Leaning Into Our Hope

Bethlehem Lutheran Church, Fergus Falls, MN
Dedication of Rebuilt Organ
April 13, 2008/Easter 4

Philippians 4:8
Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.

When God raised Jesus from the dead on Easter morning, a whole new creation began to dawn upon this tired, old world.

Easter—the resurrection of Jesus—was the down payment, the appetizer, the promissory note, the first fruits of a whole New Creation that even now God is surely bringing about.

Today, right now, even in this very moment…God is making you and me and all things new. In Christ Jesus the risen one, God is setting all things to right. God is unfolding a New World overflowing with light and truth and beauty and goodness.

But, of course, that’s plain to see—isn’t it?

Well, as a matter of fact--no it’s not plain to see.

There are, to be sure, bursts of beauty all around us. The Grand Canyon at dawn, the delicate wings of a monarch butterfly, the experience of compassion or forgiveness, the birth of every child. Beauty surprises us somewhere, somehow, every day.

But alongside all that, in the very next moment, something ugly steals the scene. An x-ray reveals a growing cancer, a crude remark flies through the air, a busload of teenagers flips over on I-94, parents bury their precious teenage daughter.

How do we hold those things together—the bursts of beauty that take our breath away, alongside the instances of ugliness that make us question whether there even is a God?

How do we, as people of Christian faith, hope and love….how do we live in a world that we believe God is renewing day by day….how do we live with the “one step forward, two steps backward” experience of evil’s stubborn unwillingness to surrender?

How do we live on the basis of our highest hopes, rather than our most gnawing fears?

We do that, I believe, by leaning into our hopes, by living every day as if the Final Day, God’s Day, God’s future is already moving in upon us.

Let me say that again, in a slightly different way: we live, as Christian disciples, as if the bursts of beauty all around us aren’t just “flukes” or mere accidents….but as if that beauty will finally be all that is. We live as if the ugliness that meets us now and then, has no future really—as if its day is surely passing—as if God in Christ will finally be all in all.

In short: we live as if what’s worth thinking about, what’s worth focusing on, what’s worth investing ourselves in are the good and true and beautiful things of God alone.

The apostle Paul, writing to beleaguered believers in ancient Philippi, writing to them from a jail cell no less, saw beyond all the dire circumstances that surrounded them and audaciously invited them to live in this way: Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.

The gutter, and life in the gutter, might seem like your destiny….but now in Christ, your destiny lies somewhere else, in Someone Else. Get up out of the gutter and live in the freedom of the sons and daughters of Christ, your King.

But how, just exactly how, does that work? What precisely does that look like?

I think of the time about 15 years ago when I and a bunch of other Lutheran pastors all worshipped at Ebenezer Baptist Church in Atlanta, Georgia—the church that Martin Luther King and Daddy King before him both served.

We were quite a bunch—lumpy, pasty, white folk—mostly from the frozen northland. We all had our sport coats on, we wore our hush puppies, we arrived on a bus in various shades of tan…

And we were met by the African American members of Ebenezer Baptist—all of them looking like a million bucks. When Sunday comes, you see, black church folks put on the ritz! The men were all spiffed up in white shirts, bold ties, polished shoes, dark suits with those little white handkerchiefs spilling out of their breast pockets.

And the women—my goodness, the women all looked like queens….all of them in flowing dresses, high-heeled shoes, and bouncing colorful hats. They wore golden jewelry that sparkled in the morning sun and not a few of them sported corsages, the likes of which we see only on prom weekend.

Even the youth, the teenagers who were ushering that day—even they looked like somewhat smaller versions of their extremely well-decked-out-parents….and each of them, each of the kids wore bleached white gloves on their hands as they handed us our bulletins, cheerfully showed us to our seats and then led us in worship that was well-planned, dignified, yet awe-inspiring, especially as they started “cooking” in the way that only African American worshippers can “cook.”

We lump, pasty, white northern Lutheran “spectators” looked and felt like a bunch of schlumps that morning….even though our average income was probably higher than that of most of our fellow worshippers.

How could that be? Someone told me later that it’s like this: in the African American church community, six days out of the week you may be someone’s cook, maid or laundress. Six days out of the week you may clean restrooms, you may work your fingers to the bone, doing stuff that white folk don’t want to do.

