sermon

We don’t need to look to heaven to find God’s clarity, God’s presence, God’s guidance: the reign of God is in you and me and here it is on earth as it is in heaven.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Seventh Sunday of Easter, year A
Texts: John 17:1-11; Acts 1:6-14

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

There’s a lot of looking up to heaven in our readings today.

The women and men who climbed the Mount of Olives with Jesus only to see him ascend just stand in place, looking “up to heaven.” Until a couple angelic-looking folks in white robes chide them.

And Jesus, the night of his betrayal, after three chapters of teaching, encouragement, commandment, exhortation following the footwashing and meal, “looked up to heaven,” John says, and began to pray.

They’re two very different ways of looking. The disciples are looking up to heaven because that’s the last place they saw Jesus. They look up because with Jesus they had answers to their life. They knew God’s presence. They had direction and guidance and a purpose. And now, just as they’ve gotten used to having him back, he’s left them.

But Jesus is looking to heaven in prayer to complete his work of bringing heaven to earth.

This prayer in John 17 is all about the unity of God with us. Jesus prays of his oneness, as God’s Son, with the Father, the First Person. He’s already promised to send the Holy Spirit. But now Jesus specifically prays that the unity of the Triune God’s life be extended to us, that we’ll be brought into the intimate heart of the Triune God. Will be one with God, as God is one. Right here and now, on earth. As in heaven.

So we don’t need to look to heaven for answers.

These first believers shared our anxiety and confusion about life, about the world, our worry about injustice and oppression that was beyond their ability to fix. About things that felt beyond their comprehension or coping. And Jesus helped them find answers, was God’s wisdom and clarity in anxiety or confusion.

But Jesus promised that we would not be orphaned. That the Advocate, the Spirit, would come and teach us what we need to know when we need to know it. He said there were things we might not be able to handle right now but as we live in Christ, the Spirit would keep showing us new things.

We have the same gift the first believers did – the Spirit of Christ with us, helping our understanding and clearing our confusion. We don’t need to look to heaven for answers when the Triune God is with us here.

And we don’t need to look to heaven for God’s presence.

That Jesus ascended away from them must have been a shock and a sadness to that little group. He was God’s presence for them. Being with him made them know God, feel God in their lives. Jesus said, if you know me, you know my Father already.

But Jesus promised that we would not be orphaned. He said “I am with you always, to the end of all time.” He said, “don’t let your hearts be troubled or afraid. The Holy Spirit is coming to you and will be in you.” That’s Christ’s gift: God is as near to you as your heart. Even when you can’t always feel God, as we learned last week. The Spirit lives and moves and breathes in you, and in God you live and move and have your being.

We have the same gift the first believers did – the Spirit of Christ with us, God in our hearts and lives. We don’t need to look to heaven for God when the Triune God is with us here.

And we don’t need to look to heaven for guidance, for purpose.

As hard as it was for them to follow, to get it right, and not make mistakes – and they made plenty – those women and men who first followed Jesus at least had him there to guide them. To invite them to a path of love of God and love of neighbor. To call them to their purpose in life. They knew why they were created and what they were created for, and if they struggled with that, Jesus would help them see again.

But Jesus promised that we would not be orphaned. He said that the same Spirit who fills us with God’s presence and clears our confusion will also guide and direct us. And he left all his teachings to shape that guidance and direction. Love God and love your neighbor. Love your enemies. Feed Christ’s sheep. Tend the flock. Be Christ’s presence in your life. And what that means for you, how that looks, the Spirit will give you. Always.

We have the same gift the first believers did – the Spirit of Christ with us, showing us the way to walk, our purpose as Christ in the world. We don’t need to look to heaven for guidance and direction when the Triune God is with us here.

“Why do you stand there, looking up at heaven?” we’re asked. “God is here with you.”

You pray this prayer as often as you pray anything, that God’s reign include you and that God’s reign will come “on earth as in heaven.” That God’s will will be done “on earth as in heaven.”

Every moment, every day, every breath. Every thought, every action. All are lived in God, who lives in you. Who clears up confusion. Who is present in every thing you are and know. Who guides and leads you.

