sermon

Christ’s gut-wrenching love for the world embraces us and sends us out with the same kind of visceral love and a call to be Christ.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Third Sunday after Pentecost, Lect. 11 A
Texts: Matthew 9:35 – 10:8

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

Jesus was torn up inside.

We heard, “he had compassion on them.” That’s an OK translation. But this word for the Greeks is rooted in the word for innards, guts, bowels. That’s where you feel compassion. Viscerally, in your guts. And Jesus looked at these people longing for his help, following him everywhere, with needs more than he could count, and he felt their pain in his bowels.

This pain inside Jesus, birthed by love for people with nowhere to turn, no guidance, people who were “harassed and helpless,” ultimately took Jesus to the cross.

And this visceral love of God for you, for us, for the world, is our only hope.

You are loved by God to the depths of God’s guts, when you are lost, frightened, even when you are sinful, complicit.

And the Triune God looks at this whole world, harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd, and is torn up inside. God sees the injustice of our society that if you are a person of color, you can be killed by the police and some of your fellow citizens will say it wasn’t wrong. And if you protest oppression, you can also be killed by federal agents who will not be held accountable.

The Triune God sees the injustice of our society that if you make the laws you get full health care coverage but if you don’t have a job that pays fairly, or you’ve had medical crises before, you could lose your health care. God sees the injustice of our society that believes that as long as the stock market is doing well everything must be fine. The Triune God sees all this and feels it in God’s very guts. Love for George, and Renee, and Alex, and their families and friends. Love for those falling through so many cracks. Love for all crushed by injustice and violence. Love for those who struggle every day for food and shelter. For dignity and safety.

And Jesus, who loves viscerally, commands this: Love as I have loved you.

Feel what I feel in your guts, and act on it, like I did.

Jesus changes his followers from disciples to apostles right here, in just two verses. So far, they were in it for themselves. They were drawn to Jesus, to the love of God he bore. They’d been healed, graced, changed. They found a shepherd to follow. Now they are suddenly sent to others.

Jesus sent them to be Christ like him, because of his deep love for the harassed crowds. He gave them the authority over unclean spirits, to cure every disease, and raise the dead. Like he did. He commanded them to go to as many villages as they could and proclaim by their presence, like he did, that God’s love was with these people.

This is the place we can get stuck: realizing faith is not all about us. It’s knowing you are loved deeply by God, forgiven, transformed, and accepting being sent to others with the same good news of love.

Don’t be distracted by the specifics of this story, either. Look at the greater call.

For example, here Jesus only sends twelve men. There were lots more disciples, women and men. So, we might think, maybe we’re not apostles, “sent ones,” just those original twelve. But Luke says Jesus later sent 70 out. And we just celebrated Pentecost, where over 120 women and men were filled with the Spirit and sent. So, there’s no escaping this, it’s our new role, too: apostle.

But they did things we can’t, we say. We can’t raise the dead, heal the sick. Maybe we don’t have the same call.

But look at what their call actually was: you received my love freely, without payment, Jesus says. Now give it freely without payment. Miracles can and do happen. But even if we aren’t given that particular authority, it doesn’t matter. The overarching command, love as I love, is for all, and can be done by all.

Share my guts, feel what I feel, Jesus says. And then, do what I do. Go and be love.

That’s Christ’s word to you today.

So, pay attention to your guts: what things make you feel like Jesus feels? What tears you up inside, makes you want to do loving actions, and make a difference? What activates your compassion, your guts of love? That’s a good place to start your serving.

It would be easier if we could just come here and hold God’s love for ourselves. But God’s guts won’t let that happen. And, honestly, neither will ours. You’ve already been changed. You know you can’t look away, you know you’re needed.

And hear this: if Christ is sending you and me out of such visceral love, to bear Christ’s visceral love in the world, we’re not going to be left without guidance. Trust that. We are sheep with a Shepherd, and Christ will constantly guide and lead and strengthen. This world, these harassed and helpless ones, matter to God more than we can imagine. God won’t abandon you when you’re sent to be Christ’s love. God’s got too much invested.

So let Christ create a new heart in you that beats as one with Christ’s in love for your neighbor, for this world.

You share Christ’s guts. There’s nothing to do but go and be love.

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

In the midst of a suffering world, Jesus comes to us with healing and grace. In spite of our pride and pretense, Jesus offers us new life, springing up from his endless love for us.

Erik C. Nelson
The Second Sunday after Pentecost, Lect. 10 A
Texts: Hosea 5:15-6:6; Psalm 50:7-15; Romans 4:13-25; Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26

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

“God didn’t make us to hate us.”

That’s a line from the Rev. Lizzie McManus Dail, an Episcopal priest down in Texas.

God didn’t make us to hate us.