But on Sunday, on the Lord’s Day, the first day of the week, you are sons and daughters of the King, children of God—and you best look the part. On Sunday, you lay aside your ragged working clothes and put on your party clothes, you don the garb of your true identity. You live into the future you have in Jesus Christ—you lean into God’s tomorrow and act as though that tomorrow has already come.

That’s a snapshot, a taste of what it means, my fellow lumpy, pasty, white Lutherans of Fergus Falls….that’s a taste of what it means to think about, to focus on, to invest ourselves in the good and true and beautiful things of God.

And, all kidding aside, I’m guessing that that’s how you ARE already living your lives, whether or not it always strikes you that way.

So, you believe, you hope against hope, you trust that Jesus is risen and God is making you and me and all things new. THAT, in Christ, is now your “default position.”

And so you act on that hope, as well. You give yourselves to God’s global mission of rescue and renewal. You tell others about Jesus. You live the Jesus life, serving the lowly, giving yourselves to the poor.

And so that your believing and your acting might be more than mindless “activism,” so that it might have a basis that is constantly renewed in God’s hope, you worship, regularly, joyfully, lavishly—giving of your best to stake out space and time today that leans into God’s tomorrow.

Which brings me, finally, to this wonderful rebuilt organ, these fine pianos and other musical instruments and equipment that we are dedicating this morning.

Why do this? Of all the things you could invest yourselves in, why spend good money on a church organ, on pianos, on worship equipment? Why is that a priority for us?

It is, I think, because part of God’s mission among us is to create loveliness, to bring forth music that soars, to add to the bursts of beauty that God already sends our way.

Indeed, the loveliness, the beauty, the harmony God co-creates through us beats back the ugliness of this old world that surely is giving way to God’s New Creation.

The loveliness, the beauty, the harmony God co-creates through us….makes space and time for us to live now, with one foot already in God’s future. It allows us to live now on the basis of the new life that awaits us in Christ Jesus the risen one…as surely as we also do that when we tell others about Jesus, when we care for the poor, and when we strive for justice and peace in all the earth.

Worshiping God in the beauty of holiness might seem “worthless”—surely not worth all that we put into it, all that we invest in it. When we end our worship service—we may not have filled one hungry stomach, we may not have converted one sinner to Christ, we may not have reclaimed one young adult for God’s mission. Worship may seem, in that sense, “worthless.”

Except that worship always has value, in and of itself. For it lifts up God who is the Treasure of priceless worth….and worship lifts us up to this Beautiful Savior, our Lord Jesus. And if nothing else seems to have changed when our worship is ended, well then WE have changed, once more, changed “from glory to glory” as the old hymn puts it.
We give God our very best in worship, we invest in things like organs and pianos and “worship equipment,” simply because God the object of our worship, is worth our highest and our best.

It is because Paul enjoined us all when he lovingly commanded the Philippian disciples: Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.

Hanging Out With Skeptics

Bethel and Zion Lutheran Churches, Bagley, MN
April 6, 2008
Easter 3/Luke 24:13-35

In the name of Jesus. Amen.

One of the things that the four gospels all agree on is that when Jesus was raised from the dead on Easter morning, he didn’t stay put.

No, when Jesus was resurrected, he was up and out and on the road. And he didn’t just trot a victory lap around the cemetery, either. No--Jesus took off. With death behind him and nothing but life—nothing but God’s future—ahead, Jesus was running in the power of his resurrection.

And what’s even better is this: Jesus doesn’t run alone—He runs with us—Jesus leads a whole pack of folks who have been caught up by God in the power of the resurrection.

What exactly does this Resurrection Road Race looks like, though? What is this post-Easter marathon Jesus is running, with you and me in tow, trying to keep up? What is this race all about?

This morning’s gospel fleshes that out, suggesting at least four ways that connect powerfully with God’s mission for us.

1. First, in this Resurrection Road Race, Jesus hangs out with seekers and searchers. He goes looking for doubters, walks with the confused, takes time to listen to skeptics.

I love how this Emmaus road story begins. It starts with two bewildered disciples, “getting out of Dodge,” leaving Jerusalem to travel to nearby Emmaus—trying to figure out all the things that had happened to Jesus in the preceding week.

And as they walk, a stranger falls into step with them, asking questions, listening to what they have to say—hearing them, really hearing them—not just the words they speak but the deep emotions that surround those words.

