The Supreme Court Hearings, the Corrupting Power of Sin, Jesus's Victory over Hell, and the Healing Power of Resurrection Community

The Corrupting Power of Sin and the Healing Power of CommunityA sermon preached for the 19th Sunday after Pentecost on Mark 9:38-50 and James 5:13-20 on September 30, 2018 at St. Luke's Lutheran Church, Richardson, Texas

Because this week's news has triggered many of survivors of assualt and abuse I offered this "trigger warning" after the Children's Message and before the Gospel reading:

Before we hear the Gospel lesson and sermon, I want to let you know I’ll be talking about what’s happened this week with the Supreme Court nomination. Given our Gospel reading today, we can’t avoid it. I will also share some of my own experience with misconduct. I want you to know ahead of time as a trigger warning or if, for whatever reason, it’s not something you or your child can hear today. You can slip out during the Gospel Alleluia, listen from the Gathering Area and return for Communion, or read the sermon on-line later. As always, I am available to listen to whatever issues this week’s events or today’s message brings up for you.

In the Christine Blasey Ford/Brett Kavanaugh hearing this past week, we’ve certainly had a powerful reminder of the corrupting power of sin. Someone, Dr. Ford is certain that is was Judge Kavanaugh, sexually assaulted her 35 years ago. That horrific event still resonates and impacts her life. Judge Kavanaugh is appalled that he is being accused of this act. There is anger and pain and acrimony on every side. But what strikes me is that regardless of what happened and who did what, we can see the power sin has, not only in a moment in time, but for years and years to follow.

Jesus knew how severe the effects of sin can be—and to make sure his disciples and we understand this, he used extreme language and extreme symbols in our passage from the 9th chapter of Mark’s Gospel.

First, Jesus is holding a child—it doesn’t say this in our passage, but in the verses just preceding which we heard last week, Jesus took a child and put her among the disciples admonishing them that to receive a child is to receive him and indeed, to receive God, giving children an almost sacramental status. Scripture gives no indication that Jesus put the child down, so as we hear today’s verses, we do so imagining that Jesus speaks with a toddler in his lap.

The second extreme image Jesus uses in this teaching is the word, “hell.” The Greek word here is “Gehenna” or "Valley of Hinomm" in Hebrew. Gehenna is a small valley southwest of ancient Jerusalem where two kings of Judah, Ahaz and Manasseh, sacrificed their children to the Canaanite God, Moloch using fire. Such practice was forbidden in Leviticus, condemned by the prophet Jeremiah, and many believe that the story of Abraham preparing to sacrifice his son Isaac was recorded as a polemic against child sacrifice in the ancient world. Leading up to Jesus’ time, the valley of Gehenna could have become a refuse dump with smoldering fires, explaining its later association with hell and the place that the wicked go. In the Gospels, Jesus uses this term “Gehenna” or Hell, to refer to life that is opposite from the kingdom of God, a life that is separated from God and against God’s will, as in child sacrifice.

Jesus’ first century audience would have immediately understood his vivid messages about Gehenna as he held a child, warning others against sin, and against being cast into the valley where some of Judah’s kings separated themselves from God, God’s will and God’s kingdom. This also underscores why, later in Mark 10, Jesus tells us we must become like a chld in order to enter the kingdom of God--their natural trust and belief is sacred, is a model for the rest of us, and constitutes egregious sin to break their trust in God.

Finally, Jesus drives home the corrupting power of sin and human brokenness by using violent and disturbing language about cutting off one’s hand or foot or cutting out one’s eye if they cause us to sin. I remember a psychologist I worked with at a state psychiatric hospital during seminary who commented that she really wished Jesus had not said this, because those who are not in their right mind, take these words literally.

Jesus does not intend us to self-mutilate as penance for sin; he uses hyperbole or extreme exaggeration to make clear an essential teaching about the kingdom of God and what it means to follow him. Human brokenness and sin are so corrupting and damaging, we need to take great pains to avoid hurting others, especially children and others who are the most vulnerable in society.

