Sermon on the Best Verse of the Bible

Romans8:26-39; Matthew13:31-33,44-52

A couple weeks ago as we gathered for staff meeting, Jen was consterned and consternated (both!) about what seemed to her a trite lyric from a kids’ song that said, “If God is for us, who can be against us?!” I instantly blurted, “That’s from Romans 8! The best chapter in the Bible!” At which point, the staff sort of stared at me, maybe generally surprised that there is a best chapter in the Bible, or that I thought everybody should know which that is.

It should go without saying that not all Bible passages are created equal. Nobody would argue that Leviticus 18 is as vital as Psalm 23. You’d be silly to the point of offensive if you claimed the “wives be subject to your husbands” of Ephesians 5 was at all comparable to Easter resurrection of Jesus in Matthew 28. As folks who are reading through the Bible this year are all-too-regularly reminded, plenty in there is hardly worth reading. But other stuff is so important—the best of news!—that we want to keep re-reading it or hearing it again and again.

With that, I’d say that Romans 8 is the top of the heap. If we were left on a desert island with only one chapter of the Bible (it’s a frequently raised puzzle), this would be the one to pick. And this passage today especially. In fact, the last verse of the reading, I would call the culmination of the Bible’s whole message: nothing is able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus. This verse could itself be construed as the mustard seed, the yeast that gives rise to everything else, the pearl of great value. I really hope it sounds almost unfathomably good to you, and gives you a little shiver it feels so wonderfully surprising to discover.

But if not, well, that’s where some of my challenge lies. If this is the best Bible passage and the most important for you to hear, then I’d wish this would be my best sermon. (In that regard, I’m not off to a very good start.) More, we’ve been listening to Romans 8 for three straight weeks now, but rather than a sense of you saying “wow” or “ooh, ahh,” I’ve instead had numerous conversations about the confusion. Even though I haven’t gotten to unpack any of it in preaching, I’ve tried to make it closer to a zero-entry wade-in kiddy pool instead of the roaring ocean depths. To help you appreciate what you’re hearing today, last week we did the section as a paraphrase and dialogue, so your own voice could capture and hold onto the persevering hope and you could acknowledge in your very being that you have been adopted as children of God. The week before, instead of the usual New Revised Standard Version, we used a different translation that I further adapted, trying to help this in your ears.

Before that, this is actually the seventh straight week proceeding through Romans. It’s hard to hold onto that continuity when it’s separated by a week inbetween worship services, harder still with summer schedules that pull us elsewhere. This chunk today is the crest of an eight-chapter-long wave in Paul’s deliberation, an enormous moment of resolution to a conundrum.

Which points to another hard part of this: it isn’t a story. It’s not a nice narrative. This is thick theological pondering. Paul has been working through huge questions like: who are insiders and who are outsiders and what does the story of the Old Testament tell us about that? What can get us into trouble with God and what can rescue us from that? How well do we need to behave, what is supposed to help us behave, and why does it remain so hard to behave? Why do we suffer, why is there suffering in the world? All of that is finally and in some way entirely addressed by this: nothing is able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

If you’re having trouble wrapping your mind around that vast arc of Romans, here’s one specific example of this sweep through the book, from that start up to today’s final verse:  chapter 1 portrays sin and falling away from God and, in that, Paul happens to use a term that gets interpreted related to homosexuality. That place in chapter 1 has then been used in arguments to say that sex can separate you from the love of God, even though the reason Paul raises it way back there at the start of the letter is so that at this point in chapter 8 he can say “No!” there’s NOTHING that can separate you from the love of God. You’d think we could have that core message sink in and people could shut up about how evil this or that is and how it must condemn a person to hell. But the good news is continually interrupted and so desperately in need of reinforcement.

An obvious personal place to begin is in thinking of what’s been problematic in your relationships lately, where you know what your faults are or where somebody thinks they are: your stubbornness and impatience, that you work too much or too little, that you’re not quite trustworthy, a little dishonest, where you got angry or you just didn’t care. Amid any of those problems, still here it comes: nothing is able to separate you from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Less hypothetically, I’ll confess I picture faces with that. This past week I’ve been living alongside relationships breaking down and the fracturing of our human commitments and promises because of fights, and because of neglect, and because of dementia, and because of death. All those are wrong, and even as those dearest relationships and places you most wanted love to be true may fail, still here it comes: nothing is able to separate you from the love of God in Christ Jesus.

