Downward Mobility

Sunday of the Passion/Installation of Pr. Karen Young Trenne

April 17, 2011

Bygland and Fisher Lutheran Churches, Fisher, MN

Philippians 2:5-11

In the name of Jesus. Amen.

This past Tuesday Civil War buffs converged on Charleston, SC to re-enact the attack on Ft. Sumter that marked the start of the War Between the States, 150 years ago on April 12, 1861. No doubt we’ll be learning more during this sesquicentennial year about this tragic chapter in our nation’s history—a civil war that claimed over 1 million lives, including over 600,000 soldiers on both sides.

From our perspective a century-and-a-half later, it all seems like such a terrible waste of life and resources…but in 1861, the brave soldiers who enlisted thought they were making a noble sacrifice—offering up their very lives for a cause they believed in.

Sacrifice.

You and I enjoy the life that is ours because countless others have made sacrifices on our behalf….in wars, in the hard work that built this nation, in the costly investments that others have made, in the multitude of ways our forebears denied themselves so that we might enjoy a life that is full, free, and rich.

Indeed, you and I live every day off the sacrifices of others.

So, it’s interesting—is it not?--that as beneficiaries of such sacrifices, we find it so hard to make sacrifices of our own.

Right now, in our state capital and in Washington, DC, there’s a political donnybrook going on over what sorts of sacrifices folks will need to make in order for us to continue to enjoy the lifestyle we’ve become accustomed to. All of us in America agree that sacrifices need to be made….but our strong preference is that someone else should make these sacrifices.

I like benefiting from the sacrifices of others. I don’t like making sacrifices for the sake of others…..which is just another way of saying that I’m a sinner. I am sinner—and you are too! We are curved in upon ourselves, utterly preoccupied with ourselves—our wants, our needs, our comfort, our security. We may admire the language of “shared sacrifice,” but we’d just as soon see others do the sharing and the sacrificing.

When we’re asked: “Who will step forward to share their wealth, to put themselves at risk?” we stare at our feet, in the hope that someone else will pipe up and say: “I will. I will sacrifice for the sake of my neighbors.”

On this Sunday of the Passion, we embark upon the holiest week of the year. We focus our eyes on Jesus--betrayed, handed over to thugs, convicted in a crooked trial, executed like a common criminal, his lifeless body tossed into a borrowed grave.

This is the week when we recall how Jesus stepped up to say: “I will. I’ll go. I’ll make a sacrifice—indeed, I will BE a sacrifice for the sake of my beloved ones. I will go where no one else wants to go—where no one really CAN go.”

Matthew’s passion story which we just heard is summarized masterfully in our Second Lesson from Philippians chapter 2. Here St Paul quotes a hymn that was already well known by the time he wrote his epistle to the Philippians just after the middle of the first century. Paul starkly, strikingly puts the spotlight on Jesus and his uncanny willingness to do what comes so hard for us: to sacrifice himself, to let go of everything that was rightfully his, so that we might have a second chance at a life we would never deserve.

This astonishing passage depicts, as it were, a scene in the heavenly courts in which God the Father asks the whole company of heaven: “Who will go for us? Who will travel down there and rescue these creatures made in our image? Who will descend from heaven to clean up the mess they’ve made of things?”

In the silence of that celestial gathering, a lone voice speaks up: “I will go,” replies the only beloved Son of the Father. “I will relinquish all that I have, set aside what is by rights mine, empty myself out into the womb of a human mother. I will be born in the usual way, occupy the lowest rung on their social ladder, and hand myself over to death—even death on a cross. Whatever it takes to win their trust, I will do it. I will sacrifice myself for them, because I can’t stop loving them, and I can’t rest until they love me just as freely and just as passionately.”

This amazing descent from heaven, undertaken by the only Son of the Father, for us and our salvation—this is what Holy Week is all about.

And come to think of it, it’s what our whole life of faith is about, as well.

We’re born into a world that simply assumes life is about getting ahead, pulling our own strings, pursuing upward mobility—whatever it takes.

But our Lord Jesus comes along and cuts against the grain, embracing his own wild brand of “downward mobility,” willingly going down for us, down from heaven, down to earth, down to “get” us and make us his own forever.

And when we come under Jesus’ spell, when we find ourselves in Jesus’ power, we start to “reverse course,” and we begin to realize that Jesus’ downward mobility is really what it’s all about.

Jesus invites us to join him in letting go of all the things we thought we had to have.

Jesus draws us into emptying ourselves, divesting ourselves of what we thought we couldn’t live without.

Jesus even woos us into seeing his accursed cross as the royal way, the sovereign means, whereby God has communicated to us, compellingly and convincingly: “I love you with an everlasting, undefeatable love. I love you—and there’s nothing you can do about it!”

Jesus calls us to be people who go down, down to this good earth, down to our neighbors—especially the lowliest and the least, down to our daily vocations—the callings we embrace in service to others, not because we have to, but because we get to.

Jesus calls us, even as he invites our congregations also, to live like that—a life of total abandon and bracing trust. Here, we thought we needed to hang on for dear life, to cling to what we’ve been given, to secure our lives as best we can.

But Jesus has another idea—Jesus has a better future for us, one in which we live by letting go, we survive by emptying ourselves out for this good world. We come out ahead—by giving it all up, for the sake of our neighbors.

God sees the world, still in terrible shape, and God asks: “Who will go for us?” And before we even know it’s happening, we find ourselves saying—with our Lord Jesus: “We’ll go. We’ll sacrifice ourselves as Jesus did for us. We’ll empty ourselves, giving away what we’ve been given, trusting that just as God raised up the crucified Jesus, he will raise us up as well. So really, now, there is nothing to fear.

In the words of the great church historian, the late Jaroslav Pelikan: If Christ is risen, nothing else matters. If Christ is not risen—nothing else matters.

And that, my dear friends, is what we believe to be true. Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again. End of story!

That’s what forms our lives of faith, gives our congregations compelling purpose, and transforms how we conceive of the all the work God has called us to do.

Downward mobility—that’s the Jesus-way, the way of the cross, the only way to the only life worth living.

Downward mobility—may that also define the faithful, fruitful partnership in God’s service that formally begins for you, Pastor Karen, and the people of this congregation today. Live in the embrace of Jesus’ way, the downward path of humble service to one another and to all whom God places in your paths.