Jesus uses this graphic and disturbing imagery to say in no uncertain terms that choices have consequences, that our behaviors lead to outcomes and we need to pay attention to the damage to others those outcomes might create. Our sinful choices and behaviors cause others to suffer. And other people’s sin and brokenness causes us to suffer. This is the shadow side of free will that we don't talk about much. We suffer from others’ sin and others suffer from our sin. That’s hell. That’s an experience of separation from God. We don’t need to wait until after death to experience hell, we do so right now in anything that separates us from God’s love. Jesus does not want us to miss the seriousness of this aspect of human life.

This is what we’ve seen played out on the national stage between Dr. Blasey Ford and Judge Kavanaugh. No matter what your views are politically, we cannot come to worship today as Christians and avoid the truth that we suffer from the consequences of each other’s sin, and those consequences can be deep and long-lasting for everyone.

It’s only since the recent #Metoo movement began that I have begun to understand the impact of some of my own experiences. I frequently experienced sexual harassment in seminary, on internship and in my first call, especially when I was the first woman clergy many had encountered. I have never told this story publicly, but the most egregious instance took place on internship when I naively invited a colleague over for dinner. He was a married pastor with a child whose family hadn’t moved to the area yet, and I was a wide-eyed seminarian, anxious to learn from someone older and wiser than me. I had supper and learning on my mind, but he had other ideas. First he tried to get me to smoke pot which I declined, and then he propositioned me physically and explicitly. Fortunately, it did not turn into assault and he left when I asked him to.

I reported him to my supervisor the very next morning, expecting that he would be severely reprimanded for this grotesque breach of trust and professional conduct. Later I was told that I had “misunderstood his message.” The man took off his shirt, laid on my bed, and asked me to touch him; I didn’t misunderstand the message, but that was the end of it. For the rest of my internship, I was not able to make any visits to our members at the nursing home where he was a chaplain. I didn’t tell anyone else, except eventually my husband, because I learned that to do so meant I would be dismissed and belittled.

It wasn’t until this year that I realized that one of the consequences of this experience and the many other instances of sexual harassment by male clergy (whcih are too numerous to detail this morning), was that I have only pursued solo calls—I never allowed myself to try team ministry because I didn’t trust any male senior pastor to behave, or to believe me if I reported misconduct. If that wasn’t enough, just last June in spiritual direction, I uncovered that one of my struggles with losing weight and keeping it off is rooted in a decades-old fear that if I do, I will become a target for more sexual harassment. Over and over in my ministry, I have seen that extra weight and even obesity is often a form of protection for survivors of abuse, but I never once thought to apply it to myself.

I tell this story to remind myself that others’ sins who have had an impact in my life, do not define who I am. I also tell this in hope of giving courage to others here to share their story—if not with me, then with someone you trust. Sometimes we need to witness the story of someone we know in order to have the courage to come forward, and if my experience helps one person tell their story, then it’s worth both our discomfort (and believe me, I am uncomfortable) and our time. 

So where does Jesus call us from here? First, we need to give permission and courage for survivors of any abuse, male and female, to tell their story, whether it happened 5 days ago, five years ago, 35 years ago or 85 years ago—because the effects of sin remain. I know of all kinds of survivors, including male survivors of spouse abuse. As people who follow Jesus, we are called to create a safe place where incidents are not minimized but rather, taken seriously so that healing and recovery can begin. When we can offer listening and healing as part of our ministry of following Jesus, survivors do not end up dealing with recovered memories decades after the fact.

Second, we need to challenge narrow and limiting concepts of what is masculine and feminine, boxing men out of experiencing and expressing the whole range of human emotions and criticizing and shaming women who express assertive leadership. This is a gift of the LGBTQ community to the rest of us—helping us break out of binary, "either—or" thinking and accept that each of us can be a whole complex of feminine and masculine characteristics. We need to teach about power dynamics, appropriate boundaries and learn how to identify and protect our own boundaries. (Perhaps this also helps the Council understand why I have a statement at the top of every pastor's about appropriate boundaries, and why we need to get windows installed on all of the office doors).

Most importantly, God calls us to live and proclaim the Gospel that sin does not define us or anyone else. Jesus’s graphic language reminds us that it’s not enough for us to try to personally avoid sin, although that’s a start. Following Jesus and living in the kingdom of God calls us to be instruments of healing and hope, creating communities where God’s children know that they are not defined by sin or what has been done to them, but by what God has done for them in Jesus Christ.