This is good news. We live in a society, in a culture, in a religion that too often tells us that there’s nothing delightful in us. That there’s nothing good we can do or anything beautiful that comes from us.

This line reminds us that God, who created the beautiful universe, with planets that rain diamonds and nebulae that glow with every color imaginable, this God who made it all and said it was good, made you, and says you were good.

God didn’t make you to hate you. You bear the unshakeable image of God, and that can never change.

When we remember that this is how God sees us, as beautiful and loveable, we can start to understand what Jesus means when he says, “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.”

We can start to understand what God meant when speaking through Hosea, when God said, “I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings.”

What God wants most is a relationship with us. God wants us to know how much we are loved, and God wants that knowledge to then flow out of us in love.

In today’s Gospel reading, we have three stories of Jesus’ love encountering people in ways that challenge the status quo, that challenge us.

The first people Jesus spends time with are the tax collectors and sinners. Matthew, the namesake of this book and the disciple called in this story, was a tax collector.

They were hated because on top of the imperial tax they took in, they were known to take extra off the top for themselves. So people avoided them, shunned them, hated them.

And the others Jesus was with are identified only as sinners.

And yet these are the ones who Jesus chooses to spend time with. He doesn’t see them as outcasts or pariahs, and instead calls them to follow him. He leads Matthew out of the tax collection booth, and invites him to the table.

Matthew walks away from his life of taking advantage of people and is welcomed into the love of God.

And in response to this grace, the people who should know better, the ones who spend their days in worship, claiming to be close to God, come to Jesus and scold him for spending time with them.

And Jesus responds by saying that he has come to heal the sick. He has come for mercy, not sacrifice. In this, we are reminded that we are in that group that Jesus chooses to spend time with.

We are sinners. We are sick. We all have ways that the things we do and don’t do hurt others, separate us from God, and alienate us from ourselves.

And in Jesus’ loving example, he reminds us that that is not all we are. We are deeply loved. And all that God wants for us is to know that love and to share it with others, that we will be healed, and the world will be healed as well.

In the middle of this conversation with the religious leaders, he’s called out by one of them, who asks him to go raise up his daughter, who just died.

And on the way, he encounters this woman who had been suffering for 12 years, and in her desperation, in a moment of faith, she reaches out to him, hoping that he might help her.

And in this moment, the pharisee and the bleeding woman discover how alike they really are. The unfortunate reality is that the woman’s condition would have kept her away from the temple all those years. The religious and social structures put her and the pharisee in very different positions.

And yet, when they both face moments of great desperation, everything is leveled. The truth is laid bare, that they’re both human.

Whatever structures we set up to elevate some of us over others, the only thing that’s true at the end of the day, is that we’re all only human. And that means we all need healing. And we all are desperately loved by God.

When we’re at our lowest, when there’s nothing else we can do, God invites us to turn our eyes to heaven. God invites us to interrupt and beg for help. God invites us to reach out in faith, hoping against hope, trusting that God will care for us.

God wants mercy and steadfast love from us because God first extends mercy and steadfast love to us. God made us to love us. God didn’t make us to hate us.

After the woman has been healed, Jesus continues on his way to the pharisee’s house. When he gets there, he says that she is not dead but sleeping, and the crowd laughs at him.

Jesus responds to the pharisee’s desperation with mercy, and in return, he’s met with mockery. Nevertheless, he goes in, takes the girl by the hand, and she gets up.

She receives this most miraculous form of healing, resurrection from the dead. And this is the healing that we are promised.

We ourselves will be raised from the dead. Because again, at the end of the day, we are human, we will die, we can’t avoid that. But we know that like the tax collectors, like the bleeding woman, like the pharisee and his daughter, we’re not alone in any of it.

We have God with us who carries us in love now, who will be with us when we die, and promises that the pain and loss that comes in death isn’t the end for us. When we reach the end, all that will be left is God’s love, and God’s promise to us.

God’s grace will meet us there, and will carry us into new life.

God’s grace is already meeting us here, carrying us to new life.

And because we know this grace, because we know that God didn’t make us to hate us, because we have experienced the mercy of God, because God’s love lives deep inside us, God invites us to let that all flow out of us.

Share God’s kindness to a world that is unkind. Extend God’s healing and forgiveness to all people, even when you’re cast out or met with mockery. Bear the fruits of God’s mercy and steadfast love.

And when you reach the end of your rope, when your candle has burnt out, when there’s nowhere else to turn, hope against hope, trust that God’s promises cannot be broken.

God gives life to the dead.

God calls into existence the things that do not exist.

May it be so.