In the name of Jesus. Amen.

What a Way to Die...and to Live!

Midweek Lenten Worship/Installation of Pr. Christopher Eldredge

PioneerCare Center, Fergus Falls, MN

April 13, 2011

“It was now about noon, and darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon, while the sun’s light failed; and the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Then Jesus, crying with a loud voice, said, ‘Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.’ Having said this, he breathed his last.” Luke 23:44-46.

In the name of Jesus. Amen.

For some time now I have had a fascination with “famous last words”—you know: the words, the phrases, the statements that famous people utter just before they die.

For example, some famous last words are profound:

“All my possessions for a moment of time.” …the last words of Queen Elizabeth I in 1603.

“I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country.” ….uttered by the American spy, Nathan Hale just before he was hanged by the British in 1776

Other famous last words are more perfunctory, almost matter-of-fact:

“Gas is running low.” Amelia Earhart’s last radio transmission in 1937, before her plane was lost forever in the Pacific.

“I have a terrific headache.” Franklin Delano Roosevelt in 1945, just before he succumbed to a massive cerebral hemorrhage.

“Don’t you go making a fuss over me now; I’m just fine.” According to Garrison Keillor, the famous last words of just about every Norwegian Lutheran who has ever lived in Lake Wobegon, MN.

Some famous last words are profound, others are perfunctory, and a few famous last words simply take us by surprise.

For example, do you know whose famous last words went something like this:

“Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep…”??

Who said those words, just before dying? The answer will surprise you, because it’s Jesus.

Well, OK, that’s not exactly what he said….

Jesus didn’t really pray, “Now I lay me, down to sleep”…..but he did take on his lips the words of a favorite Jewish bed-time prayer of his day, drawn from Psalm 31: “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.”

Jim Limburg, who taught Old Testament at Luther Seminary for many years has even wondered whether Jesus might have spent much of his time on the Cross, reciting (to himself) whole psalms, taking these venerable prayers from the Bible and making them his own, including this favorite Jewish bed-time prayer from Psalm 31: “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.”

That is not how most crucified men in first-century Judea met their deaths. Many of those executed in this most barbaric of ways, died with curses for their executioners dripping from their lips: maledictions for, condemnations of those who inflicted such unspeakable pain and shame upon them. That’s how most crucified men died.

But not Jesus. Jesus died precisely as he lived. Jesus died as you and I can only hope to die—freely, willingly, completely, handing his whole life back to God the Father, the source and goal of all things.

Father….in the Greek, pater….a term of intimate address….

Father, into your hands….which is to say: into your power and your protection, for that is what “hands” represent….

Father, into your hands I commend my spirit: I freely, fully return to you the entire life that you first gave to me.

What a way to die! If it is true that most of us face our deaths in stages…that we more or less go through steps such as denial, anger, bargaining and other reactions before finally arriving at acceptance….well then here is acceptance in its deepest and most faithful form. This is no grim resigning of oneself to one’s fate. It is, rather, acknowledging, in the most heartfelt of ways, that our times—all our times—belong to the only One who made us from nothing and to whom we shall all one day return.

What a way to die!

….and come to think of it: what a way to live! What a way to live every day we have on earth, up to and including our final day.

Since becoming bishop, over three years ago, I have come to treasure a similar night-time prayer supposedly coined by Pope John XXIII who ended each day with these words: “Dear Lord. Another long day is about to end, and I am very weary. This is your church. I’m going to bed now. Amen.”

If we don’t see Jesus’ famous last words as words for every day of our lives, chances are we’ll live as if it’s all about us…as if our times, our decisions, our actions, our lives were all in our own hands--accountable to no one else.

If we don’t see Jesus’ famous last words as words for every day of our lives, chance are we’ll take ourselves way too seriously. All of us, every last one of us, needs to cultivate the gentle art of confronting our dispensability. We are wise to recall the simple truth that on the morning of the day that we leave this earth, there will be things on our “to do” list that simply will not get done.

So Jesus’ famous last words aren’t just good for dying. They’re indispensable for living—each and every day, always and forever praying: “Father, into your hands, I commend my spirit. Whatever good I am privileged to do this day, whatever grace I am allowed to receive, it all comes from You. So at the start of this new day I pray: Father, in your hands I commend my spirit. Let me live, and truly live, before I die.”

These are particularly good words for us to ponder this evening, not only as we conclude the season of Lent, but also as we gather here for worship—for the first time in this lovely new facility, the PioneerCare Center--and as we formally welcome and install Pastor Christopher Eldredge as a valued member of the ministry staff.

PioneerCare has been around since 1928 and this organization still exists to help persons—whether they be residents, staff, visitors or members of sponsoring congregations—PioneerCare is about helping us all pray (and live!) as Jesus did: “Father, into your hands, I commend my spirit.”

As a treasured partner in social ministry and a fine representative of Lutheran Services in America here in Fergus Falls, I am struck by how PioneerCare views its mission in such a faithful, well-rounded way--to “promote quality of life in a Christ-like way for those we serve by providing diverse and holistic care focusing always on individual dignity and worth.”

PioneerCare and all of its services and programs, is here to help persons of all ages and circumstances say, with their Lord Jesus: “Father—you who have fashioned my life, you who are my source and my goal—in your hands, into your power and into your protection—I commend my spirit, I turn over my whole life, now and forever.”

That my dear friends is the business we are in together—whether we’re talking nursing care, social services, housekeeping, food services, chaplaincy or administration—everything we think, say and do through ministries of caring like this—is aimed at making that ancient Jewish bedtime prayer, Jesus’ famous last words, …making them our own words to live by and words to die by: “Father, into your hands, I commend my spirit.”

What a way to die!

And, better yet: what a way to live!

In the name of Jesus. Amen.

Picking a Fight With Death

St Peter’s Lutheran Church, Audubon, MN

Lent 5/April 10, 2011/John 11:1-45

In the name of Jesus. Amen.

In this gospel lesson we hear two of the gems from the Bible.

One of these gems is verse 25, where Jesus declares: “I am the resurrection and the life…”

The other comes ten verses later: “Jesus began to weep” or in an older translation, simply: “Jesus wept”—the shortest verse in the Bible.

The first of these verses cheers us when we mourn: “I am the resurrection and the life.” And the second is prized by squirrelly confirmation students, searching for a quick and easy Bible verse to memorize: “Jesus wept.”