Sin does not define you--not yours, not someone else's. Sin doesn’t define Christine Blasey Ford--not hers, not someone else's. Sin doesn’t define Brett Kavanaugh--not his, not someone else's. Sin doesn’t define me, not mine, not someone else's—for my path has led me here, to St. Luke’s and that’s good news! In the Joseph story in Genesis, we haer that what some intended for evil, God can redeem and use for good, and I want to you to hear that being here is part of that good for me.

Jesus’s victory over sin, death, the devil, and Gehenna—or any hell that threatens to separate us from God, has been defeated on the cross and raised victorious with Christ. God calls us to live out this good news in a community of healing, forgiveness and hope—where we are defined by what Jesus has done for us—offering us grace and the power of resurrection in all of life. That's the kind of community James describes and calls us to live in and pray for, as in verse 16, "Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for the one another that you may be healed."

In every situation, Jesus calls us into being as a community of resurrection—a community of hearing the stories, healing the pain, and sharing the hope—that’s what defines us, and that’s a church where spirits come alive!

Image: I have not been able to find the artist for credit/permission and have only found it on the linked site.

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Renouncing Domination

Renouncing DominanceA sermon preached for the 18th Sunday after Pentecost on Mark 9:30-37 and James 3:13-4:3, 7-8a on September 23, 2018 at St. Luke's Lutheran Church, Richardson, Texas.

I didn’t look at the Gospel reading when I picked this Sunday to receive new members. It’s just the best day that worked on the calendar. Had I looked at our passage from Mark and shared with our new members that this is what they’re getting into, I would have expected them to say, “no way!” or as even Christians in Texas say, “hell no!”

• “The Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again”
• "Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all."
• "Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me."

That list doesn’t have a lot to recommend being a follower of Jesus—being killed, being last, being servant all, and making children and other vulnerable of society the most important. 

The disciples are afraid and confused. If Jesus continued down this path, what would happen to the them? Would they also suffer and die? Would they also be expected to hang out with the lowest of the low and the worst of the worse?

In their fear and confusion, the disciples did what most of us do when our sense of security and identity is threatened—they jockeyed for position and power. Who was the greatest among them? Who was more important? James and John, the “sons of thunder?" Or perhaps Peter and Andrew—all strong-armed fishermen. Fighting with each other about who would dominate in their discipleship was more comfortable than dealing with the reality of what kind of Messiah Jesus really was.

This reaction to assert dominance is almost like a human reflex—when we our self-interest is threatened, we try to assert power over others or over the situation with whatever we’ve got—status, wealth, skin color, pedigree, resources, smarts, muscle, education, or communal clout.

We see this pattern repeat itself across cultures and continents throughout history: from personal relationships based on the dominance of one over the other, to whole societies that support systems of violence to keep one group on top: apartheid, slavery, the Trail of Tears, the Holocaust, the Rwandan genocide, the white supremacy movement, and the list goes on. Jesus knows that personal and social dominance has destructive and deadly consequences for those on the bottom. Our passage from James calls this “disorder and wickedness of every kind.”

The irony of this passage is that the disciples exhibited the very behavior Jesus was speaking against. Jesus embodied the kingdom of God as a place that renounced dominance--where everyone has an equal place at the table.
• the tax collector received forgiveness next to the pharisee;
• the woman is healed beside the man;
• the foreigner is welcomed next to the Jew,
• the poor are empowered beside the wealthy,
• the sick and outcast are embraced beside the governor,
• the lame are loved next to the king.

True greatness, Jesus says, is not to be above others, but to be least of all and servant of all. It is not to ascend the social ladder but rather descend it, taking the lowest place and reaching those society has rejected. It is not to seek the company of the powerful, but to welcome and care for the most vulnerable, such as the child that Jesus embraced and placed before his disciples.

Jesus shows that God’s love and forgiveness is completely disconnected from human values of dominance, power, wealth, status and prestige. That’s why Jesus was killed—because he threatened the dominant social position of the religious leaders who had the corner on the market for dispensing God’s goodies—a merit system of blessings according sacrifices made, offerings given, and laws followed.

Jesus wasn’t killed because God needed a human sacrifice in order to love and forgive us. Jesus was killed because he offered God’s love and forgiveness freely to all, especially to those who didn’t “deserve it.”