Imagine that. Jesus who knows better than anyone how the story ends—Jesus doesn’t just blurt out what he knows. Jesus doesn’t “butt in” and take over the conversation right away. No: he walks, he asks questions, he listens FIRST.

I think that’s why more and more congregations are seeing themselves as places where doubters can get their doubts out in the open. As we run with our Risen Lord, we don’t shy away from skeptics or seekers. Indeed—we treasure them, we make room for them, we open up safe spaces for them to scratch the itch that stands between them and faith.

2. Second, as Jesus runs with us and ahead of us in the power of the Resurrection, he is always cracking open the Scriptures. The risen Lord Jesus leads Bible study! Jesus looks back (to the Old Testament) to interpret current events and to point to God’s future. You could say that Jesus points “back to the future.”

When Jesus, the stranger on the road to Emmaus, has listened for a good long while, he speaks—but not on his own authority. Rather, our gospel lesson says that “beginning with Moses and all the prophets, [Jesus] interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.“

Along the Resurrection Road-Race we also follow Jesus “back to the future,” taking our cues from the Scriptures, drenching ourselves in the world of the Bible, developing among ourselves a kind of fluency in “Biblese” as if it were our first language.

Our church, the ELCA, is involved in something called the Book of Faith initiative. Its goal is very simple: to get us all reading the Bible, every day, for our strengthening in Christian faith, life and witness. For the next five years you’ll be hearing about all sorts of ways you can become “fluent” in the first language of faith, the language of the Bible.

3. Third, just as he did before his crucifixion, burial and resurrection….the Risen Jesus lets his actions do the talking for him. This is a nice counter-point to leading Bible study which, important as that is, always runs the risk of becoming a “head trip.”

So, in addition to cracking open the scriptures for them, the Risen Jesus grants the two disciples, after they arrive in Emmaus, an experience of his real presence. When evening comes “[Jesus] took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him…”

Jesus speaks the Word—but he also re-enacts the Word, he does the Word! Jesus utters truth, but he also grabs visual aids that were handy—a loaf of bread, a cup of wine. Jesus communicates both symbolically and concretely—wedding syllables to elements, message to means, word to sacrament.

We Lutheran disciples believe that the preached Word is best accompanied by actions, experiences that bring Christ home to our hearts. So we regularly wash babies, children and adults in baptismal water. And we routinely fall to our knees (as we shall do this morning) to eat the Bread and drink the Wine, to “take in” Jesus our risen Lord.

4. Fourth, as a result of rubbing elbows with Jesus, people are changed. Jesus never leaves folks the same way he found them. Persons don’t stay “onlookers” or “inquirers.” Jesus runs the race in such a way that others can’t help but be caught up in the excitement—they strap on their own running shoes and get moving, moving with Jesus.

Even though darkness has fallen and Cleopas and the other disciple were ready to turn in for the night—even though the road between Emmaus and Jerusalem (like most roads through open country back then) was hardly safe—they cannot contain themselves. Once Jesus was revealed to them—they set aside all ideas of hitting the hay! Rather, they put their traveling clothes back on, tie on their sandals and run all the way back into Jerusalem yet that evening—because they have been altered, changed—they aren’t the same “Sad Sacks” they were earlier in the day.

So also, we today expect Jesus never to leave folks the same way he found them. We anticipate that Jesus will matter in our lives. We expect change, transformation, and yes, even growth in God’s grace.

So—that’s what the Easter season marathon—that’s what the Resurrection Road Race looks like. It’s not “holy smoke” or “smoke and mirrors.” This race has a shape, a content, a direction, an itinerary to it. As Jesus the Risen One catches us up in running with him, he leads you and me
To hang out with skeptics and doubters
To go back to the future by cracking open our Bibles
To do the Word in Baptism and the Lord’s Supper and
To expect change and transformation as God goes to work in our lives and the lives of others who have gotten caught up in Jesus’ Resurrection Road Race.

So--have a good run!

In the name of Jesus. Amen.

ELCA Draft Statement on Sexuality...Letter to the NW MN Synod

March 13, 2008

Dear Sisters and Brothers of the NW MN Synod:

God’s grace, mercy and peace be with you all. Today marks the release of a Draft Social Statement on Human Sexuality by our Evangelical Lutheran Church in America. Folks across our church have awaited this day with anxiety, hope and curiosity.

