Christ the King Sermon: Homeward Bound

Christ the King Sunday: Luke 23:33-43

Homeward Bound

Pr. Paul Cannon

Grace and peace Bethany Lutheran Church!

Our gospel reading today, sort of reminds me of when, as a camp counselor, we used to heat the sauna up to like 200-250 degrees (don't try this at home), and then sprint down the hill and jump off the docks into the frigid, recently thawed, waters of Lake Vermilion in northern Minnesota.   

As we plunged into the ice bath, the shock of the temperature change would literally make you see stars. Not that sauna’s and lake jumps have anything at all to do with the text, except to say that reading about the passion of Jesus Christ in November, strangely feels like jumping into frigid waters as we prepare for the warm fuzzy feelings of the holidays.

Today is Christ the King Sunday, and it’s a day where our lectionary – the three year cycle of Bible readings – gives us this out of place text about Jesus being crucified next to two criminals.  It’s like we all fell asleep and woke up in April, just in time to celebrate Lent and Easter (sorry kids, you missed Christmas this year).  It’s the church calendar equivalent of doing a sauna lake jump. You shouldn’t jump into a Minnesota lake in May, just like you shouldn’t jump into the passion narrative in November – especially not right before Thanksgiving and Advent … but here we go.

I will say however that the readings for the day (from Jeremiah and Luke) are appropriate in this sense – that they are about that very human longing to be home, and how God goes about bringing his people – bringing us – home.  

But in order to understand this, you need to know a bit of the history of the Jewish people.  It’s a history of a people and a country constantly being invaded by larger empires because of it’s important location as a trade route between Europe, Middle East and Egypt.  First, the Assyrians conquer Israel around 700 BCE and then it was the Babylonians around 600 BCE and finally it was the Romans around 60 BCE.  And when the Assyrians and the Babylonians conquer Israel, they don’t just conquer it – they exile thousands of Jews.  They force them out of the cities and homes they lived in to resettle in Babylon and Persia.

As you can imagine, many Jews were desperate to return home, but they were powerless to do so.  And around this time, the prophets started writing about their future homecoming.  They started writing about how God would deliver them from exile in a foreign nation.  And they prophesied that a leader would rise up from amongst the Jews to lead them home.

Jeremiah was one such prophet.  So he writes about the sheep who have been scattered all over the land, and God the Shepherd, promising to gather his people together.  Jeremiah writes, “Then I (God) will gather the remnant of my flock out of all the lands where I have driven them, and I will bring them back to their fold, and they shall be fruitful and multiply.” I will gather them and I will bring them back.  Those became powerful words to a people longing for a homecoming.

Many Jews began to expect a King from the line of David to rise up and

save them, but really they were looking for more than a king. What they wanted was a hero – a messiah, a chosen one who would gather the flock of Israel from across the world – so they could be one big happy family again.  

Of course, if the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays teach us anything, it’s that absence makes the heart grow fonder. Everybody misses their family until they are elbow to elbow for eight hours in a small kitchen with them. You go home for Thanksgiving, and pretty soon, your sister starts to boss you around like you’re ten, you’re fighting for legroom sitting next to your brother in the back of the suburban even though you’re both almost 30 years old, and a pie gets burnt in the oven and somehow that’s your fault even though you followed the instructions EXACTLY! Am I right? The Holidays can be stressful, but then by the time you leave you’re hugging each other saying “Let’s do it again next year!”

And though I say that jokingly, the desire to be with family - the desire to be home – is usually strong enough to bring us back, year after year.  There’s just something irreplaceable about being with your loved ones.  I often miss home. My family is scattered throughout the Midwest and California, and then most of my other relatives are in North Dakota and South Carolina.  Home with family is one of the few places can count on being loved despite your flaws.

I’m sure you have your own stories about missing your home – missing your family.  To that degree, we can understand a little bit about how the Jewish people felt – what it feels like to be hundreds of miles from your loved ones, from your friends and relatives.  The Jewish people were searching for a hero to come and bring them back to the land of their birth.  They wanted a homecoming.

500 years later, in comes Jesus.  And this time, it’s the Romans (not the Babylonians) who are in control of Jerusalem.  And though many Jews returned home from exile by this time, there’s still a deep longing to restore Jerusalem to the way it used to be – to restore their homeland to Jewish control.  