Radical grace and a level social and religious playing field threatened those who need to dominate others to feel security and identity. That’s why Jesus says that the only way we can see, understand and embody God’s all-embracing love, God’s radical forgiveness, God’s open table, is if we get off our high horse and serve those we think are beneath us.

But when we are used to privilege, it’s hard to willingly give it up for the well-being of someone else, or just because Jesus asks us to. When Dan and I were first married we lived in Detroit. I had served a church there for one year and when he finished seminary, he moved there to join me and look for his first church. Not many people were interested in urban ministry, so we figured he would get a call pretty quickly.

Also, Dan has pedigree out the proverbial “wazoo.” His first ancestor landed in Massachusetts in 1640—and Nathan Hale, Lucretia Mott, Herman Melville, Gerald Ford and whole catalog of other notables decorate his extensive family tree. To top that off, he’s a 6th generation Presbyterian minister and his ancestors started or served churches in more states than I can list, his grandfather served in the Philippines and China, and his father served in the highest position of the national church, equivalent to our presiding bishop. He’s wickedly smart, has a nearly photographic memory, and is tall, dark and handsome to boot (How have I lived with this guy for 28 years?! ;) ). If anybody deserved a call to a church it was Dan Little. That conversation with the disciples about who’s the greatest? Dan had all of them beat in the dominance-game, hands down!

There was one inner-city church in Detroit that was open, and the Presbytery decided that would be a good place for him to go. They offered him the job, they agreed on salary, he signed the papers, we announced at our wedding that after 4 months of looking Dan finally had a call! We flew off to our honeymoon, so relieved that we were coming back to 2 incomes because we weren’t going to make it on my salary alone.

The problem was, the Presbytery didn’t really ask what that inner-city congregation wanted—they just acted like the dominant church structure they were used to being. As soon as we got home from our honeymoon, the presbytery office called and said, “we made a mistake, you don’t actually have job. The congregation really wants an African American pastor.”

Of course, we agreed that was important in their context; we understood the need for an African American pastor, and we didn’t have trouble with that at all. We did struggle with the fact that the presbytery didn’t have the humility to really talk with the congregation before offering Dan the job. Even more difficult was to confront our own assumptions of privilege—that Dan had a “divine right” to a job—and none was forthcoming.

He had to earn some money, so he tried to become a waiter at a very fancy restaurant, but because he had no serving experience, they made him a bus boy. His pedigree, and 4-year master’s degree didn’t matter. Both the customers and the waiters treated him like dirt, and he cringed as the waiter’s mis-pronounced the French wines, resisting the urge to correct them.

Eventually Dan became an interim pastor and became ordained, but losing that job and bussing tables was a crucial learning experience for both of us. “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all." This was not an experience of service that Dan chose, but it has helped both of us choose service rather than domination and self-interest at other times in our life. Through this, Dan gained a necessary experience of humility, of being on a bottom rung, a willingness to learn, an awareness of his privilege, and the ability to choose against it and against his self-interest, for the sake of others.

All of this was crucial for him to serve his next call, an African American congregation on the southwest side of Kansas City, Missouri. Dan entered that setting as a student of the culture and the neighborhood, rather than marching in as the white ministry expert.

Jesus invites us with the disciples, to choose service, humility, equality, and radical grace for everyone—especially those on the margins, whom society has rejected, who live on the bottom rung, who make us uncomfortable or who seem beneath us. Following Jesus faithfully is extending his generous welcome to everyone we meet whether it’s the homeless person on the corner, a neighbor wearing a hijab, someone in the LGBTQ community, or an immigrant who speaks another language.

We can acknowledge and deal with our insecurities and fear, but not allow them to feed dominance-behavior. Rather, as followers of Jesus, God calls us to set aside whatever privilege we have —look others in the eye, and as with our children this morning, be willing to learn, humble enough to listen, interested enough to engage, and fearless enough to love. Then we are “full of mercy and good fruits,” as James says, “without a trace of partiality or hypocrisy.”

When we as the church lead our society in these kinds of behaviors in our daily lives and in our public witness, then those who operate on dominance fueled by fear and insecurity, lose their power to frighten and divide our communities. Then we can proclaim that Jesus’ loving embrace is radical enough to include even them!