At the risk of over-simplifying things, these two verses encapsulate this entire 11th chapter of St John’s Gospel. In fact, they summarize the whole Good News—they encompass our entire life of faith.

Because one of the things everyone needs to know about Jesus is that he wept. Jesus cried, he was overcome with grief. Which is to say: Jesus is really human, one of us.

“Jesus wept.” Jesus was not protected from or aloof from the hard edges of his humanity. Jesus didn’t get a “free pass” from all of that—the dregs, the deep heartache of grief.

“Jesus wept.” John’s Gospel doesn’t pinpoint precisely why Jesus wept. Maybe he regretted not being there when Lazarus died. Maybe Jesus wept because Lazarus and his sisters Mary and Martha were folks he loved—their house in Bethany, a shelter for Jesus and his followers. Maybe Jesus wept because everyone else was weeping. Maybe Jesus wept in anticipation of his own impending death….perhaps he envisioned another tomb, in another garden, with another stone rolled up against it.

“Jesus wept.” We need to “get that.” Our Savior’s tear ducts were fully functional. Our Lord empathized with, responded to others. Our Master walked where we all walk.

“Jesus wept” even as we have wept and we shall weep again. And I’m not talking about crocodile tears, or crying over a sad movie, or blubbering over a silly soap opera. We shall weep as Jesus wept, because death is the pits, because it’s awful losing a friend.

“Jesus wept,” John 11:35, sums up one key thread of this story. God’s Word in human flesh, was moved to tears. Jesus gets it. He is one with us.

But these tears of Jesus are not tears of despair. Verse 33 of our gospel lesson tells us that “when Jesus saw [Mary] weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved.”

There is a distinct “flavor” to these words in the original Greek. “Greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved” –the phrase depicts Jesus shuddering, being shaken to the core. There is even a hint of anger here. Jesus groans as he approaches Lazarus’s grave, because Jesus knows in his bones that this just isn’t right. This state of affairs—in which death brazenly calls the shots and claims the last word—this cannot go on.

So in Jesus weeping there is an undercurrent of righteous anger—indeed a defiance of death stirring deep within Jesus. And we need to notice that, too, because Jesus doesn’t travel to Bethany just to commiserate with his friends, to mutter his “ain’t it awfuls” with all the other mourners.

Rather, Jesus travels to Bethany to pick a fight with death—to announce that death is about to be up-ended.

Which leads us to the other key verse in our gospel lesson: “I am the resurrection and the life.”

When Jesus shows up to wail with Lazarus’s survivors, he is chided by Martha. “What took you so long?” she asks. “If you hadn’t dilly-dallied you could have prevented this from happening!”

But even as she chides Jesus, Martha is still hoping that Jesus might yet “do something” about this sorry situation. And even as Martha confesses that Lazarus will rise again on the day of resurrection—Jesus interrupts her with an astonishing claim: “I am the resurrection and the life.”

Jesus moves resurrection out of the realm of speculation about a longed-for future. Jesus redefines life as so much more than a natural force in the world. In Jesus, resurrection is walking around on two feet. Life is pushing its way through the crowds that surrounded Jesus.

Jesus doesn’t just hold out a promise of resurrection and life—Jesus is the resurrection and the life.

Which may explain why Jesus tarried for two extra days before coming to Bethany. As a preacher friend of mine once put it, Jesus wanted Lazarus to get “good and dead,” four days in the grave, with all traces of his spirit having vanished from the scene….

Jesus needed Lazarus to be “good and dead,” so that everyone would know that Jesus didn’t just have a knack for preventing disease and death….but that he was about to undo death, even after it had invaded the home of friends he loved.

“Jesus wept,” because death is real and nasty and it makes claims on us that Jesus will not allow to stand. Jesus marches to Bethany in his own good time, because he is going to undo death. Jesus is vetoing death’s premature verdict over Lazarus’s life.

Jesus who actually is resurrection…Jesus who truly is the only life worth living…..Jesus insists on going to Bethany, heading out to the tomb, having the stone rolled away (despite the stench of decay in the air)….Jesus takes charge here, because the Resurrection and the Life has come to pick a fight with Death—and that’s a fight that Death will never win.

And as if that were not enough, Jesus catches up those around him in the miracle of this sign. Instead of crawling into the tomb and single-handedly dragging Lazarus out—Jesus calls to Lazarus, Jesus issues an executive order in the full confidence that Lazarus will hear it and obey.

And when Lazarus appears at the door of the tomb, Jesus hustles the whole community into action: “Unbind him, and let him go.” Peel back the burial shroud, untangle the bands of grave-cloth, turn Lazarus loose!

Jesus returns to Judea—where an attempt had just been made on his life (at the end of John chapter 10)….Jesus marches resolutely to Bethany, to the tomb of Lazarus, in order to pick a fight with Death.

But this is only “Round One” of a greater battle our Lord waged with Death. Virtually every detail is an early echo of a drama yet to be played out. As noted preacher Fred Craddock has observed, “The passion of Jesus bleeds through the surface of [this] story….[When he comes to Lazarus’s tomb] Jesus is experiencing something like a Gethsemane, for he knows that calling Lazarus out of the tomb means that he must enter it.” (Fred Craddock, “A Twofold Death and Resurrection,” The Christian Century, March 21-28, 1999.)

When Jesus was arrested, tried, executed and buried he dealt Death a knockout punch. Call it “Round Two” in his fight-to-the finish with Death. The Resurrection and the Life won that round—for you and for me and for all people everywhere.

But there is more: the story of Lazarus, the passion of our Lord Jesus….these core narratives of faith “bleed through” into our own lives of following Jesus.

We weep—as Jesus wept—because death is the pits, because like Jesus we aren’t just sad, but we’re also mad that death robs us so brazenly.

This state of affairs will not stand, though. Our Lord Jesus Christ has seen to that. Whatever sort of tomb we’re stuck in, wrapped in stinking grave-cloths—Jesus calls us out of that. Jesus issues an executive order to us to leave death behind—the death we bring upon ourselves (our sin), the death that is foisted on us (which we call evil), the death that brazenly pretends to have the last word.

