Pr. Joseph Crippen

Whatever lies the Great Slanderer whispers in your ear and plants in your heart, hear this truth: you are God’s child, you are beloved, and you are well-pleasing to God.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The First Sunday in Lent, year A
Texts: Matthew 4:1-11

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

Who do you trust to tell you the truth about you?

And how do you know if someone is lying about you, or falsely accusing you, or slandering who you really are? Today there is such an abandonment of objective truth in our society that anyone can say anything about another person, and if they say it enough, it is believed. Any one can claim the truth about events that are self-evidently different than they say, and if they repeat it enough, it is believed.

So what about when that happens to you? Or worse, when you, in fear and anxiety, slander yourself?

The Great Slanderer shows up in our Gospel today. That’s what the Greeks meant by their word diabolos, a word translated “devil,” a word that becomes diabolical in English. It can also mean “false accuser,” which is the meaning of the Hebrew word “Satan.”

So Jesus, soaking wet from his baptism, heads into the desert, where the Slanderer whispers lies into his ear, lies intended to destroy Jesus’ sense of his identity, his truth, his purpose in life.

But the Slanderer apparently doesn’t notice that Jesus is dripping with baptismal water. And that’s a huge mistake.

Dutch priest and theologian Henri Nouwen named three lies we believe about ourselves, lies that kill us.

There is the lie, “I am what I do.” The lie that my value and identity come from what I accomplish, what my job is, from my success.

There is the lie, “I am what other people say or think about me.” The lie that my value and identity come from others, from what they say I’m worth.

And there is this lie: “I am what I have.” The lie that my value and identity come from what I possess, what I’ve accumulated, what I own and control.

These three lies destroy our sense of our identity, our truth, our purpose in life. And strangely, these are the same three lies the Slanderer whispers to Jesus in the desert.

Are you really God’s Son? the Slanderer said. Can you do anything?

Could you turn these stones into bread? If not, what are you worth?

But Jesus still has water dripping off him from the Jordan and he knows what he heard from his Father’s voice: “You are my Son.” Jesus doesn’t need to do a miracle prove that. He is a child of God.

Remember that when the Slanderer whispers in your ear that you aren’t successful enough or don’t have abilities, that you can’t prove you belong to God in any way worth noticing. The Slanderer has forgotten that you still have water dripping off you, too, and you’ve heard the same voice of the Triune God say to you: “You are my child.”

That is your truth, child of God.

So the Slanderer tries another lie. How sure are you that you matter to God?

Do you really think you’re protected, safe, secure? This mission you’re going to do, Jesus, isn’t going to end well. Do you think your Father really cares for you? the Slanderer asks.

But Jesus is still soaking wet, and knows what he heard from his Father’s voice: “You are my beloved.” Even within the mystery of the life of the Trinity, these words are precious and life-giving: I love you. Jesus doesn’t need to test that, jump off a high building to see if he’ll be safe. He is God’s beloved.

Remember that, child of God, when the Slanderer whispers in your heart that you really aren’t important enough to matter to God. That if God really loved you you wouldn’t get sick, or you wouldn’t have setbacks or suffering. You wouldn’t know pain or grief. Because the Slanderer has once more forgotten that you’re soaking wet, too, and you’ve heard the same voice of the Triune God say to you: “You are my beloved.”

That is your truth, beloved child of God.

There’s one more lie to attempt.

Surely, Jesus, you can’t believe you’re important if you control nothing? You’re poor, insignificant, with no political or religious authority. If only you had control of this world, you’d know you were the Messiah. Everyone would know. I could do that for you, the Slanderer says.

But Jesus shakes the water from his head and remembers what he heard from his Father’s voice: “I am well pleased with you.” Jesus doesn’t need wealth or possessions or control or power to prove he is doing what God wants, or to heal the world with God’s sacrificial love.

Remember that, beloved child of God, when the Slanderer whispers to you that you really can’t know God is pleased with you if you don’t have possessions and wealth, visible signs of blessing. Or tells you that you need power and control over others to know who you really are. Because the Slanderer has forgotten, again, that you have water to shake from your head, too, and you’ve heard the same voice of the Triune God say to you: “I am well pleased with you.”

That is your truth, beloved and well-pleasing child of God.

The Slanderer really ought to remember that all these lies should have a warning label attached: do not fully immerse in water.

Because your baptismal waters, still clinging to you, still quenching your thirst, still cooling your brow, still cleansing your heart, dissolve any and all lies about who you are, what God thinks of you, and whether you are following God faithfully.

You are God’s child. You are God’s beloved. You are well-pleasing to God. There is no other truth that matters for you, ever.