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

God’s essence is a relationship of grace, love, and communion, which then is the essence of the whole universe, and our promise and joy is that we also live in this relationship.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Holy Trinity, year A
Texts: 2 Corinthians 13:11-13; Genesis 1:1 – 2:4

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

Grace. Love. Communion. That’s it.

That’s all you need to know about the Triune God. Not Greek philosophical terms or centuries of systematic theology attempting to define the boundaries of who and what God is, no driving out those people whose definitions don’t fit.

Just grace. Love. And communion.

Only twenty years after the resurrection, Paul blessed his friends in the Corinthian church with these words that say everything: “The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with all of you.”

Are with all of you.

And that’s enough. It’s all you and I and the world need to know about God.

Grace starts it all.

In Jesus we meet the grace of God in person, in our own humanity. And, as Jesus himself taught us, if we know Jesus, we know God.

In Jesus, God-with-us, is endless grace, constant forgiveness, welcome for all who stray. Jesus, God-with-us, entered our life, our suffering and death, loving us even when we rejected God’s love. Everything Jesus taught, commanded, called us into, is wrapped in this grace.

We couldn’t have imagined such grace. Only the Triune God could show it in person, embodied in the Son of God.

And this grace brings you to the love of God.

The cross of Christ as the Scriptures actually show it leads to the certainty that the center of the heart of the Triune God is love.

The idea that God needed a substitute for punishment, needed appeasement, had a wrath that couldn’t be quenched except by death, just doesn’t hold up in Scripture. It’s not the grace Jesus revealed, nor the truth Paul proclaimed so powerfully.

The grace of Christ Jesus fully reveals the undying, self-sacrificing love of the Triune God for you, for me, for the creation. This is how much I love you, God says at the cross. I will die to show the universe my love. To draw all things back into my heart.

The grace of Christ Jesus leads you to the love of the Creator for you. You are beloved of God. All creation is.

And in God’s Spirit we share this grace and love in a communion with God.

The grace of the Son, which led you to the heart of the one Jesus called Father, now joins you into God’s life with the communion of the Holy Spirit.

In the Holy Spirit, God’s new life that gives birth in you and in the world is a life of relationship, communion with and in God, shaped by this grace and this love the Triune God has poured out on the world.

Because grace, love, and communion can only exist in relationship.

You can’t have grace by yourself. Grace can only be received and given in relationship. You can’t know love by yourself. Love can only be received and given in relationship. And communion, by definition, is relationship. You don’t have communion by yourself.

So God exists as relationship: the Creator, the Word, the Spirit, all present before the dawn of time, as we prayed today, all at creation, all still living and moving in the world. Grace. Love. Communion. In an ancient dance between the Three, a relationship that makes God one.

And into that relationship, Paul blesses you and me. “The God of grace and love and communion is with you,” Paul says. Paul claims you and I are blessed to be in God’s divine dance, in the relationship that is grace, love, and communion.

But relationships are challenging, even though they give life.

Relationship means risk and vulnerability. At the cross, the heart of God’s self-revelation, the Triune God is chiefly known to us not as Almighty but as All-vulnerable. To be in relationship with God and each other is to be open to being wounded, to risk for the other. The cross is not only where we find life, it is, as always, the path we walk to live the joy of abundant life in relationship with God and each other and the creation.

Relationship also always involves responsibility for the other. The Scriptures tell us that God’s love for us and the creation is so great God cannot walk away. Will not walk away. No matter how angry, frustrated, disappointed God might be, God’s love means God stays with us. God is responsible for us.

If God, or the other person, or part of creation isn’t related to me, I don’t have to be responsible for it. But once you matter to me, and I to you, once we belong to God and each other and the creation, all things matter. All creation matters and belongs. All our suffering neighbors matter and belong. That’s why we’re responsible for each other, for our neighbors, for this creation.

Grace. Love. Communion. That’s all you need to know.

The deeper mysteries of God’s nature, how the Trinity exists within Godself, we can never know.

But that this Triune God is with you and me and all creation in astonishing grace and infinite love, calling you and me to communion with God, with each other, with the creation, that’s everything this world needs to come to God’s healing and life.

And it’s enough. It’s more than enough.

The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you all. Amen

This is a day we remember that the Holy Spirit is alive and active in all the world, in all God’s creatures, and bringing life to all, outside our control (thank goodness) and renewing the creation.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Day of Pentecost, year A
Texts: Numbers 11:24-30; Psalm 104:24-34, 35b; Acts 2:1-21; John 7:37-39

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 worrying glitch in today’s Pentecost-like moment from the book of Numbers.

Moses is exhausted from leading the people and God, who called Moses to this leadership, offers a solution. Moses will choose seventy trusted elders and gather them, and then, God says, “I will take some of the spirit that is on you and put it on them.” (11:17).