Call this Jesus’ “Round Three,” which continues to play itself out in our lives, here and now. Jesus is still catching us up in this fight to the finish with death. Jesus “calls us out”—out of whatever tomb we’re stuck in.

And—lo and behold—Jesus even enlists us, to be part of the action, calling out others….turning loose anyone whom Jesus places in our paths, just as Jesus enlisted Lazarus’s neighbors to unwrap the bands of grave-cloths, and turn him loose.

What a wide, deep, rich story this is.

From Jesus’ weeping to Jesus picking a fight with death….this story tells the only story worth knowing, Jesus’ story, which has become our story.

Jesus wept—as we shall weep. But Jesus wept as the One who would deprive death of the last word. Jesus claims that Word for himself: “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.”

In the name of Jesus. Amen.

Breaking the Silence About Money in Our Churches

Breaking the Silence about Money in Our Churches

NW MN Synod Spring Stewardship Event

Trinity Lutheran Church, Detroit Lakes, MN

April 7, 2011

It’s always a good idea to listen closely to things we say around the church…especially things that get said and—simply because they’ve been said—are taken as gospel truth even though they may be anything but that.

Here’s one: “All this church ever talks about is money.” Someone says that—passionately, maybe even with a trace of disgust or anger in his tone (in my experience it usually is a HIM who says this)….and there is silence or perhaps even a murmur of agreement.

Here’s another one: “We never talk about money at this church.”

In my experience, all too often, such things are said loudly, forcefully by one person or perhaps a small group of church members—and everyone else (including the pastor, including the elected lay leaders) simply bows their heads, backs off, and agrees….tacitly (by not challenging it) if not overtly through nodded heads and words of agreement. “Yup, people don’t want to hear about money. We don’t want any money-grubbing around here. We talk stewardship—not money,” etc. etc.

Where does such talk come from? Is it based in fact? Do we Lutherans really talk too much about money—do we really? I don’t think so. There’s not too much talk about money in our churches.

There is, rather, a deafening silence about money among us….and it’s one of the things that’s killing us.

But where does such talk come from? It comes, I think, straight from the Old Adam—the collective “old man/old woman” in us all whose motto is: “Protect yourself at all costs.”

Why does such talk “rule the day” in our churches? It’s because of the Old Adam/Old Eve in all of us, that naturally resonates to ANY talk about self-protection. It’s also because we’ve swallowed a whole bunch of ideas, assimilated them so thoroughly that they now live in our bones:

• Talking about money is personal—it’s a privacy issue (and in America, we’ve gone over the top on “privacy concerns.”)

• How I spend my money is between me and my God (watch the pronouns!).

• Money-talk is somehow ‘beneath’ us; money is “dirty” (filthy lucre!) and we aspire to loftier things.

• Money-talk will drive away people from our churches, including the people we actually hope will give money to our churches, though we pledge ourselves to be ever so cautious in even HINTING at asking for their money (a vicious circle!)

And then there’s this one: “We believe that money follows mission….so we talk mainly about mission (do we, really?) and we trust the money will follow.” Even I used to believe this one—but no longer. Jesus, after all, didn’t say: “Where your heart is, there your treasure will be.” He said: “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

Friends, I believe it is high time—it is past time for us to question such statements, and also to ponder our own acquiescence in allowing such statements to pass in our churches. It is time for us to break the silence about money in our churches, and we hope that this synod stewardship event will help you go home and be a catalyst for making that happen.

Four thoughts about “Breaking the Silence.”

1. We need to break the silence about money because how we think, believe, talk and act about money provides a window into our souls.

What we make of money, as followers of Jesus Christ, speaks volumes about our spiritual vitality, the quality of our discipleship.

How a church thinks, believes, speaks and acts about money is like the proverbial “canary in the mineshaft…”

How people of God think, believe, speak and act about money is a key (I’m tempted to say it is THE key) “vital sign” of life within the Body of Christ.

One way we know that is that money-talk frequently makes us say ouch—if only to ourselves. If money-talk makes you cringe or shy away…pay attention to that.

When I visit my dentist, he takes this little probe-thing and goes up and down, along my gum line. My dentist digs around, pokes below the gum line, and sometimes the way he probes makes me grab the armrests of the dentist chair.

I want my dentist to “move on”…to spend more time in the parts of my mouth that feel fine. But my dentist is a sadist—he goes for the bottom corner of that one tooth where there’s this little sticky area—and he pokes around there, and I wish he would stop.

Or my general physician, at my annual physical, gets my shirt off, has me lie down on the examining table….and he kneads my gut, presses on my abdomen….and I tense up (because I’m ticklish)….and my doctor never asks me if anything feels GOOD when he does that. No, he asks me: “Does this hurt?” And if I say yes, he goes back to that area and kneads it some more, watching for my reaction.

Is my dentist a specialist in torture? Is my medical doctor a sadist? No. They focus on the things that make me say “ouch”—the parts that hurt, because the things that hurt in us are the things that could kill us.

And that, I believe, is why we have this code of silence about money in the church. It’s essentially a self-protective move on the part of the Old Adam, the Old Eve, in all of us. “Don’t touch me there—it hurts too much to talk about that…so I’d rather avoid it.” And being the nice people we are…we nice Minnesota Lutherans….we let such statements stand….we tippy-toe around them and end up giving them the status of gospel truth. “We don’t talk about money at this church.”

That kind of statement is like say: “We don’t talk about sin…..we don’t talk about salvation….we don’t talk about anything that really matters at this church.”

Because money matters—it’s a window into our souls.

Mark Allan Powell likes to say: “You think I talk a lot about money—wait until you meet JESUS!” It’s commonly observed that—if you just count up Bible verses—Jesus talks a lot more about money than he talks about prayer.

Because money matters so much—because it is so near and dear to us—we must talk about it. Mark Allan Powell uses a helpful acronym: ARMS—we need to talk about how we acquire money, how we regard money, how we manage money and how we spend money—because the Bible speaks volumes about all four of these topics (Mark Allan Powell, “Stewardship for the Missional Church,” in Rethinking Stewardship: Our Culture, Our Theology, Our Practices [Word and World Supplement Series 6], pp. 77-86).

And leaders, especially pastors, need to get over their reluctance to talk about money….their acquiescence with the big lie that “we don’t talk about money in this church.” For myself, over the course of 30 years as a pastor I have moved from thinking I should never know anything about how the members of a church give to thinking that I would be irresponsible if I didn’t know about giving patterns in a congregation I am called to serve. A pastor not knowing about church members’ giving patterns is like a doctor refusing to read a patient’s medical chart!