During our just-concluded Conference of Bishops meeting in California March 6-11, I received an advance copy of the draft. I was grateful that it seemed to contain no bombshells that could easily be “spun” by journalists into sensationalized headlines. I appreciated the draft’s attention to the scriptures and the Lutheran Confessions, its advocacy for traditional marriage, its emphasis on trust as foundational in our social relationships, and its honesty in stating that “this church does not have consensus regarding loving and committed same-gender relationships” (lines 1116-1118). I found in this draft a statement worthy of our study, discussion and response.

And that, dear friends, is what I hope you will now do: prayerfully study, thoughtfully discuss and carefully respond to this draft. Remember that this is only a DRAFT social statement; it does not represent ELCA policy. It reflects the best thinking to date of the Task Force for ELCA Studies on Sexuality, though not all task force members agree with all aspects of this draft. We can expect that our input may alter the face of this document—probably considerably. (The Conference of Bishops was reminded that about one third of the contents of our social statement on education changed between its release in draft form and the subsequent proposed statement that was approved in 2007.)

So I invite you to pay attention to this draft, as individuals and congregations. Please remember the November 1, 2008 deadline for sending responses to the task force. Our synod will schedule at least one public forum (a.k.a. “hearing” in the language used by our churchwide partners) on this draft, sometime before October—please watch for more details on that.

The outcome of our work with the draft will be the release of a proposed social statement on human sexuality in February of 2009, for consideration at the 2009 Churchwide Assembly, August 17-23, in Minneapolis. We will also want to pay close attention to the implementing resolutions that will accompany the proposed social statement—some of which may “address….changes to any policies that preclude practicing homosexual persons from the rosters of this church” (as the task force was directed to do by the 2007 Churchwide Assembly).

May the God of all creation—who has bestowed upon us the gift of sexuality—guide, bless and direct us in all things. And in these days of Lent and Holy Week may you be transformed once again by the proclamation of the death and resurrection of our Lord.

In Christ,
Lawrence R. Wohlrabe
Bishop, Northwestern Minnesota Synod ELCA

Blind No More

Lent 4, March 2, 2008
John 9:1-41
Zion Lutheran Church, Twin Valley, MN

In the name of Jesus. Amen.

“I once was lost, but now am found;
Was blind, but now I see.”

These lines, from our favorite American hymn, Amazing Grace, were penned by an Englishman, John Newton in 1748. The hymn summed up his own transformational encounter with Jesus Christ—an encounter that led him from being a slave trader to becoming an abolitionist.

I once was lost, but now am found;
Was blind, but now I see.”

These words are a kind of shorthand for the experience of conversion….a model for how most folks speak about the work of Jesus Christ in their lives.

I was lost--messed up--a goner. But Jesus found me, rescued me, saved me.

I was blind--stumbling in the dark--totally clueless. But Jesus opened my eyes, shone his light on my path, made me see what I’d been missing.

Lost and blind….now found and seeing. That’s how it is (right?) when Jesus walks into our lives.

Or is it? The blind man here in John 9 might put it this way: “It’s more of a mixed bag really. Jesus brings a lot of good, but he also messes things up. Jesus gums up life for those he transforms. When Jesus has his way with you, nothing will be the same again.”

It’s more than just moving from “lost and blind” to “found and seeing.” It’s wider, deeper, more complex than that. Jesus brings light where he goes. But light isn’t what everyone wants.

Jesus opens eyes, but sometimes we’d rather keep our eyes tightly shut. There are all sorts of blindness. And, as Jesus heals each kind of blindness, some still can’t see—can’t see because they won’t see.

This story from John 9 points out all sorts of things that lead to blindness.

First, there is the blindness of the eye. That’s all this man had ever known. He was “born blind.” Imagine that—imagine NEVER having seen a sunrise or a sunset.

Blindness had immobilized this man. He sat alongside a road, waiting for the generosity of folks who had places to go, things to see.

Unlike other blind beggars we read about in the gospels, this man asks nothing of Jesus. But Jesus gives him everything—everything he ever wanted. Making a poultice for his eyes, Jesus sent the blind man to wash in the healing pool of Siloam. And after that, the man could see. Simple as that. He once was blind—but now he saw. Saw all that he had been missing, all the big, bright, beautiful world that had been “out there” for years.

Jesus makes short work of the blindness of the eye—the physical blindness that had rendered this man’s eyes useless from the day of his birth.

You’d think that that was all this story is about.