So when you do finally get to heaven, living in Christ’s great promise of life with God after you die, it will be familiar ground, beloved territory, because you’ve been living in heaven with God here on earth, and have been God’s blessing to bring heaven to earth for the people you’ve loved and served and cared for.

You are not alone in this world. No one is. And in that heavenly truth, you will find abundant life here, on earth.

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

King Saint Erik’s death on the Feast of the Ascension in 1160 invites us to consider what kind of King Jesus is, and how that compares to the leaders we follow. Jesus is a different kind of ruler, and so his followers live a different kind of life.

Erik C. Nelson
Feast of the Ascension
14 May 2026
Texts: Acts 1:1-11; Psalm 47; Ephesians 1:15-23; Luke 24:44-53

—
Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
—
I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this church has a lot of Eriks. And while all of our parents had different reasons and inspirations behind our names, the popularity of the name goes back to one person, King Erik XIV, the patron saint of Sweden, who died on the Feast of the Ascension in 1160.

If there’s one thing to know about his life, King Erik was someone who clearly had an eye on his legacy. He wanted to make a name for himself.

He fought through a bloody civil war, eventually ending up on top. He wrote a new legal code for his domain.

He also launched the first Finnish Crusade, leading Swedish soldiers to Finland, to demand that the Finns became Christians or face death.

The chronicle of a prominent monastery recounts how he harassed the monks there, demanding they listen to him, pay him tribute, submit to their “good Christian king.”

As followers of the risen and ascended Christ, we know that these actions are not consistent with who we know Christ to be as our King. A godly king would not spend his time harassing monks and launching crusades.

On the Feast of the Ascension, 1160, King Erik’s violent reign finally caught up with him.

About halfway through the mass, in the Cathedral at Uppsala, he heard that a Danish rival had arrived to challenge him. Everyone expected Erik to get up and go fight him, but he stayed through the end of the liturgy.

I like to imagine that in hearing today’s Scripture lessons about Christ our King, the only one who reigns over all the nations, he started to get a glimpse of what Christ’s kingship really means.

It took him his whole life, but he finally, as he was facing certain death, he finally knew what it meant to be a king like Christ. It wasn’t about imposing his will over the people. It wasn’t about leading a crusade.

To lead like Christ means to serve like Christ … sometimes, to die like Christ, laying down your life for your friends. Sacrificing everything so that others can live.

After the mass was finished, Erik went out the door, met his rival, and was killed. The legend goes into too much detail about that, but I see in his choice, a change in him.

Instead of leading an army, instead of getting all the people there together to fight and die on his behalf, he went out and gave himself up for his friends, preventing greater bloodshed.

His attempts to claim a legacy for himself, especially the crusade, they’re now looked back upon with scorn and dishonor.

What he’s remembered for is that last moment, laying down his life for his friends.

In our first reading, the reading from Acts, we see the disciples acting like King Erik. They hear Jesus make this wonderful promise of the Holy Spirit, and they respond by asking him if this is the time he’ll restore the kingdom.

They’re hoping that this is finally the moment they’ve been waiting for, looking for Jesus to cast out the Romans and rule like King David, or like King Erik.

But he sees that they still don’t get it, and he gently redirects them, saying that that it’s not for them to know what the Father has in store, but reaffirms his promise that the Holy Spirit will come to them, to give them power and comfort as they go do the work of the reign of Christ.

This reign of Christ, they heard about again and again in Jesus’ teachings, is not about imposing our will on others or using violence to force people to say what we want them to say or believe what we want them to believe.

This reign of Christ is about Christ. And Jesus says that he came not to be served, but to serve. He is a humble king, who we are invited to emulate.

So today, on the Feast of the Ascension, it feels a little off with all the imagery of Jesus the King of the Universe, seated at the right of the Father.

And this is an eternal truth of him, and who he is for us.

But when we look only at Jesus reigning in glory, like the disciples who were stuck on the Mount of Olives, staring into heaven, we lose sight of what really matters.

The angels told the disciples. “Why do you stand looking up toward heaven?”

Jesus is gone from them, from us, and it’ll be quite a while before he returns again in the same way.

But as we wait for his return, don’t just stay there, looking for him in the heavens, waiting for his glory.

Look for him where he promises to be.

Look for him in the bread and wine of communion, the body of Christ that makes us the body of Christ. And then we leave our Mount of Olives, to look for him elsewhere.