2. Breaking the silence about money will allow us to face truths we’d rather avoid, truths we need to face especially if we’ve been called to leadership in Christ’s church.

Such as the following seven facts about U.S. Christian giving (Emerson, Smith and Snell; “U.S. Christians and the Riddle of Stingy Giving” in Rethinking Stewardship, pp. 9-12):

A. 20% of Christians give nothing to church, parachurch or nonreligious charities in this country.

B. Most U.S. Christians give little to church, parachurch or nonreligious charities. The average is 2.9% of income (which climbs to 6.2% of income for those who attend worship at least 2x/month.) Because these figures are averages—averaging out generous givers and stingy givers….a more telling statistic is the median giving of American Christians (the numerically middle position) which is more like 0.6% of their income (2% for attending Christians).

C. A small minority of American Christians give generously—and their giving accounts for most of the money given by Christians. The most generous 5% of Christians supply 60% of all the money donated to churches and charities.

D. Income is unrelated to charitable giving.

E. The past century witnessed more than a quadrupling of real per capita personal income….but this increase in income has not translated into more generous giving.

F. In 2005 U.S. Christians earned a total collective income of more than two trillion dollars—more than the total collective GDP of all nations of the world other than the six wealthiest nations.

G. If U.S. Christians gave on average something approaching a tithe, they could quite literally change the world. Using the 2005 income figure, we’d be talking $133 billion for churches, parachurch organizations and charities.



3. Breaking the silence about money in the church frees us to realize and discuss together how, in the realm of financial stewardship, everything has changed. And we need to do that if we want to be faithful, effective leaders of Christ’s church in the 21st century.

In a nutshell: the Greatest Generation is passing from our midst. Read the obituaries. The Greatest Generation built and maintained institutions, contributed to institutions, because they trusted institutions. The Greatest Generation was the most “churched” generation in the history of denominations in North America. And they gave birth to one of the least “churched” generation, my generation, the Baby Boomers….and we in turn have spawned our even less-churched successor generations.

We might “wish back” the Greatest Generation…but they are passing from the scene. We need to understand and work with the generations who have succeeded them—and we need to get handles on the coming generations (the generations younger than most of us in this room).

We’re talking a sea-change here, with implications for every area of church life including how the church thinks, believes, talks and acts about money….including the money we need to do God’s work in the world.

David Lose encapsulates this sea-change in three ways as he discusses today’s world of “digital pluralism” (David Lose, “Stewardship in the Age of Digital Pluralism,” in Rethinking Stewardship, pp. 111-121):

A. We are moving from an age of obligation to an age of discretion.

B. We are moving from a time when identity was largely received to a time when identity is actively constructed.

C. We have moved from a culture that values tradition to one that values experience.



We might wish that we lived in another time or place—that our period of stewarding Christ’s church on earth were NOT happening here and now.

4. Breaking our silence about money in the churches will help us see that money is so integral to the life of faith that we (in the church) need to talk about it even when we’re not asking for any of it.


Again I am indebted to David Lose, from an article on Working Preacher (www.workingpreacher.org)

“Time to come clean. How many of you have preached a sermon about money without asking for any? I raise this question for three reasons.



First, and as I've alluded to before, I believe our traditions are declining in part because we too rarely address our faith to the concrete and daily issues that concern our hearers. All too often, what our people hear on Sunday has precious little to do with what concerns them on Monday through Saturday.



Second, I know of few people who do not struggle to think faithfully about issues of money – how much to spend, to save, to share; what to spend it on, where to share it, and so forth. Our use of money is intimately connected with our priorities, values, and faith, and most people I know would crave some help from their church in thinking about all this.



Third, I honestly believe that if we can help people connect their faith to their everyday, pressing, real life concerns, then most of them will give generously and faithfully because of the difference their congregation makes to them.”

Here’s my take on what Dr. Lose is saying: We need to break the silence about money in our churches so that we talk about money so regularly, so effortlessly that folks come to see how integral their money-talk, money-think, money-act is to their whole life of faith and discipleship…..and as we do that we will also overcome some of our hang-ups, our nervousness about talking about giving some of our money to the church. Talking MORE about money—even, perhaps especially when it’s not during the stewardship campaign!!—may in the long run make it less necessary to talk about money every autumn(as in “time to give some of it to church”) because money-talk will simply be woven into the entire fabric of our lives of faith.

Next Generation: They're ALL Our Children

The Next Generation: They’re ALL Our Children

“[Jesus said], ‘Let the little children come to me; do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs. Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.’ And he took them up in his arms, laid his hands on them, and blessed them.” Mark 10:14-16

When it comes to words, the smallest ones are often the most important—prepositions and pronouns especially. In the Next Generation vision it’s critical that we define “our” very carefully. Just who, exactly are “our” children?

Let’s resist our natural tendency to narrow the definition of “our.” “Our” children must be more than the kids in “our” homes or “our” congregations. What if we considered all members of the next generation with whom we have any relationship whatsoever “our” children? What if we accepted radical responsibility for all of these children? What if we drew the circle as big as we might imagine it to be?

Starting with the Inner Circle


To talk this way is not to deny our responsibility for the children in our innermost circles of kinship and relationship. Surely we will think of the children we have birthed or adopted as “our” children. When a child comes into our lives the whole world changes for us. As followers of Jesus we will avoid spiritual child abuse or neglect; we will assume a profound responsibility to “help [our] children grow in the Christian faith and life.” (“Holy Baptism,” Evangelical Lutheran Worship, p. 228)

But such “inner circle” responsibility cannot be borne alone by parents. For good reason the entire Christian community faces the baptismal font, everyone promising “to support [the baptized ones] and pray for them in their new life in Christ.” (ELW, p. 228) In Holy Baptism, all children—whether they are carried to the font or walk on their own two feet—become God’s children and “our” children. Several years ago, during a presidential election, folks asked: “Which does it take to raise a child—a family or a village?” What a silly question! It takes both a family and a village (or congregation) to raise a child in Christian faith and life. They’re all our children!