That’s the Gospel that’s easy to miss when Jesus invites everyone to the table—the wealthy and the dominant aren’t replaced by the poor and outcast, they are brought together! We are brought together as a community, whose behavior is changed by a love that none of us deserve, putting us on a level playing field where even death itself has no power!

What does St. Luke’s—old and new members alike—say to that? “Hell, yes! and Amen.”

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Youth Sermons after Experiencing the National Youth Gathering!

2018 GatheringLogo colorThe ELCA National Youth Gathering happens every three years, and I was blessed to arrive at St. Luke's in Richardson, Texas in time to join another adult leader and three young women in Houston, Texas June 27-July 1. What follows are the three short talks given by each youth at the worship service sharing their experience! The theme of the Gathering was, "This Changes Everything" based on Ephesians 2:8: For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God.

Caroline: My favorite part of the Youth Gathering was all of the speakers we got to hear. I loved hearing their stories and the struggles they had, and how they got through them. It was inspiring and I left with a new perspective on my faith. Two of my favorite speakers were stolen by the other two youth, but hey, maybe it was a sign from God that I should do my speech on someone else.

So, the speaker I chose was Will Starkweather, who struggled with anxiety and depression, and turned to self-harm to help him cope. It was something he could control in an uncontrollable world. He did this for a while, and finally one day decided to talk to his pastor. He went to him with this fear, and this anger, and this hurt, and this shame that was inside him, and his pastor responded with 4 words. “You’re going to hell.” This broke him.

Will stopped going to church, dropped out of school, fell into a deep depression, and continued to cut. The next two years he tried to get his life in order. He went back to school, found a new church, and was playing guitar in their praise band. He wanted to join the church, but was felt that he was too broken.

Eventually, Will got up enough courage to sit down sit down with their pastor, and for the second time told his story. She also responded with 4 words, but this time those words were, “There’s grace for that.” Those words changed his life, he began to share his story and help others. Will is now a Lutheran pastor!

Whatever we go through, whatever we deal with, whatever mistakes we make, “there’s grace for that!” And that’s something we all need to be reminded of—no matter what, God offers us grace and love.

Ashley: My favorite part of the youth gathering was meeting new friends and seeing old friends. My favorite speaker was a transgender girl who was only a 11 years old. Her name is Rebekah Bruesehoff and she came to the Gathering stage with her Mom, Jamie. Rebekah was born a boy physically, but from a very young age, she knew that she was a girl inside. Her family and school worked with her to make the change physically and emotionally into being the girl she knew herself to be.

I found this to be inspiring because I have a friend who is going through a similar transition. Rebekah helped me to understand it and gave me hope for my friend.

Rebekah and her mom are committed to sharing their family’s story to bring hope and support for transgender kids worldwide. I was amazed at 11 years old that she spoke to us—a stadium full of 30,000 people! But she has already been on TV, spoken to politicians, and has been a positive role model since she was 8 years old.

As Rebekah said to us, "we don't have to wait until we’re all grown up to make an impact, we can be hope for the church and for all people. They need us."

Virginia: My favorite part of the Youth Gathering was listening to all the speakers. They gave me deeper faith in God, and more hope for our church. The speaker who affected me most was Maria Rose Belding. She said that there was more than enough food in the world, but in the US, we throw away 40% of it. The US is not suffering from drought or crop and economic failure, yet 1 in 8 people still need to rely on food pantries for enough to eat while so much is wasted.

Maria quoted 2 Corinthians, where God says, “my grace is sufficient for you, for power is made great in weakness.” At age 14, she started a non-profit called MEANS, which matches retailers who have extra food with food pantries who can distribute it. They have moved 1.8 million pounds of food in their first 3 years!

I found this very powerful because of what she said next. She said she believed she was "shattered beyond all repair." She is diabetic, has major depressive disorder, 8 diagnoses and 9 prescription medications. And the worst part was, in her last two years of high school she was raped by her mentor for thinking she might be queer. When she went to her congregation, she was told she was dirty and unclean, that no one would want to marry her because she wasn’t “pure.”

She then went on to say that, “we are not what has been done to us, but what our Savior has done for us.” There is more than enough hope in the world for us! We are not dirty, used or broken, but we are loved enough by God!"