But physical blindness is the least serious form of blindness here in this story. And, ironically, just as the blind man’s physical eyes are opened for the first time in his life, just about everyone else’s eyes are closed or clouded in some fashion.

There is, for example, the blindness of apathy in this story. Apathy is not noticing things happening right under our noses.

After the blind man’s sight is restored, it becomes apparent that others around him—the ones who are sighted—actually haven’t been paying that much attention. His neighbors hadn’t really noticed this blind man, though he sat alongside a road they all traveled for years.

The apathy of blindness shows up when passersby are confused. Is that the guy who was born blind—is that him, now up walking around, able to see? Is that him? Or is it someone who looks just like him?

Now who’s blind, I ask you?

Apathy blinds us. A couple of summers ago I took a church youth group to Maine, to the third poorest county in the country. At first glance, you wouldn’t KNOW people were so poor. We had to get off the beaten track, turn off the highway in order to meet fellows like John, an old bachelor whose house desperately needed a coat of paint. We had to slow down, stop, really open our eyes to notice John and others like him.

Apathy blinds us. Folks’ faces might even seem familiar to us—but do we know them? Have we seen them so often that they no longer make an impression on us? Have we grown so accustomed to poverty, blindness, desperation—that we shut out the images of their faces—those who are lacking in our midst?

But apathy isn’t the only thing that blinds us. There is also fear.

Here in John 9 it’s the parents of the formerly-blind man who reflect the blindness that fear can bring upon us. When the local religious leaders question them sternly, the man’s parents adopt a “see no evil/hear no evil/speak no evil” stance. They’re willing to identify their son and to attest that he was blind from birth. But they plead ignorance on the question of how his sight had been restored?

Why? Our text says it was fear that blinded the man’s parents—fear that if they told what I suspect they knew (about the manner and the Agent of their son’s healing!)—the fear that they’d be ousted from their faith community, shunned by the religious gatekeepers.

Fear blinds us, too. Fear cuts us off from possibilities and creativity and imagination. If we’re paralyzed by the possibility that we might make some mistake—why then we’ll never try anything. We’ll let ourselves become stuck in fear, blinded by our anxieties.

But even these two forms of blindness—the blindness of apathy and the blindness of fear—even these two forms of blindness aren’t as serious as a third kind of blindness.

This is the blindness of resistance—resistance to the surprising will and the unexpected working of God in our lives. The blindness of having God so securely boxed in that God couldn’t possibly act in a new, refreshing way.

Here in this gospel text, this is the fiercest, most awful blindness. There is none so blind as the one who WILL not see. The Jewish leaders, the Pharisees in our story have this most severe form of blindness.

You’d think they would rejoice in the healing of the blind man. But no! The Pharisees are so rule-bound that they focus, rather, on the fact that Jesus had broken the law—doing the work of healing on a day reserved strictly for rest.

So, everyone else in the story sees Jesus as a healer. But the Jewish leaders, the Pharisees can see Jesus only as a Sabbath-breaker, a law-breaker.

And if anyone disagrees with them—they will excommunicate him, as indeed they boot the formerly-blind man out of their synagogue. That’s what happens when Jesus walks into our lives—he throws everything into a tizzy, turns things upside down, messes everything up.

All because it is Jesus’ work, Jesus’ assignment, Jesus’ mission to open blind eyes….eyes blinded by physical defect, apathy, fear or the spirit of stubborn resistance. Whatever has robbed you of your sight—Jesus means to take care of that, to heal your blindness.

At the end of this story we’re only sure that two of the characters in it see clearly, with 20/20 vision. Jesus, of course, is one of them. And the man born blind is the other.

At the end of the story Jesus has this man right where he wants him: praising God, down on his knees, worshipping the One who healed him.

The man born blind “sees” better than everyone else—he is no longer held back by the blindness of the eye.

Nor is he paralyzed by the blindness of apathy—for he alone “notices” Jesus and responds appropriately to him—in worship.

This man is not cowed by the blindness of fear either—for it’s apparent he can’t keep his mouth shut the way his parents did.

And he is not captive to the blindness of resistance—for he alone “gets it”—that Jesus is who he says he is, the man in whom God is making all things new.

Where the formerly blind man ends up (on his knees at Jesus’ feet) is where God intends to bring us and all people--alert, alive, seeing fully in the dazzling light of Christ.

In the name of Jesus. Amen.