This has profound implications for our priorities. The older generation has always borne a special responsibility for the next generation. We undertake sacrifices, commit resources, and make huge investments in all our children. We do this together, cognizant of the fact that all Christian adults are also Christian parents. Our care for the children in our homes and churches is foundational for all the ways we tend the other children whom God entrusts to us.

And for how long do we bear such radical responsibility for all our children? When do Christian parents get to “retire?” Several years ago, on a Confirmation Sunday, I did something rather mean. I preached my sermon primarily to the parents of the confirmands. Recalling the promises they made when their kids were baptized, I asked them when they would be finished fulfilling those promises? (I’m guessing most of them thought they were finished that day—it was Confirmation Sunday, after all!)

Here’s the mean thing I did. I quoted the words from the liturgy of Baptism in the Lutheran Book of Worship, including these words: “As they grow in years, you should…provide for their instruction in the Christian faith, that, living in the covenant of their Baptism and in communion with the Church, they may lead godly lives until the day of Jesus Christ.” There’s the end date for our Christian parenting: when Jesus returns to usher in God’s New Creation. We’re not finished with our responsibilities to the next generation until then! Even if you have adult children, your calling to help form Jesus Christ in them (Galatians 4:19) is not finished until the Day of Resurrection.

The Next Generation in Our Communities

But is it enough for us to look after all our children in the inner circles of our homes and congregations? What about all the other kids in our “mission field?” Are they not, also in some sense, “our” children?

A pastor who used to serve in our synod loved to walk her dog through the small town where she served—attracting children who loved to pet the dog. The pastor’s dog helped open up ways to express love and care for all the children of her town.

Aren’t we always stumbling across such opportunities in our callings to be salt and light (Matthew 5:13-14) in our communities? The next generation all around us—in our communities—they are also “our” children. And we tend to under-estimate how many of them are out there.

Question: in the 21 counties that make up our synod, who do we have more of—children and youth under the age of 18, or senior adults age 65 and older? Which of these cohorts in our region’s population is larger?

When I have posed this question in congregations up and down western Minnesota, almost always I have heard this answer: “Oh goodness, we have lots more old folks than youth in our community!” And almost always this answer is dead wrong! Here’s what we discover in the latest demographic data regarding the territory covered by our synod:

Age category            Numbers of such persons                Percentage of such persons

Under age 18           93,566                                            23.5%

Age 65+                  67,603                                             17%

Nearly one-quarter of the almost 400,000 residents of our synod’s 21 counties are under the age of 18. This holds true in 17 of the 21 counties of the synod. Truly, the next generation is all around us! And they are, in a sense, all “our” children: children to treasure, know by name, pray for, and invite into the Christian life.

What if our synod became known as “the church that cares passionately for all God’s children?” What if we bent over backwards to invite the children, youth and their families to all the good things God is doing in our congregations?

What if, when issues of public policy were being discussed, we Lutherans became identified as those who consistently stand on the side of what’s best for the next generation? Part of our callings in Christ entails our citizenship. Periodically we are faced with stark choices about our common life today and the kind of future that we can anticipate.

School referendum elections determine whether our education system will remain strong and vital—but often these turn into battlegrounds that divide communities. Empty-nesters and other older adults say things like: “I don’t have any kids in the schools” or “my kids have graduated—we’ve paid our dues.” But, my dear friends in Christ, are not all the kids in our communities “our” children, regardless of our own age or circumstances?

In an article that recently appeared in Newsweek magazine, Fareed Zakaria wrote: “American politics is now hyperresponsive to constituents’ interests. And all those interests are dedicated to preserving the past rather than investing for the future….There are no special-interest groups for our children’s economic well-being, only for people who get government benefits right now….That is why the federal government spends $4 on elderly people for every $1 it spends on those under 18. And when the time comes to make cuts, guess whose programs are first on the chopping board. That is a terrible sign of society’s priorities and outlook.”

Once we start asking who are “our” children, the circle just keeps expanding. It becomes only natural for us to claim as “ours”

• All the children and grandchildren of our homes and congregations who may have moved to other locales but who are still tied to us by bonds of kinship and care;

• All the children of Minnesota and the United States;

• All the children of God’s world, including the amazing youth of our companion synod, the Andhra Evangelical Lutheran Church in southern India.

Before I close this article, I need to address a question you may be wondering about. Does all this attention to the next generation mean that we no longer care about the “elders” in our homes, churches and communities? Far from it! One of my seminary professors liked to say: “Preach to the eighth graders, and everyone else will listen.” When we undertake the great generational task of raising up our children, when we make our young ones our priority—lo and behold, all of society and all of the church is blessed. It’s about those of us who have walked long in faith leaving the best legacy for the ones who will replace us in serving God’s mission.

Your Brother in Christ,

Lawrence R. Wohlrabe
Bishop, Northwestern Minnesota Synod
Evangelical Lutheran Church in America
God’s work. Our hands.

For reflection and discussion:

1. How do you and the disciples in your congregation keep the promises you make every time you participate in a Baptism? What more might God be calling you to do for the baptized?

2. What are some implications of the notion that Christian parents/adults never really “retire” from their responsibilities to the next generation?

3. Why do we tend to under-estimate the number of children and youth in our communities?

4. Besides school referendum elections, what are some other public policy issues that have a direct effect on the next generation?

This is the fourth in a series of columns on Bishop Wohlrabe’s “Next Generation” vision (available at http://www.nwmnsynod.org/BISHOP'S%20PAGE.htm) for the NW MN Synod. These columns are designed to equip the disciples and leadership groups such as church councils, for faithful and fruitful ministry. Feel free to use the column for personal reflection or group discussion, e.g. church council meeting devotions/discussion.

Tuned to God's Praise

Lent 3/Year A/March 27, 2011

Faith Lutheran Church, Evansville

John 4:5-42

In the name of Jesus. Amen.

He wanted her.

And he intended to have her, no matter what.

So he left his path and went to her.

He crossed over into the no-man’s-land of Samaria...traveled to a place where he knew he’d find her.

He headed for the well, Jacob’s well.

It wasn’t his space–or any man’s space, for that matter. It was where the women-folk gathered, mornings and evenings, to trade gossip and fetch water for their homes.

He knew she’d come there, but only in her good time.

She’d come to the well only when the other women were far away.

She’d come at noon, lugging her heavy stone water jar.