And Jesus says if you know the truth, you are free. Free from fear. Free of lies. Free to follow Jesus’ cross-shaped path and be who God says you are, for the healing and life of the world.

And the Slanderer has nothing of value to say to you ever again.

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

When you remember that you are mortal, that you will die one day, it frees you up to live as Christ in every moment, every day that you are given.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
Ash Wednesday
Texts: 2 Corinthians 5:20b – 6:10; Joel 2:1-2, 12-17

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

You are going to die. We all are. But that’s OK.

You came here today to remember this. To receive a cross of ashes on your forehead, and hear, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” Today you will see black crosses on every forehead, from the foreheads of 90 year olds to the foreheads of small children. We’re all going to die. And that’s OK.

See, the Triune God has death taken care of. God’s love at the cross proves what was always true: death cannot stop the love and life of the God who made all things. When I die, when you die, there is new life waiting. Death is never to be feared, it’s only a door.

But you need to remember you are mortal so you can truly live in this life. That’s why you’re here today.

Repentance and confession are part of our worship today, and that’s good.

The prophet Joel calls you to turn around, to return to God, for God is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love. And today you and I take extra time to name our sinfulness, seek God’s forgiveness, hear God’s promised love and grace.

But every time you come to worship here you embody repentance. You turn from your daily life and come toward God. To hear God’s voice guide you, challenge you, comfort you. To receive God’s forgiveness and love in Word and in Meal. To be blessed and restored for your journey in God’s way. You don’t need one day a year to remember to repent: your whole life of worship is that repentance. You don’t need one day a year to confess and be forgiven: every day that is your grace to cherish.

And “remember that you are dust” isn’t a threat to push us to reconcile with God, either.

Ash Wednesday has often been used that way. “You’re going to die, so get your act together.”

It just doesn’t make sense. Paul’s call today to be reconciled to God starts with Paul’s conviction that God’s already done all the reconciling needed. Here are the verses immediately before our reading today:

¹⁷ So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; look, new things have come into being! ¹⁸ All this is from God, who reconciled us through Christ to God and has given us the ministry of reconciliation; ¹⁹ that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to God’s very self, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting the message of reconciliation to us.   2 Corinthians 5:17-19

Reconciliation with God is already a reality. It’s what enables Paul to live as he describes in these words to the Corinthians today, through whatever it is that comes, hardship or not, because he’s grounded in the reconcling love of God. You and I and the whole creation are already reconciled in God’s love because of Christ. You’re already a new creation, Paul says: now live as that new creation.

But to live that way, we say “Remember that you are dust.”

Something we easily deny, or forget, or ignore. How much energy and time and money do we spend on trying to avoid aging, trying to deny we are getting older? And why are people surprised when they get a terminal illness? Did they think they were going to be the only one to escape dying? Obviously the timing of death can be a surprise and a grief. But death itself seems to be a surprise to nearly everyone. Most live as if they’ve got all the time in the world.

But when you remember that you are mortal, that you don’t get out of here alive, your life becomes gift. You’re not afraid of the outcome, of death itself – God’s already got that in hand. But if you also simply said every day, “I am going to die, so today I’m going to live fully and wholly,” your life would be demonstrably better.

Some of the most beautiful people of faith I’ve been privileged to serve as pastor have taught me this, again and again. When you accept that you will die one day, that’s when you truly start to live.

There is joy and freedom and life in “remember that you are dust.”

We start Lent, our yearly reflection on our baptismal identity, remembering that we are going to die because we need to remember we don’t have indefinite time to live. If you’re going to live as God’s baptized child, the time is now.

I know I am going to die. I don’t know the timing, obviously. But knowing the truth means I’m not afraid of dying. I just know at some point I won’t be able to love, to live, to help people, to be kind. I won’t be able to say the things to my loved ones I want to say, or make a difference in the world in God’s love.

And that’s deeply freeing. And a cause of joy. Because I can greet each new day with thanks that I have it, with no promises of tomorrow. If I live long enough for parts of my body to wear out, hurt, need repairing, I’m not surprised – I know this body can’t last forever. If it turns out death will come much earlier to me than I hoped, I can handle that because I’ve known all along that it was coming.

My life definitely has an endpoint. So now, now is the time for me to live as Christ.

Remember that you are going to die. So you can really live.

That’s the joy of the Christian life. When the outcome of death is no longer to be feared, because you will live after you die in Christ, and you find the acceptance that you will not live here forever, you are free to be Christ, to live as Christ, in ways you’ve never dreamed.

Beloved child of God, you’ve got today to be Christ, you know that much. Start there, and live.

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