Go out and look for him in the faces of the hungry, the thirsty, the naked, the prisoner, the stranger, the widow, the orphan, the outcast.

In Matthew 25, Jesus says that whatever we did for the least of these brothers and sisters, we did it for him.

Look for Jesus in the face of the outcast. Get down on your knees and wash some feet.

It took King Erik his whole life to realize that he was building the wrong kind of kingdom. The disciples, stuck on the hill, staring toward heaven, were looking for the wrong kind of kingdom.

We aren’t supposed to be looking for a Christian nation because Jesus says that the Kingdom of God is already here.

The reign of Christ has already come, not in an earthly government, but in the people of God, the ones who have inherited God’s glorious riches. Those riches aren’t gold or silver, but instead they are the knowledge, the truth, of God’s love.

The one who stretched out the heavens, who created the galaxies, and the seas, the one who now is reigning at the right hand of the Father, is our own brother, who loves and cares for each one of us.

Jesus Christ is the name above every name, and when we know how much he loves and cares for us, we’re free.

We’re able to take a breath. We’re able to loosen our grip. We can stop hustling and start trusting.

We’re freed from the need to get our own way. We’re freed from the desire to make our own name.

We’re freed to look for Jesus, not in the air, not in glory or power or majesty, but in the most unlikely places. In the face of the stranger, in the face of the outcast, in the face of our friends, in the face of our enemies.

We’re freed to love, not because of some demand from on high, some command from a king, but because we know that we are loved.

The immeasurable riches of God, given to us in Christ, means the only name we have that really matters is Beloved Child of God.

Thanks be to God.

—

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

No one in this world is an orphan: the Triune God’s love includes the whole world, all people, all things, and the Spirit of God is moving and breathing in all, for life and wholeness.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Sixth Sunday of Easter, year A
Texts: Acts 17:22-31; 1 Peter 3:13-22; John 14:15-21 (also John 3, John 12, and Romans 8)

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 not alone in this world, no matter how frightening or lonely it feels.

That’s Jesus’ promise. The women and men who followed Jesus experienced God’s presence, God’s love, God’s teaching, God’s touch, God’s blessing with Jesus constantly.

And now, as he prepares them for his leaving, he says, “I won’t leave you orphaned. I will ask the Father, who will give you another Advocate, the Spirit of truth, to be with you forever.”

That’s your promise, too. And as Paul told his Romans, your Advocate the Spirit lives in your heart and joins your heart to God’s heart. Even praying for you when you can’t.

God’s Spirit abides with you, Jesus says, and will be in you. Forever.

But is Jesus excluding some from this gift?

He says something troubling amidst this promise of a divine Advocate, that “the world” can’t receive the Spirit of God, because “the world” neither sees her nor knows her.

But this is the same “world,” “cosmos,” that Jesus declared in John 3 was so profoundly loved by God that God came in the person of the Son, not to judge but to save, to heal. To bring all back to God.

Is Jesus changing that promise now? Does he not envision the gift of God’s Spirit to all God’s children in this “world” God loves so much? Are some to be left out?

And if the presence of the Spirit depends on whether you know or see the Spirit, can even you and I trust the promise?

See, that’s the problem, isn’t it?

On any given day you, or I, might not experience the Spirit, know or see the Spirit. Moments, times, even, when we aren’t sure God’s Spirit is with us. When we don’t feel the fire of God’s love and grace within. If Jesus is saying you only get God’s Spirit when you can see and know the Spirit, it’s not a promise of forever presence. It’s limited by your own challenges of faith. If having God’s Spirit depends on my perception of God with me, on the strength of my faith in any particular moment, then I have no chance. I don’t have that constancy.

But given everything else Jesus teaches and lives in the Gospels, the idea that some are just not given God’s Spirit makes no sense. “God so loved the ‘world,’ ” Jesus said. “When I am lifted up on the cross I will draw all people, all things to myself,” Jesus said.

And thank goodness Paul was listening.

Luke’s story of Paul in Athens is a ray of grace to every child of God on earth.

Paul’s doing the tourist thing, wandering through this cosmopolitan, pan-religious city and admiring what he sees. Including all the temples and altars to all the various divinities the Athenians worshipped. Including an altar to “an unknown god.”