And that’s why the Jews welcome Jesus to Jerusalem on Palm Sunday like a King.  They throw branches down in a path to make way for his arrival because they think he’s come to restore their home.  They want a king who can raise an army and take back their country, from the Romans, but as we know, Jesus is not that kind of King. He’s not Ceasar.  He’s not a conqueror.  He’s not the guy who is going to restore Jerusalem to Jewish control.

When the Jewish leaders discover that Jesus isn’t going to be their political instrument of power, they send him away to be crucified – to die next to criminals.  And the Romans, are too happy to oblige them.  Jesus is tried by Pontius Pilate, and convicted, and sentenced to die a very public execution.

“This is the King of the Jews” were the words inscribed above him on the cross.  They were written there so the world could see what happens to would-be king usurpers.  Of course, there is irony in that statement.  Jesus was a King, but he was a different kind of King, just like the cross was a different kind of throne. 

And that’s exactly the point, isn't it? The cross tells us what kind of King Jesus is and isn’t. He is not a king of political power.  He’s not a king of violence. So what is he? I think that our gospel writer is making the claim that Jesus is indeed, the Messiah, the chosen one prophesied by Jeremiah and Isaiah, to bring his people home. Only it’s not the home that they imagined it would be.

In our gospel story, Jesus is crucified next to two criminals.  One turns to Jesus, half mocking, half pleading and says, “Are you not the Messiah?  Save yourself and us!”  If you know the history, you can hear the irony.  The Messiah was supposed to come as a King to bring his people home.  The Messiah was supposed to come and deliver the people from their oppressors – not die by their hands.

But the other criminal sees only an innocent man dying next to him, so he rebukes the other saying, “This man is innocent of any crime and WE, we are getting what we deserve!” Then he turns to Jesus, pleading with him, “Remember me when you come into your kingdom.”  Remember me, when you get home.

This is a statement from a criminal who had lost his way and knew he was a long way from home. This criminal is the prodigal son returning home, back into the loving arms of God, back to into a relationship with Jesus.  And what this criminal recognizes, that nobody else (even the disciples) recognize, is that Jesus true home was with God.

Jesus’ was going home – to his kingdom. Now do you see it?  The messiah had indeed come to bring his people home – only it wasn’t what everybody was expecting.  It wasn’t a place.  It wasn’t a country.  It was a relationship.

You probably already understand what that means.  When we say we are going “home for the holidays” most of us don’t mean we’re going back to the house we were raised in.  If you’re like me, it doesn’t even mean that you’re going back to the state you were raised in.  It means you’re going to be with family.  Home isn’t being at the place you live – it’s being with the people you love.

So Jesus responds to the criminal “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”  Today, you will be with me. Today, you are coming home. 

The beauty of this story is that it totally reinvents all of our expectations for God.  Where many of the Jews were looking for a King to bring them into political power, the cross is a place where the King opens his arms and welcomes his people home.  The cross is the place where God welcomes the lost and they wayward.  The cross is the place where God gathers his scattered sheep.  

Home becomes more than a location.  It’s a family gathering.  Flaws and all!

And in the end, I think that is what we are all really longing for – a place to be loved, a place to be accepted, a place to call home.  I think we find this home in the loving arms of Jesus on the cross.

So this Thanksgiving, no matter where you are, no matter what you’ve done, no matter if you are alone or with 100 people, I pray you know, that with Christ, you always have a home.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

Sermon for the 1st Sunday of Advent: December 1, 2013

Sermon for the 1^st Sunday of Advent

December 1, 2013

Matthew 24:36-44

PREACHER: Pastor Carrie Smith 

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

“You do not know on what day your Lord is coming.” What a very strange thing to hear when all around us the “holy countdown” has started! Only 24 shopping days to Christmas; 15 school days until vacation; 14 days to the Bethany Christmas Pageant; 7 days to the Swedish Children’s Choir Concert; and approximately…20 minutes until the next showing of “A Christmas Story” and/or “Home Alone” on cable t.v. And in case you might forget, here in our worship space we have reminders of the countdown as well. Today, the first Sunday of Advent, we have one Advent banner, one Advent candle lit behind the altar, just one verse of “Light One Candle” to sing, and the worship space is once again awash in blue, the color of Advent hope.

Yes, the countdown to Christmas has begun! So what does it mean for us today to be hearing this particular Scripture text, in which Jesus warns believers we cannot know on what day our Lord is coming? True, this is spoken in reference to the second coming of Jesus, not his birth—but does this text mean we should give up on counting down anything at all? How are Christians to wait in hope of the Lord’s coming when we’re told we can never know when it will happen? Jesus seems to be telling us to wait, but not to get too excited. To be ready, but not to stop what we’re doing. To keep watch, but to understand we won’t know anything until it happens.

This kind of waiting-but-not-waiting is even more difficult to accept because of the fact that we really enjoy counting down hours, days, weeks, and months! During Advent we love to open little windows on paper Advent calendars and eat the chocolate, even if it does taste like plastic; Elf on the Shelf moves around the house; we work our way through Advent devotionals and mark days off on our work calendars. One of my favorite new options for counting down the days to Christmas (though it’s out of my budget) is the whiskey advent calendar from “Master of Malt.com”: 24 tiny tastes of whiskey from around the world, hidden behind little paper doors just like those bad chocolates we grew up with! Yes, it’s a little naughty…but it’s also a little nice, and besides, I have it on good authority that Santa prefers whiskey to milk with his cookies, anyway.

But we don’t just count down the days to Christmas. We also love to count how many months until the baby’s due date; how many more payments on the student loans; how many days until Christmas or summer vacation; and how many years to retirement. Some of you can also testify to what it’s like to count how many chemo treatments are left, and the joy that’s felt when you’re finally done. Amen?

Counting down the days, marking time, and anticipating some future event is one small thing that makes living this unpredictable, sometimes unexplainable, seemingly random life a bit easier to manage. So why does Jesus insist we cannot know the day nor the hour of his return? Why paint pictures of people going about their daily business in the field or in the mill, and the Lord’s return taking them by utter surprise, when he knows this will freak us out? How is this helpful, Jesus?

One answer lies in the fact that in Jesus’ time, as now, there were those who made it their career and mission to predict the end of all things. Just in our lifetimes, can you even count how many “end of the world” prophecies have come and gone? From the year 44 (before the Gospels were even written) all the way to December 21, 2012, there have always been predictions of Jesus’ return. But in spite of their anxious countdowns and dire warnings, all have passed without incident. Our apocalyptic hope remains just that: hope.

So it is into this context Jesus speaks these words: “But about that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.”

Only the Father knows…this a constant reminder to all who seek to discover the holy egg timer that one can never know the mind of God. It is not given to us to know God’s timetable. Whether we’re talking about Jesus’ return and the coming of the kingdom; or the onset of labor, the outcome of a particular cancer treatment, the future of a relationship, or the day and hour of our death, we are like Noah, who knew nothing until the day the rains came and he entered the ark. The one thing we know for sure about Jesus’ coming (and about God’s timing) is that it will be unexpected.

We do not know on what day our Lord is coming. We cannot know what the future holds. But, my friends, this doesn’t mean we stop looking, stop hoping, or simply resign ourselves to apathy and ignorance! Counting down the days, decoding prophecies, making predictions and preparing for disaster is waiting, all right—but it is waiting in fear. Believers, on the other hand, wait in hope. We do not know what tomorrow will bring—but we are watchful and ready. We keep our eyes open for the ways in which Jesus is at the same time here right now, and yet still on his way. And we seek to clear the clutter from our minds so we can stay awake.

Anyone who has ever worked the night shift, sat up with a sick loved one, or chaperoned a youth group lock-in knows some strategies for keeping awake! Amen? But here are a few for us, as Christians who wait in hope for Jesus:

First: Pray. This one may seem obvious! But if we’re honest, we can always use improvement in this area. So during this Advent season, I invite you to come to worship a few minutes early (or stay a few minutes late) and visit the prayer wall at the entrance to the sanctuary. There, you can write your own prayers, as well as read the prayer requests of others. For what do you wait in hope? For what does the world wait? What darkness does Jesus, the light of the world, need to come and banish?

Second: Go about your daily work. Jesus says “Then two will be in the field; one will be taken and one will be left. Two women will be grinding meal together; one will be taken and one will be left.” In other words: The proper thing to be doing when Jesus returns is the work to which you were called. Jesus doesn’t want to see you hunkered down, preparing for disaster, holding your breath for the worst case scenario. Live your life; pursue your dreams; be the person God created you to be.