This was the most powerful story to me. I consider it a beacon of hope for anyone who thinks of themselves broken beyond repair. Through God’s love, we can make a big impact for others like Maria is doing.

Powerful experiences! Our next Youth Gathering is June 29-July 3, 2021 in Minneapolis--we hope you will start planning now to be there, as a youth, an adult chaperone, or volunteer!

 

 

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The Lord's Supper: We Are What We Eat

We Are What We Eat in the Lords SupperA sermon preached on August 19, 2018 for the 13th Sunday after Pentecost on John 6:51-58 and Proverbs 9:1-6 at St. Luke’s Lutheran Church, Richardson, Texas

I like to call this passage from the Gospel of John, “Jesus’s Vampire Diaries.” In the first 52 verses of chapter six—all Jesus talks about is bread—he feeds 5,000 people with five loaves and two fish, he calls himself the “bread of the life” and then, “I am the living bread” and after that, “the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.” We have been hearing about it for four Sundays and there’s one more to go—thank goodness the youth are sharing their experiences at the Youth Gathering next week instead!

In today’s text, Jesus goes from talking about eating his flesh as the bread of life, to drinking his blood—Vampire Diaries. He tells us to “drink his blood” for eternal life. I always find this passage a bit distasteful—sure it’s a metaphor as St. Augustine, St. Aquinas and Martin Luther all believed, but why does Jesus have to be graphic?

We can understand why they were so many who argued with him and balked at Jesus. It’s such a scandalous image for Jews since drinking any blood, let alone human blood, was forbidden by the law in Leviticus 3 and 17, and Deuteronomy 12. Also, as a metaphor, drinking blood was not an image used for receiving divine revelation.

Furthermore, Jesus ups the ante in the way he talks about “eating his flesh.” In the earlier verses in chapter 6, Jesus uses a metaphorical word for “eat,” as in “I’m hungry enough to eat a horse.” But in this passage, Jesus uses a different word for eat, which means to eat physically, not metaphorically. And it’s noisy eating at that, almost like an animal—“to chomp” or “munch.”

Great. So now while we drink his blood, we’re invited to gnaw on his flesh. This was so offensive and hard to understand, that at the end of this chapter, in verse 66, many of Jesus’ disciples (outside of the 12) left and stopped following him.

So, why the offensive and graphic imagery, and why does John include it in his Gospel? Verses 55 and 56 give us insight into what Jesus is really after: “my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink. Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them.”

No one can deny that eating and drinking is necessary for physical life, and Jesus uses this fact of life to graphically show the depth of his abiding presence in us. Leviticus and Deuteronomy affirm that “the life of every creature is its blood” (Lev 17:14, Deut. 12:23). One scholar unlocked this passage for me with this insight, “In the physical realm one of the most powerful examples of shared life is eating and drinking—the laying down of life by a plant or animal, and the inter-penetration of life as molecules are transferred, thereby nourishing life” (InterVarsity Press Commentary).

First, a plant or an animal lays down its life in order for us to eat and survive. We don’t this about his very often, but sacrifice is the basis of the kosher food laws in the Jewish tradition. After eating meat, one must wait six hours before eating dairy. In St. Louis, we lived in an Orthodox Jewish neighborhood for five years, and my neighbor across the street, Ellen, explained to me that keeping Kosher means you can’t eat anything without thinking about it—without acknowledging that a sacrifice has been made for us to eat, drink and live.

This adds meaning to our table prayers, does it not? We pause before we eat, not only to give thanks to God for food and sustenance, but to acknowledge that another part of God’s creation—plant or animal or both—had to sacrifice its life, for our life.

It’s no wonder that Jesus uses the imagery of eating and drinking to call us into an intimate relationship with him! We have the benefit of hindsight, hearing these words after his death and resurrection. In John, Jesus describes that his impending death will become the sacrificial food and drink which gives us life, here and now, and for eternal life! His victory over death restores our relationship with God and will raise us up to new life on the last day.

Secondly, when we eat and drink, our body is changed—"molecules are transferred, thereby nourishing life”—what we eat becomes part of us. Jesus sacrificed his life for us and wants that sacrificial love to transform our own physical reality, and how we experience daily life! Talk about, “we are what we eat!”