Or if you’re not relating to individual brokenness and accusations of falling short and can’t see those in yourself, then think about us as a larger group and the hungry people we didn’t feed, the sick we haven’t been visiting with compassion, those we left locked up in something, those people or creatures from whom we took away life instead of helping and the way we worsen creation’s groaning. Yet, even when we recognize ourselves as too wealthy, too consumeristly-driven by comfort or convenience, too violent, too privileged and white, too mainstream, and could not be labeled as authentically Christian, still here it comes: nothing is able to separate you from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Again, from the theoretical to very direct examples, we have people among us—in our very congregation, you must hear me say—who need housing and are amid the crisis of homelessness when they should not be. Farther away, but still near to my heart, my dear friend Ali in Jerusalem reports worry for his fellow Palestinians during the standoff that kept Muslims out of the Dome of the Rock complex, and I have to realize that conflict should have no reason to have lasted so long, last month marking 50 years since the Six-Day War. Or, again, I’m haunted by images of the squirrel that died in my yard last week, and haunted by the terror of my farmer Tony of Scotch Hill Farm belaboring that the destructive rains are climactic change that we’ve brought on ourselves. Yet still, here it comes: nothing is able to separate you from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. God won’t be stopped by any alleged impossibilities.

But if that seems almost incomprehensibly huge, then think about what’s just not right in life. This is a big deal, because Paul is talking about what makes us right with God. So if things aren’t going right, that would ultimately concern our relationship with God. Think about illnesses, your uncertainties about how to live, what your purpose is, the doubts and struggles, the sadness, being too busy, when life doesn’t feel very special, when you’re bored or unimpressed, everywhere things just don’t quite go as they ought. Those aren’t indications you’ve been forsaken or that you’re fatally on the wrong path. If anything, these may become sacramental moments to serve as reminders, mementos, and more deeply reassure you that—here it comes—nothing is able to separate you from the love of God in Christ Jesus. No matter how wrong you tell me I am, still my core identity cannot be changed: I am loved by God.

For those of you whose brains are built around storytelling, it might be that if I said more about any one of the specific examples I’ve listed, then you’d feel like you’d better appropriated and retained the message of love, that you were holding it more clearly. But Paul isn’t working in individual specifics. He’s not spinning a yarn or dabbling in metaphor or unfolding a narrative constructed for specific examples. He doesn’t want you to come away saying, “well, of course nothing about their gender identity separates them from the love of God in Christ Jesus.” Neither should you to say it about somebody’s race or health or productivity or church attendance or nationality or marriage status or income or criminal record or job or political persuasion or attitude just because you heard a story about them that addressed an isolated instance. So much more, Paul wants you to hear it for you, and to live into this framework that’s bigger than  your story or any story, a framework with all of creation groaning, yearning, hoping, being born into a new reality. That is why Paul arrives at this point and proclaims the most abundant good news, and here it comes once more: nothing is able to separate you from the love of God in Christ Jesus.

With that, if you’re thinking this conditionless love means none of those wrongs matter, that it absolves your opponents of all they’ve done to harm you and is forgetful about your own lackluster history, if that’s how this love seems…then you’ve got it exactly right.

But you still probably haven’t really appreciated it yet. If you become skeptical that this just whitewashes over the difficulty, then you’re not giving due credit to what love means and does in our lives. That complexity is exactly what Paul has been trying to help you comprehend, the ins and outs of how this love is unstoppably functioning in your life and across this world. And so—with him—I’m hoping we can continue to discover how we live into this love.

 

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a newsletter article

Holidays can be in flux.  Some are well-observed.  Some just pass by.  Some are religious (like Christmas, at least sorta and originally).  Some are secular but offer religious connections (like Thanksgiving, with President Lincoln’s proclamation of praise for our “beneficent Creator”).  Personally, I’m in favor of claiming more from the neglected Labor Day holiday.

More than a last hurrah of summer or a transition into busy school years, we Christians who are dedicated to carrying out God’s work in our lives and in our world should well celebrate Labor Day.  We believe our labors are part of the immense shared community of creation, each in some way caring for and serving the others, each with our unique capabilities.  When a work situation falls short of that standard by being demeaning, coerced, or unfairly compensated, we argue for better.  We can do no other.