Great, but a problem emerges. Two of the seventy either missed the memo about gathering at the tent of meeting, or were having a leisurely breakfast, and stayed in the camp. But the Holy Spirit followed the list, and breathed into Eldad and Medad just as into the other sixty-eight, and they also prophesied. But . . . in the camp. A breathless runner told Moses, and Joshua indignantly said Moses should shut them down.

Moses wisely knows two things. First, God’s Spirit is above his pay grade. If the Holy Spirit has breathed on these two, Moses can’t control that. And Moses also realizes he’s not threatened by this. This sending of the Spirit was meant to help Moses, and he expansively says, “would that all God’s people were prophets, and that God’s spirit would be put on them!”

But there is something strange in this episode.

It almost sounds like the Holy Spirit is a limited commodity. Moses has a full share of the Spirit. Now some of that Spirit will be taken from him and given to others. So there’s only so much Spirit of God to go around?

There’s other evidence of this in Scripture. Elisha, the successor of Elijah, strangely asks for a “double portion” of the Spirit of God Elijah had, so he can inherit Elijah’s role. (2 Kings 2) And the Hebrews did see some people as clearly having God’s Spirit, but not everyone. Kings, prophets, are regularly described as having the Spirit of God, or, as in Saul’s case, even having the Spirit taken from them.

And then our Gospel seems to imply a limited presence of the Spirit, too: Jesus has the Spirit, but here John says the others don’t yet. Luke is similar. In his Gospel, Jesus is filled with the Spirit to do all he does. In Acts the parallel is now it’s the believers who’ve received the Spirit and do amazing things.

So, on this Day of Pentecost, are we to believe that either the Spirit is in limited supply, or that until somehow a person is given the Spirit, they are Spirit-free?

Not in the least. Since we read the whole of Scripture, we know better.

We know that in Genesis 1 God’s Spirit is already there, filling the creation, blowing over the face of the water. In the Pentecost story, Peter quotes the prophet Joel that God will pour out the Spirit on all people of all kinds. Other prophets say similar things.

Jesus himself, in John 3, speaks to Nicodemus of the Holy Spirit as a present reality. Like the wind, Jesus says, you can’t see the Spirit directly but you can see where she’s been. And Jesus invites Nicodemus to be born of water and the Spirit. There’s no limited commodity here for Jesus. Air and wind are everywhere, and so is the Holy Spirit. And if the Spirit is everywhere, you’re never not in the Spirit’s presence.

So today we celebrate the “coming” of the Spirit.

But, given the witness of Scripture, Pentecost is not the first arrival of the Holy Spirit among the believers. It is a critical moment when they saw evidence of her (and Luke says they literally heard wind!) In this moment they had undeniable evidence of the Spirit in their lives, through language, fire, sound of wind. But the Spirit was always with them, even before.

So, when I lay hands on someone’s head at their baptism and pray that they receive the gift of the Holy Spirit, I’m not arrogantly claiming that until this moment this child of God wasn’t filled with the Spirit. I’m simply naming the promise, calling on the Triune God to keep that promise, and asking directly that the Holy Spirit fill and sustain this beloved one. Even though the Spirit already and always has been filling and sustaining them. Even though there was never a time they weren’t God’s child.

But there’s one more thing about the Spirit the Scriptures are clear about.

Not only is God’s Spirit moving in all everywhere, we have no control over the Spirit in any way.

Moses taught us this. The Holy Spirit is way above our pay grade. And sorry, Joshua, but no amount of indignation is going to help. The Spirit will and does move among all God’s children wherever and whenever she wants. Jesus has invited us to look for the evidence, and says we’ll be able to see it. And Pentecost reminds us that we can ask for the Spirit to come as a way of claiming the same promise and filling that happened in those first believers on this amazing day.

What we do today, and all days, is name the Spirit when we see her working, and rejoice.

We rejoice in this spectacular moment in the early Church.

We rejoice for this day when we do see the Spirit at work among us, in Elena and Lucy, and in our midst, reminding us that the world is not abandoned. That even as we see the Spirit here today, feel her breath, the joy of God in this service, we know she is moving throughout the world for healing and hope.

We rejoice in the psalmist’s promise, joining Joel, Moses, and Jesus, that, as we sang, all creatures look to God for life and sustenance and God sends forth the Spirit, and all are created anew, and the face of the earth is renewed.

And we rejoice, you rejoice, that you are never alone in this world. No one is. God’s Spirit is as near to you as your heart, as near to the world as the hearts of all God’s beloved children.

So let us pray.

Come, Holy Spirit. Even though we know you are always here, still we say, Come, Holy Spirit. Fill our hearts and lives with your strength, your courage, your joy, and give us faith, that we might be your flame of hope in the shadows of this world, until all is made new. In the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

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

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

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