Pr. Joseph Crippen

Do not be afraid: God is with you, so take heart. God is also in you, for the world, so the world can take heart.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Tenth Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 19 A
Texts: Matthew 14:22-33; Romans 10:5-15

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

They weren’t frightened by the storm this time.

Another time in a Galilean storm, the disciples feared the boat would sink, and woke the sleeping Jesus.

This time they were trying to sail against the strong wind, probably rowing, and that’s hard work. When I used to sail, having the wind with you is like flying. Against the wind, it’s real labor to go where you want.

On a church canoe trip in eighth grade, we overshot the landing about a mile downstream. All we could do was turn into the current and paddle hard. It took forever.

That’s the disciples. Tired, far from shore. And they had to find the strength, after an exhausting few days, to cross the sea against the wind.

That feels like us now.

As Christ we are called to face so many challenges in our world today. Systemic racism, and the world-wide explosion of outrage at this persistent and brutal problem, centered just blocks from us. A chronic lack of affordable housing that’s created, among other things, an encampment in Powderhorn Park next door. A failed economic system that exposes millions to eviction on top of losing their jobs, with much of our federal government indifferent to this crisis. To be Christ today is a tremendous challenge to our creativity, our will, our listening skills, our discipleship. It feels like rowing against the wind.

On top of all that, we’re in a global pandemic that’s shut down nearly everything. We can’t gather together to talk to each other and listen on any of these challenges. We can’t gather to worship and be fed and strengthened by God together, as we’re used to.

It feels like we’re trying to deal with some of the greatest challenges of discipleship most of us have ever faced, with our hands tied behind our backs. We’re in a boat on the sea, the wind raging against us, and many days the boat feels as if it’s going backwards.

But in the midst of their fruitless rowing, Jesus comes and says, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.”

Jesus is exhausted himself. After the emotional trauma of John’s execution, and days of endless healing and preaching, ending with a wondrous meal for thousands, he finally gets time apart on the mountain by sending the disciples across the sea ahead of him and dismissing the crowds.

But in the dark, early hours before dawn, he leaves his retreat and comes to the disciples. He could have skirted the sea and met them at their destination. But he sees them struggling against the wind and decides to help.

They didn’t have to look for Jesus; he came to them. It’s as Paul says to the Romans today: no one needs to go up to heaven or down to the abyss to find God in Christ. Christ is near to you, on your lips and in your hearts, in the midst of your life, your struggles, Paul says.

But the disciples don’t recognize Jesus.

They think he’s a ghost. They’re terrified. And this is where you and I come in.

God comes to us in our struggle against the wind and says, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid!” And yet we also fail to recognize God’s presence sometimes.

After George Floyd’s death, a couple nights we went to bed not knowing if Mount Olive’s building would be standing in the morning. Seeing it intact was, of course, a blessing. But it also gave me a sense of guilt: why should we be standing when our neighbors are burned down?

Someone said, “God was with us.” Yes, God is and was. But what about our neighbors who lost everything? Is it right to say “God is near you, in your heart and on your lips,” to someone who lives in a tent in Powderhorn? Should we say “Take heart, God is with you, do not be afraid” to someone who lives in abject poverty?

We might feel we’re rowing against the wind trying to be of Christly service to others. Imagine the strength of the wind against you if you’ve lost your job and are losing your home. If you are daily aware that the color of your skin makes you a target, even of government officials.

Peter said, “If it is you, Lord, give us a sign.” That’s what we need, too. To see if God is here. With us. With our neighbors.

And here’s the sign: there are two hands in this story.

The first is Peter’s hand, reaching up as he sinks, saying, “Lord, save me!”

As we row against the wind, as we feel the struggle of daily discipleship, trust this: Peter reaches out his hand and Jesus grabs it. So, ask yourself: when in these months of quarantine, these past years of a seeming collapse of government and society, these days of fear and challenge, when have you reached out and felt God take your hand?

In my spiritual direction group last week our director opened the time of silence with a reflection on Jesus’ words: ask, and you will receive; seek, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened. (Matt. 7) In the time of silence, rather than focusing on the exhausting struggle against the wind I feel most days, I felt drawn to reflect on where God had come to me in these days. What I had received, and found, and had opened. And I saw many ways God came to me in these hard months saying, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.”

This is the grace center of the Gospel today, and Paul’s proclamation, and it is yours: God is near to you, in your heart, on your lips; God is with you, so be of good courage. Even as you row against the wind.

Take time to reflect on these months and see if you can note places God came to you. It will be a blessing. Because when you see that when your hand reached up, you found yourself in the presence of God, you will be able to let go of some of your fear.

The other hand is Jesus’ hand.

He reaches out and grabs Peter. This is how you lovingly witness to God’s presence amidst the chaos of this world, to your neighbors who are rowing against the wind. Be Jesus’ hand.

You were anointed for this in baptism. This is God’s gift for the world, the many ways and times you can be the hand that reaches out and says, “Don’t be afraid; God is here.”

So also reflect on this: When your neighbor asks, seeks, knocks, when are you the gift given? The needed thing that is found? The opened door? When you can be the hand that reaches out to the one sinking, with God’s strength in your hand, you are the presence of God to your neighbor.

In this story, as soon as Jesus gets in the boat, the wind stops.

We’ve lived in this world long enough to know that’s not how God usually works.

Recognizing God’s presence in your life doesn’t mean you aren’t still rowing against the wind. Being God’s presence to others doesn’t mean they have no more wind, either.

But now you know Jesus is in the boat with you, pulling an oar. Now you know you are rowing with your neighbor, too, easing their load.