Also in that way, we don’t limit some callings as holier or see work as only serving to get a paycheck.  Martin Luther rightly understood that some of the most consistent and God-given of our vocations are those that take place in our homes and amid our family.  Even if those aren’t the easiest, most well-acclaimed, or best-compensated, within that close proximity of our relationships is the primary venue where love is shared and life is sustained, which is the fundamental character of God’s work in our world.

Besides blessings for and celebrations of Labor Day, at MCC we’ll continue part of our observance a week later with “God’s work, Our hands” Sunday on September 11 as we join together in volunteering on a variety of service projects and missional tasks.

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Jesus, Marriage, Divorce, and More

sermon on Mark10:2-16
Acacia’s family had a priest who would preach before reading the Gospel, to help with what was going to be heard. I almost did that with this reading, since these are not easy verses, especially for some of us. It can sound like a commendation or a condemnation. Some of us hear blessing in these words and some of us indictment, while some of us may not feel Jesus address us here at all.

Yet to hear the heart of the message of mutual benefit—and not just be self-congratulatory—we need background. In Jesus’ society, women could not initiate divorce. A man was permitted, however, to divorce his wife about as simply as handing her a note saying “it’s over.” So this was actually a strong word on behalf of women. To kick a woman out of the house would leave her without resources, without support, cutting her off from life. Within these words, Jesus is advocating for women.

So the question was about the law, but Jesus was trying to remove it from a legal framework to appreciate life and the value of relationship. To move us in the direction of focusing on blessing and relationship rather than restrictions and curses, and because of the different ways we hear it, I want to start by considering our many situations in life or the various stages through which we could be transitioning, trying to catch at least some of our enormous complexity and diversity.

Among us gathered together in this congregation, some are happily married. Some may be still in that honeymoon bliss kind of feeling, and others have found benefits in that pairing for 60 years and more.

Among us are also those who have not found marriage to be blissful or maybe even beneficial. Some of us think of it more as an inconvenient slog.

Again, some among us have ended marriages because they were no longer life-giving. There are also some who did not choose divorce but were nevertheless subjected to separation. So together we know divorce can be a painful fracture and feeling of brokenness, and at other times can be relief or fresh opportunity. Quite likely, it is all of that together—the good and the bad, the sense of being a quitter and of necessity. It’s hard and complicated, which (as we’ll say more about) means we don’t need a hasty churchy condemnation about it.

To continue on, there are others of us here, as well. We have dating relationships or long-term partnerships without marriage. Given that it’s a new reality in our state and country, we also recognize that there are those among us who have been long told we couldn’t be married, people whose sexual orientation or gender identity have been too much excluded as unusual. And we’ll return to a bit more on what Jesus is or isn’t saying about that.

There are also those among us who are single. That may include the young among us who anticipate or yearn for relationships to come. It may include widows among us continuing to live with the memories of a partner or spouse. Singleness at any age may be with a sense of fullness or of emptiness, either that life is missing something without a partner that society seems to declare is the standard pattern, or else that it’s not necessary, that life is good and full and rich without being coupled.

That perspective helps us all to recognize how we define ourselves and how we determine what is the fullness of life and what relationships are good and beneficial. Clearly none among us finds relationship with only one other person. Life doesn’t come only in pairs. We know richness of relationships are shared in an enormous web of blessing, in types of connections with the variety of so many people and groups, as well as (we must remember, especially on this St. Francis day) with pets and trees and cows and all the creatures that make our life, our life.

In turning more directly to ask what this Bible reading means for us and our lives in all these relationships, I’m interested to note that the version from the Gospel of Matthew was used at my cousin’s wedding in Tacoma last weekend. The surprise is in that her husband had been divorced, which the reading declares to be problematic. Yet at the wedding service we certainly celebrated and listened for God’s blessing for them. That’s vastly different from using this passage as a club. We need to be cautious of warping these words from Jesus from being about life into the opposite. We can observe that the pope, even as he talked on his visit about family, pivoted from the narrow structure that labels “family values,” as if other forms and shapes of families had less value or were depreciating it for others.
In that regard, it’s worth exploring these distinctions that contrast the legalistic and institutional view with what seems more in character for Jesus and therefore for us as Christians.