So when he speaks to them he mentions their many altars and praises them for being so religious. Then he talks of this unknown god, who is the God of the universe Paul knows and proclaims, who came in Christ Jesus, taught, lived, loved, died, and rose from the dead.

But then Paul quotes from two of their Greek philosophers, one of whom said, “in God we live and move and have our being,” and another who said, “we are the offspring of God.”

And Paul says, exactly. This God whose love is known in Christ is the same God at the beginning of all time, who made the ancestors of everyone on this world. Who is the God of all. There are no orphans, anywhere. All are children of this unknown God, who is now made known in Christ Jesus.

And, Paul says, this God hopes that everyone finds God somehow, even if they have to “fumble about” to do it. But whether or not they find God, everyone belongs in God’s love.

So basically Paul says that Jesus was right in John 3 and John 12, and Jesus means it: the Triune God’s love is for the whole “world,” all God’s children.

Full stop. No exclusions.

And Jesus also is clear, by the way, that just because on any given day you can’t know or see the Spirit, it doesn’t mean the Spirit isn’t there. In John 3 he told Nicodemus that the Spirit is like the wind. You can’t see wind but you can see where it’s been. So you can see the Spirit by signs of where she’s been. But think of wind: it’s just air. And sometimes you can’t feel a single breeze. But you are still breathing that air.

So for you, and for all, this is the promise: no one is left orphaned by God. God’s love and God’s Spirit are for all and in all, forever.

And Christ would love for you and me to imitate Paul.

It’s what Peter’s talking about today, too. He says, “Always be ready to make a defense of your trust in God when someone asks you about your faith, but do it with gentleness and respect.” Paul couldn’t have been more respectful and gentle with the Athenians. He didn’t harangue them as pagans who didn’t know anything. He praised their faith, their religiousness, and he noticed something in their faith that gave him a way into a conversation about his trust in Christ for life.

That’s your call. To live in such a way, in the first place, that some other person might actually notice your love and grace and your trust in God and ask you “what’s that all about?”

And then to gently, respectfully, listen to them. Notice them. And find a way to share what you know about God’s love for them and for the world.

You are not alone in this world, no matter how frightening or lonely it feels.

No one is. There are no orphans in God’s love. No people you can safely put outside God’s care. No enemies you can confidently trust are not in God’s embracing, loving arms.

So go from here confident that God’s Spirit is yours and is always with you. Even when, especially when, you can’t see or know her. When the air doesn’t seem to be moving.

And then find a way to let others know they’re not alone, either. Then you’ll be the blessing God has always known you could be for the healing of this world.

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

God builds us into a spiritual house, centered around Christ our Cornerstone.

Erik C. Nelson
3 May 2026
Texts: Acts 7:55-60; Psalm 31:1-5, 15-16; 1 Peter 2:2-10; John 14:1-14
—
Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

—

Today’s gospel reading is a beautiful one, one that I’ve heard many, many times at funerals.

It’s a beautiful reminder to hear from Jesus that the reason why he has to leave was to go prepare a place for us, with his Father.

When we hear Jesus say this, we have hope of heaven, eternal safety, and security. And I want to affirm again and again that this promise from Jesus is true, and that when our time on earth comes to an end, God promises that we will be welcomed into an eternal home with our Heavenly Father.

But when Jesus talks about this eternal home, I don’t think it’s meant to be only heard about at funerals or interpreted in eschatological terms. It’s not just about the end of the world or what happens to us when we die. The hope that Jesus gives us isn’t only for the future.

The hope that Jesus offers us has meaning for us today.

Jesus says that he’s going to prepare a place for us in the Father’s house, and he says that with an eye toward Pentecost.

He talks about how the Father dwells in him and he dwells in the Father. And then in the verses just following today’s reading, he says, “I will ask the Father, and he will send you another Advocate, to be with you forever. This is the Spirit of Truth.”

Jesus’s promise to go prepare a place for us in the Father’s house can’t be separated from his promise to send the Holy Spirit.

And Jesus’ promise to send the Holy Spirit indeed came true. It came true in a huge way at Pentecost, which we will commemorate in a few weeks.

And it came true at our baptisms when we, just like Meredith this morning, heard, “You are sealed with the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever.”