“My flesh is true food and my blood is true drink. Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them.” These words provide John’s version of the Lord’s Supper. An activity that’s necessary for life—eating—is transformed into a meal that nourishes not just the body, but our soul, with a love that lasts for eternity.

Salvation encompasses all of life—physical and spiritual—so through Communion, we take Christ and his sacrificial, life-giving love, into our innermost being and let it change who we are today. We become what we eat, abiding in Christ as he abides in us. “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life,” says Jesus. He wants us to see that this eternal life begins now, with our mutual indwelling.

In Proverbs, Wisdom invites us to this same table that foreshadows Christ. Wisdom beckons us to feast on the Word of God, allowing it to change us in our inmost being: “Lay aside immaturity, and live, and walk in the way of insight.” Wisdom calls us to abide in God, to eat the bread and the drink the wine of God’s presence and understanding. With his graphic teaching, Jesus echoes this voice of Wisdom, calling us away from immaturity, discomfort (and vampire jokes), into insight and faith.

So, what does this kind of life look like? What does it mean today to feast on the wisdom of God, to abide in Jesus and he in us, to receive Christ’s sacrifice in our innermost being and let him change us so that we become what we eat and taste eternity? While some saints and mystics of the church prayed for a constant, conscious awareness of God, it’s perhaps better for us to reflect on moments of abiding in God.

When I was in seminary, I met a Melody, who was a couple of years ahead of me, and she shared an experience of Jesus’s sacrificial presence for her. Sitting with a group of female students, she shared her experience of being raped. When her assailant left, she was left lying on her back, under bushes, covered in dirt and shame and pain. And while she laid there, she thought, “Jesus knows what this feels like.” It was one moment, almost a fleeting thought, but she hung onto it, “Jesus knows what this feels like.”

Melody allowed the flesh and blood Jesus into her innermost being; abiding in him and he in her. Jesus’ sacrifice gave her body and soul life in that moment, reassuring her that she was not alone, that Jesus would walk with her in her pain, and that her life was not over. It was a moment of abiding in Christ, “Jesus knows what this feels like,”—a transfer of molecules that enabled her to get up and get help. Melody became what she ate—Jesus’ love and life for her no matter what—and it changed her experience of this tragedy and helped her to heal.

When was a moment for you that Jesus’ presence was experienced, when you were changed inside by love, and able to move forward? It could be a moment of unexpected peace amid turmoil, or a time when you felt really loved, or when you suddenly knew the right thing to do during a time of confusion, or a moment when you were in pain, but didn’t feel alone—moments of eternal life here and now.

“Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them.” My husband likes to tell a joke whenever he eats eggs and bacon. “In an eggs-and-bacon breakfast, what’s the difference between the chicken and the pig? The chicken is involved, but the pig committed.”

Jesus Christ, our Savior who came to us in flesh and blood is committed—committed to sacrificial love and eternal life for us at all costs. Living in this kind of spiritual relationship with the indwelling Christ, is physical, it’s communal, it’s participatory, it’s experiential—it must be all of these things, or we couldn’t become what we eat—Jesus Christ’s body in the world.

For God’s presence in, with, and around us to be real and abiding, God gives us all our senses to make his love tangible—to eat and drink, to taste and see, to touch and feel, to hear and smell, to share and love—not alone, but together as God’s people who embody this committed Christ to one another.

That’s why, two weeks ago, we smelled baking bread as we heard about Jesus as the bread of life. Last week we looked at visual images of a quilt and prayer shawls to see what Jesus as living bread can look like during a crisis.

This morning, Jesus invites us to have true food and drink, to eat his flesh and drink his blood so that he will abide in us and we in him. Instead of serving one kind of bread, Tim and I will have large trays with all kinds of bread—seed bread and cranberry bread, muffins and donuts, whole grain and pita, even vegan and gluten-free breads!

As the body of Christ’s sacrifice is offered to you, pick a bread that tastes like soul-food and salvation, love and wisdom, life and nourishment. Pick a bread that helps you taste and see that the Lord is good. Come forward and ask Jesus to enter your innermost being, abide in him as he abides in you.

And then watch, watch for that holy “transfer of molecules” this week, giving you a new experience or insight, into Jesus’ presence and love for you. Come to the table of Christ, where you will become what you eat, embodying Christ for the world.

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