And third: Get an Advent calendar. In fact, if you could find one, it would be great to have a calendar with chocolates for every day of the year! For I can think of no better way to be ready for Jesus’ coming than to celebrate each and every day we are given. Every morning, open the door of your day to see what God has revealed for you there. Eat that piece of chocolate and enjoy the sweet gift that is life! But rather than worrying about counting down, remember who you can count on.

Sisters and brothers in Christ, just as during Advent we can count on Christmas to arrive right on time, bringing again the joy of Jesus’ birth, so we can always count on God to come through for us again. We may not know the specifics, but we can trust that Jesus always shows up: not just on Christmas morning in the manger, but also every Sunday in the bread and the wine; in the reading of the Word; and in our midst, whenever two or three are gathered. And our faith tells us that one day, in his own time, he will come again in glory, just as was promised.

And so, dear people, during Advent and every day, we Christians wait in hope. All earth is hopeful—the savior comes at last. Thanks be to God! Amen.

Thanksgiving Eve Sermon 2013

Thanksgiving Eve Sermon 2013

John 6:25-35

PREACHER: Pastor Carrie Smith

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

Jesus said: ““I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.”

Today, as I was kneading the dough for my Grandma Golden’s Swedish rye bread—a recipe handed down from her mother and her mother before that and only written down when I requested it—I remembered a conversation with my Great Uncle Walter Salmonson about bread. Uncle Walter (or Valter, as he said it) lived in the nursing home down the hall from my grandpa. On one visit to see them both, I asked Uncle Walter how the food was.

“I don’t like the bread,” he said. 

“Why? What’s wrong with the bread?”

“Vell, it has too much vind in it, you know.”

“Too much…vind?” I asked.

“Ja…too much vind! I like real bread!” said Uncle Walter.

I had never considered my bread to be “windy” before, but after that conversation I took special notice. And you know what? He was right! Our bread does have too much “vind” in it. The perfectly formed, pre-sliced, carefully preserved, fluffy stuff we call bread is full of air. That’s what makes it look so pretty on the shelves and in our lunch boxes! But it doesn’t look anything like the thick slices of rye or whole wheat baked by my grandmother and her mother before her. 

The bread Uncle Walter was hungry for has depth. And texture. And a crust! It makes a strong foundation for slabs of cheese, thick layers of peanut butter, or leftover Thanksgiving turkey. It does not fold nicely, or squish into little balls to flick at your siblings or feed to the ducks, and it will never last for 3 weeks in the pantry.

Uncle Walter was getting fluffy, vindy bread in the dining room, but he was hungry for something that would fill him up. He wanted real bread. 

Sisters and brothers, Thanksgiving is not a Christian holy day or even a particularly religious day at all. But, because this is a day when most of us gather around the table and spend a lot of time thinking about (and eating!) food, Thanksgiving can be a moment for Christians to contemplate what we are truly hungry for.

Like Uncle Walter, we hungry humans want real bread. We want to be filled, and to never be hungry again. But most days, we spend our time chasing after things which never will satisfy our hunger. Day after day, we go hunting for that one thing which will take away the pain, the loneliness, the grief, the fear, and the uncertainty of this world. In that pursuit, we fill our bellies with all sorts of junk food:

Work. Hobbies and distractions of every kind. Shopping and collecting. Anger. Cynicism. Devotion to a particular worldview or political stance. Even good works can become a way of filling the void! But all these things end up being just full of air, and not substantial enough to keep us satisfied even for the day.

In tonight’s Gospel text, we see that Jesus wants to turn the crowd’s appetite from the loaves that merely filled their bellies to the bread that would last for eternity. It’s important to note that this crowd searching for and following after Jesus is the very same crowd that, in the previous chapter, had feasted on the five loaves and two fish with about 5,000 of their closest friends. That meal was so good, so tasty, and so miraculous, that the crowd decided to search for the chef. But when they found Jesus, they were surprised to hear him say: “You’re just looking for me because the last time you saw me, your bellies were filled!”

I can just hear them thinking, “Well, YEAH! Wasn’t that the point? We were hungry, you fed us. It was a miracle! What’s the problem?”

The problem was Jesus wanted the crowd to understand how his teaching, his healing, and his miracles were never the end of the story. Everything Jesus did—including the feeding of the 5,000—was meant to point the people toward God the Father, the creator of all good things, the beginning and the end, the One who gave the true bread of life to the world. Jesus wasn’t seeking followers who were amazed by his miracles or were looking for signs and wonders, but rather fellow travelers who would join him in on the Way, preaching God’s Word of hope to the hungry, the poor, and the captives.