The Holy Spirit came down to us then, and the Holy Spirit continues to come down to us all the time, in constantly surprising and unexpected ways.

And our reading from 1 Peter invites us into another surprising and unexpected thing.

Peter describes us as living stones. Which is simply impossible. Stones by their very nature are not alive. And yet it is the truth because as the Holy Spirit is living in us, nothing is impossible with God.

I think it’s kind of wonderful that Peter is the one who tells us this.

Peter is the one who heard Jesus make this promise about going to the Father’s house, and Peter is the one who wrote this letter about living stones and a spiritual house. Peter, whose name means “rock,” surely had plenty of time to think this image through.

I’m convinced that the home that Jesus goes to prepare for us isn’t only our eternal dwelling place where we’ll go when we die.

But it’s a current, present thing. Our Psalm today is one, among many, that describes God as our fortress. God is our stronghold. God is our home.

But this fortress of God isn’t merely a metaphorical thing. Peter tells us how we ourselves are the living stones out of which this fortress of God is built.

Our Triune God is all about relationship. The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit are in an eternal intertwining dance. And the miracle of the Incarnation, of the coming of the Holy Spirit, of the truth of these living stones, is that we are invited to join that dance.

We are enveloped in God’s very being. Just as Jesus is in the Father, the Holy Spirit is in us. God made us for relationship and brings us into the dance.

And so as Jesus promises to go to prepare a place for us with the Father, we are in that place now.

The presence of God is with us in this room.

God will be with us in the bread of communion, the body of Christ that makes us the body of Christ.

And God is already here. The Holy Spirit is living in each of us.

The Holy Spirit is here, enlivening our bones, making us living stones.

And when you bring all these living stones together, the family of believers becomes the house of God. Peter invites us to think of ourselves as the spiritual house, a dwelling place for God, a shelter to rest secure.

This house is built around Christ, our cornerstone. The cornerstone is the first stone laid, and ultimately, the one on which all the rest lean and depend.

So we, as the family of God, we lean on each other through difficult times. We share each other’s burdens because ultimately, Christ is the one we all lean on together.

Christ, our precious cornerstone, carries the burden for us all.

And a cornerstone also is the one that determines the angle, the direction for the rest of the house. Christ is the one who leads our way.

Because this house of God, remember it’s made of living stones. It’s alive, it’s not stationary. It doesn’t just sit in one place. But because it’s alive, because it is animated by God’s presence, it moves through the world.

This house of God is a perfect network of imperfect people, joining with Christ to bring the reign of Christ into this world.

Jesus goes to prepare a place for us eternally, and at the same time, we are invited to join in that work of preparing a place here, for God’s eternal reign.

As we are built together in God’s house, we are invited into God’s way, God’s truth, God’s life.

Jesus is the Way who shows us how to live — a life of self-giving love and care.

Jesus is the Truth who tells us about God’s truest nature — love itself, coming down among us to stay.

Jesus is the Life who carries us through death and into eternal life, and in his love, he makes us stones come to life.

So when we follow Jesus, the way, the truth, and the life, the impossible becomes possible. Enemies become friends. Wars are made to cease. The poor and the downtrodden are lifted up and put in a place of honor.

Stones come to life. Babies and elders are sealed with the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever.

We live in the presence of God. And we are the presence of God.

May it be so.

—

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

Christ offers you abundant life, found in following him into the world and being transformed in the care of your Shepherd.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Fourth Sunday of Easter, year A
Texts: John 10:1-10; Psalm 23; 1 Peter 2:19-25

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

The thing is, you can’t stay in the sheepfold and live.

The idea of Jesus as the Good Shepherd who came to provide abundant life for those who trust in him, and also as the Gate who keeps the sheepfold safe, is a wonderful one. Like our Emmaus story last week, it promises a warm place inside the fold of our Shepherd, where we are cared for and loved. Where we meet God. Like in this room.

And it sounds pretty abundant just to stay in the room with Jesus. But that’s not where abundant life is lived. Last week, the Emmaus couple couldn’t stay in their little home where they met Jesus in the breaking of the bread. They needed to go out, back on the road. To witness to the others, to the world, what they’d experienced and seen in the risen Christ.