One typical problem begins in elevating marriage to an undue degree, making it an important sign of blessing or even a way to get closer to God. For Roman Catholics, it is one of the sacraments, a means to receive grace. But it’s not just Catholics that try to make marriage into something it shouldn’t be. Too often a passage from Ephesians gets used that says a husband is head of his wife like Christ is the head of his church. It’s a bad analogy to begin with and is poisonous as a prescription. Even Martin Luther mistakenly wrote on occasion that marriage was a blessed state fulfilling what humanity was supposed to be in the Garden of Eden.

The problem is quickly apparent that marriage is no Paradise. Being married quite obviously does not automatically make us better people, much less holier people. We fail in trying to embody love and grace and forgiveness. We fall short. None of us can bear the burden of having to be Jesus for each other. We need Jesus because we aren’t Jesus. Rather than marriage being what gives us strength and grace and blessing, we need blessing and strength and grace in order to keep going in marriage.

And we also need it outside of marriage. That’s the second and larger problem when we’ve overestimated and elevated marriage beyond what is should be. If marriage is seen as so highly blessed, then divorce becomes so wrong as to exclude a person from blessing, from God’s goodness. That gets it completely backward: we need God’s grace exactly because we are broken, because we are imperfect in our relationships.

That also returns to the original difficulty with this Gospel reading. We come to church seeking grace and blessing and God’s goodness and help for the week ahead. But this risks excluding some of us who need help and forgiveness and love. It even gets institutionalized as a policy that divorce means you can no longer be part of the church, that it directly separates you from what you need. Some of you may even have been told that you weren’t welcome to receive Communion because of divorce. That is an effort literally to dismember you from forgiveness, from community, and from our Lord Jesus himself. And it’s wrong! That excommunication is not from our God of welcome and of healing!

There’s something similar in the question of homosexuality here. This may be the closest Jesus indirectly comes to addressing same-gendered relationships, while quoting Genesis about the two becoming one flesh.

Yet before we restrict that understanding of unity, it bears noting how much we judgmental people enjoy quoting Scripture against others, again as a cudgel. Rather than letting it speak or apply to us, the energy is invested instead to exalt ourselves by condemning others, trying to tell them they’re wrong and we’re right. That’s another of the self-promoting efforts to claim that something we’re doing makes us inherently closer to God. Just as when we say marriage is right and divorce is wrong, we also try to say one kind of relationship is good and another bad. But that once again ignores and undermines the fundamental truth that we are all dependent on God’s grace and on Jesus for life.

With all of that, these words from Jesus would be better used in pondering how we are called to appreciate and foster life and blessing and relationships. That is, after all, the central point from Jesus: our relationships aren’t solely for our own benefit. He cautions us against being so hard-hearted, so stubbornly self-centered, that we lose sight of the greater good we are intended to share. We are called to attend to and take care of each other, to be responsible and aware of how we affect others, to seek the good and strive for the best in our relationships. We should be mindful of what it means to be united, to be joined together, to be so inseparably connected, and to recognize this as God’s work for and among us. We can observe that to be true in marriages and as couples, and being tied together and dependent on each other is also true in our families, in community, as part of neighborhoods and nations, and being sustained by creation. Existence is mutual and communal. So Jesus isn’t just setting a strict legal standard. He’s opening our eyes to the goodness, the richness, the broad extent of what God intends in our relationships, to be caring and cared for.

One final note, turning toward the second part of the reading that we’ve only touched indirectly: by again welcoming a child into his arms Jesus insists once more that all need access to his grace and love and blessing. So it’s one thing to say we should be nice to kids or understanding of youth. It’s another to be proud of a vibrant and growing Sunday School program. But to take up the ethic of care and the promises we make in baptism, we should probably be asking in our families where other activities or selfish priorities are obstructing our children’s access to Jesus and God’s blessing. We should ask how our worship is indeed welcoming them and where it impedes that. We should ask if we ourselves are making use of the means of accessing blessing for life, of being sustained in relationship with God and this community and the fullness of creation.

Hymn: This Is a Day, Lord, Gladly Awaited (ELW #586)

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My Generation and Church

Lenten Midweek reflection for 11Mar15
Isaiah 44:24-45:5; 61:1-4; Psalm 1

Paired with verses from the hymn O Blessed Spring, we are proceeding through our ages. Last week Paige talked about lively energy of children. Next week Edward may reflect on resolution and rest toward the end of life. Yet, today’s reflecting on faith among my age group is a matter of disruption, with probably the defining characteristic being that we don’t participate.