She’d come when the sun was high overhead because then she’d avoid the sneering stares and piercing glares that always dogged her.

Jesus wanted her, and he intended to have her, so he–a man and a Jew at that–freely entered her Samaritan territory, sought her out in space and time, went after her.

This same Jesus wants you, and he intends to have you no matter what.


And so he has abandoned his own space and entered your space.


He seeks you out on your turf, in your time, in this moment.


Even when you imagine that you’re all alone, that no one else is around, Jesus is there–searching you out, tracking you down.


He wants you and he means to have you–and there is no stopping him! Jesus never likes to take “no” for an answer.

Jesus wanted her–this woman by Jacob’s well. He wanted her, and he intended to have her, whatever it might take.

When the woman wondered out loud why he, a Jew, was even speaking to her, a woman–and a Samaritan to boot!–when she wondered aloud what he was up to, he just came after her.

This woman had heard plenty of pickup lines before, no doubt.

Other men had sweet-talked her, offered her the moon, told her what she wanted to hear, flattered her in order to possess her for themselves.

But this man, this Jesus, was different.

He wanted her and he would have her, but in a way she’d never been “had” before.

Jesus wanted her for who she was and for who she would yet become. He wanted her for the possibility, for the promise, that was brimming in her—he could see it, even if no one else could!

And–miracle of miracles!–Jesus wanted her, even though he knew her better than she knew herself.

He wanted her, even though he knew and could name all the tough luck and tawdry truth about her.

She’d been unlucky in love. Five trips to the altar–all of them ended in death or divorce. And that man with whom she currently shared her life–he didn’t put much stock in marriage licenses.

Jesus just came out and named that...because he was familiar, intimately familiar, with the whole sorry business.

But he still wanted her, went after her, wooing her with his own winsome words.

This same Jesus wants you.


Astonishing, isn’t?


Jesus has read you like a book. Probed all the parts of your story you keep a lid on. Delved into all your dark secrets.


Jesus has been to all those places you thought no one else knew about.


Jesus knows about every last thing that shames you…


…and still he wants you and means to have you.


This same Jesus is on your trail. He has designs on you--warts and all. He’s after you, dogging you, tracking you down. Nothing you have thought or said or done can scare him away.


In fact, the more this Jesus knows about you–the beautiful, the ugly and everything in between!–the more he knows about you, the more he wants you.


And make no mistake about it: Jesus will have you, of that you can be sure!


Jesus had her in his sights: this Samaritan woman with her five times to the altar.

And he intended to have her….but only in his own way and on his own terms.

Others had flattered her and offered her the moon just to use her.

Still others had condemned her and thrown endless demands at her.

But this Jesus was different.

He wooed her as no other Lover ever had wooed her.

Rather than dumping condemnations and demands on her, he spoke to her with fearless truth and passionate promises.

Jesus just kept coming after her with promise upon promise–living water, an end to thirst, total intimacy with God, free and overflowing forgiveness, a future without end.

Every time the Samaritan woman tried to shift gears, divert his attention, change the subject....every time she tried to elude his grasp....Jesus just kept coming after her, filling her ears with hope, winning her with love the likes of which she had never known.

This same Jesus wants you….but only in his way and on his terms.


He’s not into deal-making or “trading up” or any other version of “you-scratch-my-back-and-I’ll-scratch-yours.”


He means to have you, but only on the basis of his own life--freely given for you and me and all people. Jesus doesn’t want you “beholding” to him; he prefers capturing your heart with unconditional promises. Only on the uncanny foundation of Jesus’ no-strings-attached love, forgiveness and freedom.


This Jesus comes to you with no fawning flattery, no my-way-or-the-highway deals.


This Jesus comes to you, grabbing you by the ears with the kind of Promise that can be uttered only by someone who has gone to death for you, risen again from the grave for you.


Jesus wanted her–this woman who’d known six men under her roof.

And he intended to have her–this woman by Jacob’s well.

But, when all was said and done, what he wanted from her most was her voice, her vocal chords. That was the end-product, the goal of all Jesus’ “courting” of her there by Jacob’s well.

To be sure, Jesus wanted to hear her speak words of love and trust to him.

But even more than that, Jesus wanted to shape on her lips words of love and grace she could speak to others.

And so, forgetting why she even had come to that well, the woman left her heavy stone water jar and hightailed it back to her town.

Having avoided the curious and condemning crowds for so long, having lived like a recluse, now all of a sudden she became a social butterfly.

This woman, who used to steer clear of all those nosy town-folk—now she could not wait to tell them, breathlessly: “Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done! Could he be–could he really be the one we’ve been waiting for–the Messiah?”

Jesus wanted her for that–for that astonishing word of winsome witness.

In order to draw out from her that breath-taking proclamation, Jesus had burned away all her shame and restored her voice in her community.

And the whole town believed because of her!

The whole blooming village declared: “We have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is truly the Savior of the world.”

This same Jesus wants you, and he will have you–so that he can “own” your hands, feet, and voice—all devoted to Jesus and his promises, all tuned to his praise.


This same Jesus, as much as he wants you to believe in him, is after something even greater.


Jesus is working in you to go after others through you. As we like to say in our Evangelical Lutheran Church in America: “God’s work. Our hands.”


Jesus’ good news, his gospel reaches its final destination only when it springs from your lips as naturally, as automatically as fruit grows on a tree.


He wants you, wants the work of your hands and your word of witness to fly into all those places where he has called you to live and move and have your being.


Jesus’ word for you, Jesus word to you, reaches its goal when it becomes Jesus' word through you, to others, to all the people he places in your path.


And, mark me well, Jesus will bring it to pass.


Somewhere, somehow there is another Sychar, a town, a community, a collection of human beings who will shout Hallelujah because of your witness.


Jesus wants you–and he will have his way with you and through you, until strangers become believers, until you and I become instruments tuned to his praise!


In the name of Jesus.

Amen.

"Children, Go Where I Send You"

Oak Ridge, Thief River Falls, MN; and Zion, Viking, MN

March 20, 2011

Lent 2/Genesis 12:1-4a

In the name of Jesus. Amen.

Whenever I go somewhere I want to make sure I know where am I going.

So if I’m traveling outside the United States I call up a reliable travel agent who can help me with the details of the journey….

And if I’m going somewhere inside our country, I contact AAA (of which I have been a member since 1964)….and I request a AAA “triptik,” and maps, and tourbooks for the area I’ll be visiting….