And we sang today that our Good Shepherd leads us out on right paths, to still waters and green pastures. Even though sometimes those paths lead through the valleys of the shadow of death, and in the presence of enemies. But it’s only out there that there is food and water and life for the sheep.

This image of a protected sheepfold sounds awfully familiar.

It sounds a lot like the locked upper room in which the disciples placed themselves Easter week.

But Christ met them inside their locked room, and met them at the Emmaus dinner table, and led them all out into new life. As the Shepherd calls the sheep out to pasture. They couldn’t stay locked away, because true, abundant life for them was only found out there. Stay inside, and you eventually starve to death.

And where they found life, so will we.

But if you and I stay locked up, closed in the sheepfold so we’re safe, how can we follow Christ in this world and find abundant life?

If we’ve locked away any possibility of Christ calling us to a new way of being, how can we begin to think about loving our family or our neighbors in the community or in the world?

If it’s off limits, locked away, for God to ask us to change how we react to people, how we treat others, how can we become like Jesus, how can we follow?

If it’s off limits, locked away, for God to ask us to give up getting our own way, to ask us to let it go when others seem to disregard us, how can we become like Jesus, how can we follow?

If it’s off limits, locked away, for God to ask us to understand faith as a calling to love, not a possession that keeps us safe, how can we become like Jesus, how can we follow?

And if we can’t follow, we can’t find abundant life.

Abundant life is when you and I follow Christ out of the sheepfold to be blessed and to be a blessing.

Because living in the servant love of God in Christ for you, such a rich, abundant blessing, only expands and deepens when you share that servant love with others.

When you bear the love of Christ in your life, in your neighborhood, you are blessed in turn. When you are transformed as Christ in a world of pain and oppression and fear, you are blessed while you make a difference and bless others. Whatever life is out there is only abundant when it’s shared, when all are safe, and fed, and clothed, and loved, and blessed.

And you can’t do this, I can’t do this, if we stay locked inside the sheepfold where we think it’s safe.

The good news is, the risen Christ is really good with locked doors.

As much as we think we’ve locked away all our problems and the things we don’t want to change, Christ is already there inside your locked doors, wanting to give you peace. Wanting to fill you with the Spirit. The One who is the Gate can open all locks and call you out of the sheepfold into abundant life.

But your Shepherd will also not force you out, force you to be Christ, force you to follow. Your Shepherd would rather you hear his voice and follow willingly.

There’s a lot that seems unsafe in all of this, and frightening.

Peter today says that suffering for doing good is often the result of following Christ, because Christ also suffered for loving others. We know Christ’s path is a challenging one.

But you are loved by the God who made all things and who cares for you as a shepherd, who is known to you in your Good Shepherd, your risen Savior.

Your Shepherd is standing outside the door, calling to you, to me, and asking us to follow. Don’t be afraid, because even though this path will lead to loss and change and through frightening places, even in your own heart, you are walking with and behind your Shepherd, who faced all such pain and suffering already and is risen. Who will keep you safe: from your enemies – both those inside of you and outside of you – and safe even in valleys of shadow and death. Who will transform death into life and enemies into beloved family.

Listen: your Shepherd is calling. Offering abundant life. Opening the door to go out from here as Christ’s love in the world. Follow, and find that life. Be that life for others. And rejoice in your Shepherd’s abundance.

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

There is no sacred place or secular space: the Triune God is here, with you, in every breath of your life, so keep your eyes open and your heart ready.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Third Sunday of Easter, year A
Text: Luke 24:13-35

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

The disciples knew Jesus in the breaking of the bread.

This moment in a little house in Emmaus is so moving to us, so true to our experience and the experience of the Church for millennia, those words are a beloved phrase in our grammar of faith.

This couple, after walking a few hours from Jerusalem with a stranger who engaged them in conversation, invited him into their home. Certainly to stay the night, but of course they first offered him a meal.

And when he, as guest, broke the bread, their eyes were opened, and they recognized Jesus.

And as we gather at Jesus’ Table again today, we live in anticipation and hope of this truth happening again, one we’ve experienced over and over. We will know Jesus in the breaking of the bread.

But here’s the great wonder: they already had known Jesus that day.

When he vanished, they realized it clearly. “Weren’t our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the Scriptures to us?”