We all will get to shore one day. But in the meantime, we also don’t need to be afraid.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

These images are Good News of God’s persistent grace in bringing life and healing to all through you and through me.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Eighth Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 17 A
Texts: Matthew 13:31-33, 44-52; Romans 8:26-39; Genesis 29:15-28

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

Jesus is telling good news here.

That’s the truth in these parables of the reign of heaven. “Jesus went through Galilee,” Matthew says, “proclaiming the Good News of the reign of heaven, saying it has come near.” (4:17, 23)

These images are all Good News. And that means there’s hope.

There’s hope in a tiny seed, Jesus says.

Walking alongside a field, seeing a mustard plant, Jesus says, “That’s what I’m talking about! God’s reign, the reign of heaven, is like that.”

A tiny seed, carrying the whole life and future of the larger plant inside it, doesn’t reveal that potential. But it will germinate and grow and become a shelter for birds, a giver of shade.

Good news, Jesus says. That’s what you are! You might feel insignificant, small, unable to do much for this world’s pain, but you have the glory of God’s love and grace already within you. Living in God’s reign of love, you will grow and thrive and give shade and shelter in ways you can’t imagine, a blessing to others.

Have hope in that, Jesus says.

There’s hope in yeast, Jesus says.

Glimpsing a woman through a doorway who’s making bread, Jesus says, “That’s what I’m talking about! God’s reign, the reign of heaven, is like that.”

Just a few little organisms placed in a big pile of flour start to grow, eat sugars, and a miracle happens: a loaf rises out of that sticky lump, and once baked, it’s a delight to the eyes, the nose, the mouth, the stomach.

Good news, Jesus says. That’s what you are! You might feel insufficient, and the problems of the suffering world immense: what can so few do? But when you join with others and love as Christ in your little space in this suffering world, you change the chemistry of your world. From what seems unsightly and inedible comes nourishment for all, like beautiful bread.

Have hope in that, Jesus says.

There’s also hope if you can learn to see real treasure, Jesus says.

If you found a treasure only you knew about, you’d do all you could to have it be yours. If you spent your life searching for the most beautiful pearl and found it, you’d sell everything to have it.

But what if you don’t see the reign of heaven as such a treasure, such a pearl? Try this: In God’s reign, love of God and love of neighbor transform and heal all things. Imagine this world, this city, if all loved God, all loved their neighbor. That’s the treasure of God’s reign, Jesus says, that’s the pearl.

Good news, Jesus says. This way of vulnerable love which I’m calling you to walk is one that will bring joy and life to you and to those around you, transform your world. It is the most precious thing you could know.

Have hope in that, Jesus says.

There’s even hope in a big, wide net, Jesus says.

Watching people pulling in nets on the lake, Jesus says, “That’s what I’m talking about! God’s reign, the reign of heaven, is like that.”

A net pulls in more than fish, though. Driftwood, old boots, even what some would call trash. Only the Netminder gets to decide what’s worth keeping and what isn’t. Now, the added interpretation here says in the end times the good will be kept and the evil thrown on the fire.

But that’s not Jesus’ verdict. At the cross, drawing all things to himself, Jesus said, “every single thing in this net, in this world, in this creation, is mine and loved and redeemed by this.” Nothing will be thrown and burned.

This net opens up the joy of Paul’s strange words today about predestination that sometimes cause anxiety. Look carefully at Paul’s logic. He starts with “those God whom foreknew.” Well, the Triune God created all things, so is there anyone God doesn’t foreknow, any thing?

And all God foreknew, Paul says, God predestined to be conformed to the image of Christ. Since God obviously foreknew the whole creation, then God also predestined all things to be shaped into Christ’s love. And those God predestined, God called, Paul says. Who wants to argue that God doesn’t call everyone, everything? And those whom God called, God justified, and those whom God justified God glorified. Follow the logic: all are foreknown, so all are predestined to conform to Christ, therefore all are called, all are justified, all are glorified. God’s net is as wide and inclusive as the universe.

Good news, Jesus says. You might be an old boot, but God treasures you. Have hope in that, Jesus says.

One thing here might give you concern: time is needed for all these.

The seed doesn’t grow instantly; the bread needs hours to rise. The treasure finder needs time to re-bury, get money, get the title. The merchant spends a lifetime looking for the great pearl. And only when the net gets pulled up on shore is God’s treasure seen for what it is.

Good news is here, and hope is here. But be ready for things to take time. God’s reign – a way of working healing through each of us, through you, incarnate in you as love and grace – is not an instant fix.

Just look at Leah today, discarded, unloved by her husband, seen as a nuisance to be gotten rid of by her father, outshone by her sister. It’s a wretched story for Leah.

But remember this: Leah is the mother of Judah, the ancestor of David. Leah, not Rachel, is the multiple great-grandmother of Israel’s greatest king. And about 1,600 years after she was so shamefully treated, God’s Messiah, the Incarnate One, Jesus himself, is born from Leah’s line, not Rachel’s. Leah is the one in whom God’s glory shines, God’s favor spreads to the world. It just took some time.

Now can you see why Paul says, “Nothing can separate us from God’s love in Christ Jesus?”

Even if it takes centuries, God will accomplish the healing and restoration of all things through this vulnerable love. If these stories tell you anything about God it is that God is persistent and steady and will finally get what God desires. Even if God has to die and rise to get it all started. Even if God has to work with tiny little seeds like you and me, people who struggle to see the treasure when it’s right in front of us, people who want to kick others out of the net.

At the cross, Christ drew all things into God’s embrace in order to send out all things for the healing of the creation. So God’s reign will come, is already near.

Seeds are growing into trees, yeast is creating bread, treasures are found, nets are gathering in all things, and Leah has become Messiah’s grandma.

Have hope in this. This is good news. For you. For all.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen