields after the harvest. So Naomi sent Ruth to go out and glean for them that they might have something to eat. While she was out in the field a man by the name of Boaz noticed her. Remarkably he took Ruth under his wing, told her to follow the harvesters directly, to not to go any other field, and that he would do all he could to protect her and make sure she was well supplied. When Ruth went home with more than enough food and told Naomi what had happened, Naomi explained to Ruth that Boaz was a member of the family. He could be the one to take them in. He could be their kindred redeemer.

That is what brings us to today’s reading. Naomi sees the possibility of a future, but it relies on the goodwill of Boaz and the promptings of God. He tells Ruth to enter the threshing floor after he was well satisfied with food and drink. And while he’s asleep, lay down at his feet. And then, explain her situation and ask him to marry her. Remarkably, shockingly, Boaz agrees to that arrangement on the condition that a man with a greater right to redeem her allows for it. Which he does.

Ruth, and Naomi, who at first seemed to have no future, are now given a future. And a remarkable one. Because Ruth and Boaz don’t simply settle down. It’s not just that Naomi has a grandchild in her old age. But that child’s name is Obed. And Obed was the father of Jesse. And Jesse the father of King David. And, as Paul Harvey might say, now you know...the rest of the story.

Naomi and Ruth were women without a future, without a place. It would have been easy for them to give up. Naomi, at one point, sounds like she is there. But their persistence meets God’s providence. If Ruth had given up there would be no Obed. If there were no Obed there would be no David. No David there is no line that leads, ultimately to Jesus. In a very real sense, Jesus is born because Naomi and Ruth have hope. Hope in a future they cannot see. Hope in a future that seems to have been lost. A hope beyond hope. But it is granted to them.

Paul says we do not hope in what we see. Hope in what is seen is not hope. But we hope in what is unseen. That is what makes hope such a gift from God. It is our trust and reliance in God to give us the future that he has promised. Ruth and Naomi are two such people who practice that hope when all else seems lost. A hope God would have for each and every one of us no matter how dark the future might seem.