Reluctant Witness

Students of rhetoric know that a "reluctant witness" is someone who testifies to a position you wouldn't expect him or her to take. The August 27, 2007 issue of Mother Jones included an article, "Gay by Choice? The Science of Sexual Identity" by psychotherapist Gary Greenberg. It's amazing, really, to read such an article in a "progressive" magazine like Mother Jones (hence my reference to "reluctant witness"). Greenberg seriously entertains the notion that sexual orientation is much more fluid or "plastic" than glbtq activitists are inclined to allow.

Here's a telling section of the article: "...[A]s crucial as this consensus [i.e. that sexual orientation is inborn and immutable] has been to the struggle for gay rights, it may not be as sound as some might wish. While scientists have found intriguing biological differences between gay and straight people, the evidence so far stops well short of proving that we are born with a sexual orientation that we will have for life. Even more important, some research shows that sexual orientation is more fluid than we have come to think, that people, especially women, can and do move across customary sexual orientation boundaries, that there are ex-straights as well as ex-gays. Much of this research has stayed below the radar of the culture warriors, but reparative therapists are hoping to use it to enter the scientific mainstream and advocate for what they call the right of self-determination in matters of sexual orientation. If they are successful, gay activists may soon find themselves scrambling to make sense of a new scientific and political landscape."

The whole article is worth reading. Please note: Greenberg seems highly supportive of glbtq folks and not all that appreciative of religious arguments about homosexuality, which makes his conclusions all the more striking.

For the full article: http://www.motherjones.com/news/feature/2007/09/gay-by-choice.html

Sensory Overload

New Life Lutheran Church, Rothsay, MN
Installation of Pr. Paul Huso
Sunday of the Transfiguration Sunday
February 3, 2008
Matthew 17:1-9


Ever since I took office as bishop last September, folks have been asking me: “So, how’s it going, then?”

Most of the time I say: “It’s going great—but it sure is intense. Sort of like drinking out of a fire hydrant. Stuff really comes at you. Often it feels like ‘sensory overload.’”

Sensory overload!

You know what I’m talking about—don’t you? It happens to all of us, now and then. So much comes at us—sight and sound and experience—that it overwhelms us. We just can’t take it all in. Our mental circuits get “fried.”

I think that Peter, James and John are afflicted by sensory overload here in Matthew 17. And can you blame them?

First, Jesus isolates the three of them, away from his other nine disciples. They climb a high mountain—up to where the air is thin, making them a little light-headed. And then, suddenly, Jesus is “all lit up”—his face shining, his clothes dazzling white. Peter, James and John shield their eyes—so intense is the brightness of it all.

That would have been enough to bring on sensory overload—but there was more. All at once they realize that Moses and Elijah, two of the greatest figures of the Old Testament, were there with Jesus on the mountain. Astounding!

And then a cloud, much like the cloud that led the ancient Israelites through the Wilderness of Sinai—a cloud overshadows them and a Voice—clearly the Voice of God--speaks to them.

Whoa! Sensory overload!

No wonder these three disciples are befuddled, beside themselves. No wonder Peter doesn’t know quite what to say. No wonder Peter, James, and John fall down on the ground—trembling, overcome by fear. Sensory overload will do that to you—turn you into a babbling fool.

Their mental and spiritual circuits were fried. Peter, James and John suffered from sensory overload. It’s a wonder they remembered anything that happened up there.

One of the things sensory overload does is to make us lose our focus. It’s harder to concentrate. We lose sight of what matters most, what we really ought not miss.

There are signs here that Peter, James and John were on the verge of doing just that. The sheer experience washed over them—momentarily blurring their vision, losing track of what was at the heart of it all.

Peter imagines that this wondrous vision is about Moses and Elijah as much as it is about Jesus—he wants to erect not one but three shrines on the mountain. The disciples seem to assume that “this was it”—the capstone, the pinnacle of Jesus’ ministry. What could be more amazing than this transfiguration moment? It wouldn’t get any better than this!

But they were wrong—wrong on all counts.

God the designer of this startling vision of who Jesus was—God didn’t let the three disciples take their eye off the ball. God didn’t allow the focus to be on anyone other than Jesus. Awash in light and dazzling experience—God cut through the sensory overload with his Word: This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased. Listen to him.