My age is approximately where many of your daughters and sons and grandchildren are. I share your pain and lament of wishing and wondering why they don’t come to church. I’ve even heard several of our older generation of members as they’ve been dying, that having their offspring connect to church would be almost a last request.

Yet there aren’t obvious answers. We can’t force each other to go to church. In spite of huge amounts of research and strategizing and books and books on the topic of faith and my generation, there is still no quick fix.

To start, some standard generational differences are helpful to highlight. The World War 2 generation built St. Stephen’s and many mainline congregations. That generation by-and-large trusted authority. They came to church just because it was the right thing to do. The Baby Boomers were more skeptical. They went through Vietnam and Watergate. They were willing to question church, among other authorities, and hold them accountable.

We younger generations, however, are said to have lost almost all confidence in institutions. There is nothing about a national brand of ELCA (or McDonalds or Oldsmobile) that automatically has our loyalty. We won’t say, “my country, right or wrong.” Instead, our loyalty is relationship-based, in diffuse small groups, online connections, and what we experience.

One way this is talked about is that the older generation would give out of a sense of duty and would give just plain to support the budget of the church, but younger generations respond specifically to causes or projects. And the more evidence they have their giving makes a difference, the better.

Among my people, I’m an anomaly. I wasn’t a church-geek as a kid, but since I started college I’ve probably hardly missed two weeks of church in a row. That’s weird. My peers don’t have that kind of rhythm. Sometimes it’s because our lives are actually busy, and work weeks aren’t 9-to-5 Monday to Friday. Or because we’re more mobile, and traveling on weekends. Or because life just feels more distracted, since we’re bombarded by news from around the world and are always in touch through social media and have zillions of other media options. We’re the generations that were first to have VCRs and cable, on to video games and cell phones and the internet. Even having children, which in former times was supposed to bring people back to church, doesn’t work well in my generation, with lives so overprogrammed from the get-go.

A lot of this reflection seems pretty dismal. So the first of my bright sides amid the darkness is that, even though my generation is less in church than others were, still when we we’re here it’s because we want to be, because it’s important to us. I like to share my anecdotal evidence that even in the 10 years I’ve been here I’ve witnessed a change. It used to be that young families brought children to be baptized as an insurance policy in case something bad happened (we’ll say more about that later) or just because they’d been baptized and thought it was what they were supposed to do. The same for parents of Confirmation students, saying, “I had to go through this even though I didn’t like it, and so my kids have to, too.”

Now it’s more like parents I met with today who said they’re bringing their daughter for baptism because they want her to be part of this community and to know God’s love and to learn to live with these values. Even when parents aren’t mindful of it, students themselves are seeking to be part of our Sunday School and Confirmation gatherings. Being here is not just by default, but because you really want to be, and find some sort of value in this.

So what sorts of values are there? I’d say the church is still looked to as a moral authority, a place of answers, and probably some peace or serenity compared to the rest of life. In this week, I’ve had people who are otherwise not at all connected to church asking me—and therefore asking for some sort of official church response—about the shooting of Tony Robinson, and for prayers during sickness, and for financial assistance amid a time of crisis. That people are turning to the church in those various needs and concerns still says in our society we’re seen as a resource, a place of morality and insight and caring. In the words of our hymn, people still expect from Christians “gifts of beauty, wisdom, love.” That’s another of the potential bright spots.

The shadow side of it, though, is that it’s tough to exist only as that occasional resource. If people aren’t listening to the church or listening for God except in sporadic moments of emergency or panic or despair, first of all that’s not a very pleasant way to live life, and second it doesn’t allow for any sort of sustained involvement. It leaves faith as a sound bite instead of the Word that becomes flesh to inhabit and inform all of your lives and outlook on the world.

That sort of superficial connection is also problematic for sustaining the way we’re used to doing church. In pre-marriage counseling I ask about generosity and what people do for charity. One couple said they support the Humane Society and American Heart Association drives at work, and said they put $10 in the offering plate when they come to church. But if they’re here once a month, that level of support sure doesn’t pay my salary!

