Being present in the present: The real challenge of "Always being made new"

Scripture: Revelation 21:1-7

           This year the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America celebrates 25 years of ministry, and as part of this year-long celebration the church has picked the theme of “Always being made new” with the theme verse which we just happened to read today from Revelation 21:5, “See, I am making all things new.” I’m not going to pretend like this isn’t an intentional message for a church that has sometimes struggled to be proactive in anticipating the future. We are being made new every day, but as a church both nationally and locally some of that newness has been challenging. Locally, our churches have had our share of new and difficult challenges in the last twenty-five years. In fact, the one thing I have heard perhaps more than anything else since taking over this call a year and a half ago is that we have been in need of a new start. A year and a half later, some of my newness has worn off, which means with every passing day it’s a little harder to focus on always being made new, to be the church which Martin Luther called “semper reformanda”—always reforming.

            Of course, there is an underbelly to this idea of always being made new; I know some people have a bone to pick with this theme. Always being made new does not mean we do not honor the past; it does not mean newness for newness’ sake; and it does not mean that new is equated with “better” and old with “useless.” We are made new not because new things are inherently better but because, left to our own devices, we make poor choices and are in need of a word of forgiveness every single day—newness every day.

Lutherans are weird

Scripture: Revelation 20:11-15

Being a Lutheran is a strange thing. If you are one you probably know this. We have potlucks and sing German and northern-Europeans hymns; we meet in church buildings with hard-backed pews; we revel in the good ol’ days when confirmation was tougher than school and nobody—and I mean, nobody—dared approach the pastor to ask how he was doing (and it was always a “he”). This is our heritage. It’s very strange, but so are we. Ours is a story of hard work and piety, which is also strange come to think of it, since Lutherans then turn around and preach that nothing we do makes any difference for our salvation.

Weird.

Lutherans live life straddling a barbed-wire fence between grace and good works. Life is much easier if you camp on one side of the fence or the other. One side of the fence is for those who like to demonstrate their faithfulness through action. For these folks, what they do and say defines who they are, demonstrating that they are good people—good Christians. The other side of the fence is for those who believe that God loves them just the way they are, who believe absolutely nothing is required of them, especially when it comes to God’s love and salvation. 99% of the world lives on either side of that fence of good works and grace, but Lutherans are just a little slow. We go out of our way, mind you, to sit on top of the barbed wire, straddling both sides. Culturally we are a people of hard work; theologically we are a people all about grace.

We are so weird.

How I "won" a triathlon... and then didn't

Now, firstly I have big news: Kate is pregnant. I feel like I’m obligated to say that before writing anything else because it is, well, big news. But since I’ve also known about it for awhile it’s breaking news to you and not so much to me, so you’ll have to excuse me for writing about something other than my unbridled joy at becoming a father. Don’t get me wrong, we’re excited. I just have other things happening, too!

Add to that the awesome day of youth activities we had in church today, culminating with three baptisms, and things are just awesome (that's double the awesome, y'all!). Today's service is the happy reason I am not posting a sermon this week (because our youth talked, which is frankly better for all of us anyway). So that, too, was exceptional and at some point I’ll probably write more.

But if you clicked on this post because it said “triathlon” all of that is neither here nor there. So, onward!

My "old man" face. Patented.

Babylon and the importance of community in the digital age

Scripture: Revelation 18:1-3, 21-24

    One of the most frequently used metaphors in the Bible for the kingdom of God is the “city on a hill.” The city on a hill metaphor resonated with people in the Middle East because it recalled the city of Jerusalem, which was built upon a hill, and the “New Jerusalem” which the book of Revelation tells us will be the centerpiece of the reign of God on earth. But to understand why Jerusalem matters so much requires going beyond the important events that happened there. Of course Jerusalem is an incredibly important historical city because of the temple and Jesus’ triumphal entry on Palm Sunday, the crucifixion and the resurrection, but this vision of the city on a hill looks well beyond the past into a future that is bigger than geography and history. The New Jerusalem is a place where God promises to build a community open on all sides where all peoples will worship as one. It is a city on a hill in the sense that it is both a vision of a future and a reality just out of our reach.

    But if we’re honest with ourselves this is a really tough metaphor for us to get, and it’s not only because Hallock, Minnesota looks nothing like Jerusalem. Part of the trouble stems from the strange idea of what a “city of God” will look like. Not everybody likes the idea of a “city” to begin with because of the crushing congestion, the politics and the sheer overwhelming speed of life, so the idea of the zenith of creation culminating with God creating one big city may not exactly be our preferred vision of the afterlife. And that’s OK, because the New Jerusalem—and everything it represents—could just as easily be called a community.