And even if I’m just trekking from Moorhead up to Thief River Falls and Viking, as we did this morning, I like to know where I’m going. So I fuss around with Mapquest on the Internet, I call up folks to make sure I’ve got the right directions, and I calculate the mileage and time it will take to travel. I even build in a “fudge factor” for getting lost or running into bad weather.

Get the point? When I travel, I do not travel “blindly.” I want to know where I’m going….

….and just as importantly, I want to make sure I know how to get back home. So, I leave some of my travel information with my wife Joy. I give her an estimated time of arrival back home, so that she doesn’t need to start worrying about me until after that time has passed….though if that happens, I’ll probably give her a call on my cell phone or using the Onstar communications system I have in my Chevrolet.

Don’t I sound like a fun guy to travel with? Talk about a worry wart! That’s me….because I don’t like to travel “blind.” And maybe you’re the same way, too.

Which makes this wild story from our First Lesson in Genesis 12 so hard to swallow.

It’s about 2000 B.C. There are no GPS locators, no Onstar systems, no cell phones. Goodness—there aren’t even any maps because paper hasn’t been invented yet.

It’s 2000 B.C. and a man named Abram, living in place located in present-day Iraq…..Abram hears a voice—out of the clear blue!--telling him that he needs to “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you.”

It’s the LORD speaking to Abram, inviting him to take a flying leap of faith….to cut off all ties to the land he had known, the clan he had grown up with, and the immediate family whom he loved….to kiss all that goodbye in order to go to some mystery destination that the LORD should show him.

Talk about traveling blindly!

But here’s the kicker, in the final verse of our text: “So Abram went, as the LORD had told him…”

Abram went—along with his wife Sarai—they went “as the LORD had told him.”

And that turned out to be a very good thing because the whole world was counting on Abram to do what the LORD had asked of him…because “all the families of the world” would be blessed through Abram and Sarai and the amazing journey they were willing to take.

Because Abram and Sarai left their own land, clan and family…because they journeyed by faith in God’s promises to them…they opened themselves up to an adventure that took over 2000 years to unfold. You can read all about it in your Old Testament!—the story of Israel and Israel’s God and the wild promises they lived by and God’s mighty acts that kept them going, spurred their traveling, pointing them forward to a manger in Bethlehem, a cross outside Jerusalem, and an Empty Tomb on Easter morning….from which blessings burst forth that are still “falling” on us 4000 years after Abram set out on his perilous journey.

Wow! Who’d have thunk it, that it all could start, perhaps on a morning like this, when a man and his wife ventured forth to an unknown destination, simply because a Voice asked them to!

It takes our breath away….and I’m guessing that it also makes us a little nervous, because we live our lives much more sparingly, more safely, more cautiously. If we go somewhere we want to know where we’re going and how we’ll get back home—and even more so, we’re not about to abandon the familiar things of life: home and hearth, family and friends. The mere thought of such radical change causes us to shiver.

You’ve no doubt heard the old joke: “How many Lutherans does it take to change a light bulb?” (Pause) “Change?”

But change is what God is after with us and with the whole human family. God has no patience with “stuckness”—especially when its sin we’re stuck in, faithlessness that’s holding us back, and fear of the future.

So God is always prying us loose from all the awful things that tie us down, and hold us back. God is always out ahead of us, restoring, reclaiming, and making all things new.

But it always begins with a first step….the first step that Abram and Sarai took from their home in “Ur of the Chaldeans” (Genesis 11:31)…the first steps that a toddler named Jesus took, in the village of Nazareth…steps that would bring Jesus to the Cross and the Grave, for us and for our salvation.

God is in the business of calling his people out of “stuckness” into such radical newness. God singles out Abram and Sarai and says: “Children, go where I send you.” God sends forth his one and only Son, wrapped in our flesh, tempted in every way as we are, feet on the ground, walking this earth, uttering God’s promises, and bearing the waywardness and rebellion of those he came to save.

Such journeys are terrifying, frankly, and God’s chosen travelers are tempted to turn back more than once (read the whole story of Abram and Sarai some time!) And even Jesus had some last minute doubts in the Garden of Gethsemane.

But there’s one thing that kept them all going, Abram and Sarai, all their many descendants, our Lord Jesus, and you and me. The one thing that keeps us going is our unshakeable conviction that although we may not know exactly where we are going, we believe God is at the end of the journey. And that is enough.

And what about you, my dear sisters and brothers here at Oak Ridge/Zion? What kind of journey are you on? I know that your path has been rocky of late. You’ve been wondering—with good reason!—whether you still have an earthly future, as a two-point parish. The disaffiliation vote at Zion that failed on March 6 has changed the landscape for you….has caused you to wonder: “Now what?”

And yet, as I have already heard from my colleague Pr. Steve Peterson who was with some of you last Monday evening…there are glimmers of light, fresh possibilities and new hope here at Oak Ridge and Zion. You have not “hit the wall.” Your trip is not over. God is not done with you. In fact, out of the pain and heartache of the last year or so…God seems poised to do a new thing in your midst. I’m told that it even feels fun again to come to worship, to be together with one another, to be here in God’s house.

Why should that surprise any of us? We belong, after all, to the God who loves to have the last laugh—the God who forgives sins, frees those who are “stuck,” and opens up a new future in Jesus Christ. This same God who has always been your God is not about to stop walking with you now…

….and neither will we, who are bound together in Christ Jesus, as fellow-travelers in our Northwestern Minnesota Synod of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America. God binds us together, not because we see eye to eye on everything, but because together we follow our Lord Jesus, into God’s mission field, into the adventure of blessing the whole world for Jesus’ sake, into all the tomorrows that are still before us…until we arrive in God’s New Creation.

So, my dear friends, Pastor Laurie and I got up at an ungodly hour this morning, simply to be with you on this Lord’s Day…and to point you once again to the promises of God that are truly enough for us, now and forever.

You are not alone. God is still leading you, and we will continue walking with you.

Please pray with me: Lord, God, you have called your servants to ventures of which we cannot see the ending, by paths as yet untrodden, through perils unknown. Give us faith to go out with good courage, not knowing where we go, but only that your hand is leading us and your love supporting us; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.  (Evangelical Lutheran Worship, p. 304)