So he told the people: “Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you.”

To which the people replied: “Excellent! Where can we buy it? Is it at Wal-Mart? Does it come in bulk? We want to eat it for every meal! Give us this bread always!”

When you read the Gospels, do ever wonder why Jesus even put up with some of his disciples and followers? These guys were often nothing more than vindy bread themselves! But then, those who followed him possessed the most important thing. They, like us, were hungry: hungry for hope, hungry for grace and forgiveness, and hungry for a life with meaning. 

Sisters and brothers, as we prepare to feast on many good things—pie this evening, and more wonderful things tomorrow—we gather to rejoice that Jesus is the true bread of life. He is the bread from heaven, given as a gift to the entire world. His life and witness, his death and resurrection, are the bread that fills our empty bellies and heals our broken hearts. Especially this season, when we are fed the message that a Black Friday deal or a Cyber Monday steal can fill the emptiness, it’s good to feast again on the words of Jesus, who said, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.” Thanks be to God, for this and every good gift. Amen. 

Sermon for November 17, 2013: 26th Sunday after Pentecost (Stewardship Sunday)

Sermon for Sunday, November 17, 2013

Luke 21:5-19

PREACHER: Pastor Carrie Smith

The first thing that should be said about today’s Gospel text is that this is a speech for insiders. These words from Jesus are literally words meant for the choir – for the believers, the community of the faithful, those who are in the pews or the choir loft every Sunday; these are words for those disciples who have been with Jesus on the journey thus far and seem likely to continue on, come what may. This speech is not, then, a great tool for evangelism. I wouldn’t advise using this bit of Scripture for your “elevator speech” about Christianity, for example! And while it might be more accurate, it’s probably not a good idea for us to put these words on the front of our church, either. There’s probably a good reason we don’t see congregations named “By Your Endurance You Will Gain Your Souls Church” or church signs declaring: “Welcome to Church! Do you see these stones? All will be thrown down!” I think it’s also safe to say that next year’s stewardship campaign will likely not be based on Luke 21:17: “Jesus said, ‘You will be hated by all because of me.’ Please give generously.”

So this is not a warm and fuzzy, feel-good, Joel Osteen-style Scripture text! But this text does tell the truth. And sometimes, the truth hurts.

In this case, one truth Jesus wants to impart is that the things we think are permanent and immovable never really are. Temples, monuments, memorials, family traditions, and even this church will one day be gone. Scripture says “The grass withers and the flower fades; the Word of God stands forever.” It doesn’t say anything about the structures we erect, even those that are meant to honor God! We, like the disciples, admire the beautiful stones, stained glass, and new technology adorning our temples, and Jesus says: “As for these things that you see, the days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down.”

On Friday, I was asked to attend the Board meeting of my alma mater, the Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago, as part of the strategic planning committee. We spent the afternoon talking about how to increase enrollment, how to market the school, and how to ensure its viability for the coming years. And, of course, we talked about the building. The Board talked about plans for replacing air conditioners, upgrading technology, and caring for aging (and often crumbling) student apartments. There was also discussion about how to get decent Wifi in a building designed like a concrete bunker which I have heard called (lovingly by students and not-so-lovingly by the neighborhood) “the Darth Vader School”.

It was all very interesting to observe, but as I listened to the careful planning for the future of these buildings that still feel like a second home for me, I couldn’t help thinking about those pesky words of Jesus: “As for these things you see, the days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down.” This was especially on my mind when the strategic planning consultant asked us to imagine, not just success, but “wild success.” What would “wild success” look like for this Lutheran seminary?

Board members mentioned enrollment increases of 2 percent per year; becoming the “go-to school” where bishops would find their favorite new pastors; having a balanced budget with a surplus; and having a building that grows with our needs. All worthy goals.

But it was just one professor in the back of the room – a professor of church history, in his last year of teaching – who raised his hand to offer: “It seems to me, dear people, that ‘wild success’ would mean students leaving this place equipped to proclaim Christ crucified and risen.”

Well, duh! This seems obvious, doesn’t it? You could hear a collective groan from the Board members, who were just trying to do their important work. And yet, this back of the room comment shone light on a problem that we all can understand: we most often judge beauty, growth, and success as being signs both of our faithfulness and of God’s presence and favor in our lives. Big enrollment equals a successful seminary. Big worship attendance equals a faithful church. Big house equals a happy family.