God made sure that the experience didn’t overwhelm Jesus’ three disciples. God’s Word brought them back to what and Who was central here: Jesus and him alone--and the death he was soon to embrace. Everything else that was going on--the light, the dazzling garments, the Old Testament heroes--all of that pointed to Jesus.

God cut through the razzle and the dazzle, fixing the disciples’ gaze on Jesus. And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone.

That is, of course, what God is always doing—what God is still up to, even now, today, in the church.

The church’s mission and ministry is all about helping us stay focused on Jesus only.

In the midst of all the razzle and dazzle, the sensory overload that’s always coming at us, God keeps redirecting and refocusing us on Jesus, his Cross, his Resurrection, and his Mission still playing itself out in our world.

That might seem obvious, I know, but think about it for a moment.

Think about all the things that distract us from Jesus.

Take the Superbowl, for example. Talk about sensory overload! The Superbowl is about creative TV ads, a thrilling half-time show, eating and drinking really unhealthy food, placing some bets on what the point spread will be—and, oh!, it’s also about FOOTBALL.

There’s so much hype associated with the SuperBowl that we’re tempted to think it’s sort of a world-turning event. But it’s not. It’s just a game. The SuperBowl can’t save you, give your life meaning, or keep you from dying.

The Super Bowl is not Jesus. So, go and enjoy it—but whatever you do, don’t take it too seriously. It’s only a game…

Think about all the other things that distract us from Jesus.
There’s this presidential campaign we’re in the thick of…

We’re 48 hours away from Super Tuesday, and have you seen enough TV ads yet? Have you decided between the candidate of change and the voice of experience? Have you narrowed it down to the black man, the white woman, the preacher, the Mormon or the war hero? Which will it be?

We really make way too much of politics, don’t we? We treat it like the be-all and the end-all, as if it were a matter of life or death.

But it’s not. Politics is important, and it deserves our sharpest thinking….but it’s not going to determine our ultimate destiny, it doesn’t give us our true worth.

This interminable election season is not Jesus….so let’s lighten up, and encourage others to do the same.

What else distracts us from the Lord of all things?
Think about the good things of this life—our families, our work, our studies, our past-times, our wall-to-wall schedules, our daily engagement in so many things that matter. It can be overwhelming at times. But God finds ways of overshadowing us and speaking to us and saying to us: “The ‘good life’ involves Jesus….listen to him. Don’t miss Jesus.”

Then there’s all the bad things in this life. Think about illness and wayward children and friends going through divorces and loved ones dying. It’s enough to give us a “downer” version of sensory overload. All our circuits get plugged up, fried, by grief, by disappointment, by frustration and failure. But God finds ways of speaking to us, out of our pain, focusing our attention once again on Jesus and Jesus alone.

This is a very good day for us to think about these things. You here at New Life Congregation have come through a months-long process of merging into one congregation. It’s amazing all the steps you’ve taken, all the decisions you’ve made, all the paperwork and forms you’ve filled out. I commend you for sticking with it. I imagine that at times you felt like it was just too much—sensory overload again. But God led you, and I trust, God kept reminding you that when all is said and done it’s about Jesus and him alone. It’s about Jesus’ life, death and resurrection—all of it for you and for me and for the whole creation.

And one more thing. This is what pastors are all about, too. Today as you reaffirm Pastor Paul Huso’s ministry among you, as you celebrate your decision to re-call him to serve this merged congregation, please remember what’s central to his life and work.

It’s about Jesus, it’s about helping you clear the fog of distraction away and cutting through life’s sensory overload and getting refocused again on the one thing needful—seeing Jesus clearly, and keeping Jesus at the heart of all you think and say and do.

That’s what Pastor Huso is good for: speaking Jesus’ Word to you, washing you with Jesus’ water, feeding you with Jesus’ body and blood, filling you with Jesus’ hope, catching you up in Jesus’ mission.

Jesus is for real. He is God for us and God with us. Jesus alone brings new life. Jesus cuts through all the distractions, all the sensory overload. Jesus saves us and sends us and that, dear friends, that is all that finally matters.

In the name of Jesus. Amen.

A Prayer for Every Day

"Grant us, O God, to be mindful now of thy presence, that what we think and say, and all we do, may learn to arrange itself as before thy face. Through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen."

Source: For All the Saints, Volume 1, page 312 (American Lutheran Publicity Bureau, 1996). Taken from Love is a Spendthrift, (c) 1961 by Paul Scherer.