It also doesn’t do very well to build community. I can get by visiting my dentist twice a year or car repair shop only when I need it. But for church, community is vital to who we are. We’re not just an outlet for theological answers or a venue for finding inner calm. We are—from the very core of our identity as people of God—in community. This is what we understand of God in Trinity. God is not God by being the Solitary Highest Individual. Nor is Trinity a pyramid scheme, where the Father is boss and the Son and Spirit are subordinate. No, the theological vision is all about mutuality, agreement, and balance. And since God is like that, then that’s our shape, too. But, again, it’s hard to be community when we’re around each other only once a month, and when we’re also trying to put on a good face to mask our problems and pains.

I’ve heard from numerous peers and parishioners that the breakdown in relationship is indeed what separated them from church. They didn’t get the support they needed when a baby was born. They felt ostracized or were hurt or shamed by the very ones who were supposed to be about love and care. Church, which is supposed to represent God and to live Christ-like, as the Body of Christ, where we ought to be able to practice living as Jesus people with love and vulnerability, too frequently has instead become a liability in relating to God, leaving people to the hard task of trying to find a relationship with God apart from church. The difficulty is that it’s nobody’s singular fault, since we all need to practice being community together. For it to work when you need it, you also need to be here when others need it. It’s not about being perfect, but is for practicing grace, forgiveness, and compassion.

Besides those direct, personal failings in relationships, people also of course cite the broader categorical failings. Some see the church as anti-science, or anti-woman, or anti-gay, or as greedy or causing violence, or as navel-gazers who insularly talk about what we believe in but don’t stand up for it when the rubber meets the road.

I’d hope we could counter all of that. I’d hope we would understand science and faith are not mutually exclusive, that they cover different territory and may both inspire increasing wonder rather than reductionist blinders. I’d hope we would see the early church’s work of breaking down barriers to include so many in society—the rich and the poor, the healthy and the sick, the local and the foreigner, the righteous and the sinners, young and old, men and women, slave and free—and that we’d be able to see society has taken 2000 years to get back to the equality Jesus and the early church were already embodying, seeing all humanity as valued in Christ, respecting insiders and outsiders of all types and abilities. I’d hope we’d continue to embody Jesus’ way of suffering love, not voicing brash aggression, but living out callings for humility and peace and reconciliation.

In my view, there are some bad reasons and weak excuses for not being part of church, but there are some really rational reasons, even if those aren’t usually what’s mentioned by those I’ve asked. For example, if you’re selfish and don’t want to share your resources or your time, then church should be a difficult place for you. If you think Jesus just doesn’t really matter and that there’s nothing in him that connects you to God, then church probably loses most of its meaning. If it seems that church has restrictive belief, that we claim that what we believe is true, well…I’m still not sure how to disagree with that.

For a final bit of grounding, I’d like to use our Bible passages. The first chunk from Isaiah I chose because it talks about God’s activity and operations even among the unsuspecting. Cyrus was the Persian emperor, a foreign. He didn’t worship God. He didn’t even know about God. Yet this declares that Cyrus was God’s shepherd, God’s chosen, God’s messiah, working out God’s good purposes and larger intent. That’s an interesting and helpful word for my generation, separated from a regular worshipping assembly. God is still working in our lives, even when we don’t realize. Those of us here may cling to the blessing of knowing what God is up to, joining in the callings to strive for God’s kingdom. Yet our lives are never cut off from God. The stanza of our hymn for this week seems to recognize busy lives filled with so many details and so much work, about “limbs holding a heavy harvest.” God is still producing fruit in our lives, through our various vocations and careers and places in life where we try to be productive and prosper. Sometimes it’s with our best efforts, and sometimes in spite of us. That’s a word of relief for us who can only continue to commend our friends or siblings or children or grandchildren into God’s ongoing care.

The other Isaiah passage is about the work that God is up to, that the Spirit anoints us “to bring good news to the oppressed and poor, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty, to comfort all who mourn…” to repair ruined cities, the devastation of many generations. Two things are significant about this: first, Jesus quotes this passage as the purpose of his ministry, too. Second, there’s no mention about the afterlife or going to heaven.

Church shouldn’t only be about the insurance policy of whether you’ll get in to heaven if or when you die. That isn’t a burning question for people these days, and it should never have been our sole focus. A more important question is who God is and what the church is and who we are for all the days of our life before death. I’d say if God so loves our world and is concerned about all hurting lives, and that that’s a word for so many of our moments and not only for facing death, that we will do well to receive that work and to join in on it. It is first what God does for us, but also what God does through us. As that kind of people, we’ll be sustained by a power that restores devastated generations.

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