And if we believe that beauty, growth, and success are signs of God’s presence or blessing in our lives and on our mission, then it follows that persecution, distress, suffering or pain are signs of God’s absence or abandonment. The closing of a seminary, for example, would mean failure. A church that isn’t growing must not be faithfully following Jesus. A family that loses its house must be doing something wrong. In the worst possible example of this logic, we hear of people being told that if they have cancer, they must not have enough faith, or must not have prayed hard enough.

And yet, this is not the truth Jesus was laying out for the disciples in today’s preaching text, is it? Here we have Jesus making his own back-of-the-room comment, attempting to draw the disciples’ attention away from their beautifully adorned temple and instead preparing them for the path ahead. He said:

“Watch out for the doomsday deceivers. Many leaders are going to show up with forged identities claiming, ‘I’m the One,’ or, ‘The end is near.’ Don’t fall for any of that. When you hear of wars and uprisings, keep your head and don’t panic. (Keep Calm, and Carry On!) This is routine history and no sign of the end.” He went on, “Nation will fight nation and ruler fight ruler, over and over. Huge earthquakes will occur in various places. There will be famines. You’ll think at times that the very sky is falling.

“But before any of this happens, they’ll arrest you, hunt you down, and drag you to court and jail. It will go from bad to worse, dog-eat-dog, everyone at your throat because you carry my name. You’ll end up on the witness stand, called to testify. Make up your mind right now not to worry about it. I’ll give you the words and wisdom that will reduce all your accusers to stammers and stutters.

“You’ll even be turned in by parents, brothers, relatives, and friends. Some of you will be killed. There’s no telling who will hate you because of me. Even so, every detail of your body and soul—even the hairs of your head!—is in my care; nothing of you will be lost. Staying with it—that’s what is required. Stay with it to the end. You won’t be sorry; you’ll be saved.”

Conflict, legal problems, family strife, and death—this probably isn’t the vision of “wild success” the seminary’s strategic planning consultant had in mind! And it’s probably not on your wish list for your life, your family, or your church, either. And yet, as believers, when we encounter tragedy or persecution, we do not start shouting loud predictions of the end-times. We do not lose hope! Rather, we stand firm and endure, trusting in our Lord Jesus, who promises that by our endurance we will gain our souls.

As I said before, this is not a feel-good piece of Scripture. But it is a feeling-the-truth kind of Scripture. And the truth, while it can hurt, also sets us free.

Sisters and brothers, the truth which sets us free is this: God loves you! And bad things will happen. Bad things very well may happen because you proclaim Christ, because you speak about him and try to follow him. But even this does not indicate the end, or show in any way that God is not with you. Frederick Buechner said it this way: “Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don't be afraid. I am with you. Nothing can ever separate us.”

And this is why, as believers, we see the present time, with all its difficulty and tragedy, with economic and employment struggles, health crises, and a culture hostile to the Gospel, as being a time ripe for prayer, watchfulness, and endurance, and yes: testimony. This is the time to share our stories of struggle and of enduring faith! This is the time to come out of the closet as believers and followers of Jesus! This is the time to sing to the Lord, for he has done marvelous things! Amen!

So, for a Lutheran seminary, “wild success” might not mean a growing enrollment or faculty or building. But it certainly means growing faithful pastors equipped to boldly proclaim Christ in both good times and in bad.

For a church, “wild success” might mean packing the pews and outgrowing the building and embarking on a capital campaign. It could happen! But it also might mean banding together in the face of a crisis, or faithfully embracing and adapting to a changing culture, or giving ourselves and our resources away as food for the poor.

And I would submit that for Bethany’s 2014 stewardship campaign, “wild success” would not be merely having enough dollars to pay the salaries and cover the bills, but rather means coming together, as a community, to proclaim Christ crucified and risen through the use of our time and talents and treasures. At the end of the day—and at the end of times, when even these walls we love so dearly have come tumbling down, and when the Son of Man comes again to judge the world with righteousness—I believe “wild success” will be judged to be the extent to which we have sent people forth from this place, equipped to testify to the goodness of God, in good times, and in bad.  

So stand firm, sisters and brothers! Do not weary in doing what is right! For by your endurance you will gain your souls. Amen.