Their eyes might have been closed on the road. But their hearts weren’t. Their hearts knew Jesus was walking with them those seven miles. Encouraging them, listening to their grief and pain. Opening their hearts and minds to God’s Word and how it was hope for them in this strange and confusing day.

It wasn’t in the quiet of an evening dinner table that they really needed Jesus. They needed Jesus in the tiring trudge of a walk in the dust and stones. In the fear and trauma they felt losing their beloved Teacher in such a horrible way. In the fear and possible hope they felt hearing what some of their fellow women disciples said they’d seen and experienced that morning. And the risen Christ was there in all that.

I’ll never forget the faith I saw in a Bedouin from the Middle East.

This was 30 years ago, in a documentary about the life of these wandering nomads who live much as their ancestors lived for centuries and centuries before.

The interviewer asked this man how his faith in Allah helped him with his daily life, dealing with all the challenges. Basically how he applied his faith to his secular life.

The man looked utterly confused, not knowing what the questioner meant. He said, “There is no place in my life where Allah is not.” He spoke of his entire life lived in God’s presence, every moment, every trial, every joy.

I remember as if it were yesterday that I thought, “I want to have faith like this man.” Not that I wanted to become Muslim. What I wanted was to live with the same awareness of God’s presence in every moment, every trial, every joy of my life. And along with a couple other Spirit-given insights in those days, that began my now deeply rooted conviction that there is no such thing as sacred and secular. If God exists, then all the world is imbued with God, all things live in the life of God, all life is breathed in God’s breath. The Triune God is always on the road with us as much as at this Table in this place.

But our life is kind of a reverse of this Emmaus story.

We start here, in this place. You people have taught me from the first day I came among you as your pastor that here, in this place, you expect to meet God, and you do meet God. You experience this room, this worship, as holy ground. That’s really the secret to why worship here is such a blessing. You gather here fully expecting to be with God, to listen to God, to pray to God, to praise and lament in song with and to God, to see God in each other. Mystery, silence, ambiguity, confusion, none are frightening because you know the Triune God will be here in all of that. With you. With me.

There’s never a sense of indifference or nonchalance of the people of God in worship here. The Triune God meets you here and it’s always a matter of life and death to you. I am deeply grateful for you showing me this and sharing this with me.

So here is our Emmaus table. Except we already know who it is who breaks bread with us, guides us, encourages us, challenges us, leads us in this place.

And that means we already know who it is who is burning in our hearts when we leave here.

That’s the great wonder of our life of faith.

We meet the risen Christ here so we can recognize the risen Christ on the road. We are fed and taught and loved by Christ here so we can open our eyes and recognize Christ’s presence in every moment, every trial, every joy out there, in our lives, in the world. Where all ground is holy ground.

And look what you and I get out there, on the road. A God who opens up God’s will and grace through Scripture to us on our journey, carefully explaining, gently guiding, sometimes shocking and challenging. Jesus didn’t just walk with this couple. He taught them, helped them see God’s grace in a new and beautiful way. And so Christ does the same to you, if you listen and pay attention on your road.

And Jesus also listened to them. He noticed where they were emotionally – sad, traumatized, confused – and met them there. He shared their pain and the beginnings of hope that they were feeling. And so as Christ walks with you on your road, Christ likewise meets you where you are, pays attention to what you’re feeling, listens, cares, blesses.

And best is, you don’t need to do anything to get this.

This couple was going to have their painful, confused conversations as they walked back home, no matter what. It was the risen Christ who chose to show up with them and bless them.

And so it is with you. You’re going to live your life, walk your road, experience all you experience, no matter what. But the risen Christ chooses to show up with you and bless you.

So consider how you might respond. This couple listened on the road, probably asked a lot of questions, too. And then, hearts afire and blessed by this new friend, they invited him into their home.

There’s another phrase in our grammar of faith that’s beloved to us, isn’t there? “Stay with us, Lord, for it is evening, and the day is almost over.” That’s all you need to do. Be ready for Christ to join you not just here in this room but everywhere you go. And invite him to stay with you, in the night of this world and in the days you also have been given.

And be ready for open eyes and burning hearts. Be ready to sent out yourself as God’s presence in this broken and frightening world. It’s going to be amazing.

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