Holding Back on Love; a sermon for the Fourth Sunday of Easter.

John 21.1-19

Later, Jesus himself appeared again to his disciples at the Sea of Tiberius. This is how it happened: ² Simon Peter, Thomas (called Didymusj ), Nathanael from Cana in Galilee, Zebedee’s sons, and two other disciples were together. ³ Simon Peter told them, “ I’m going fishing. ”

They said, “ We’ll go with you. ” They set out in a boat, but throughout the night they caught nothing. ⁴ Early in the morning, Jesus stood on the shore, but the disciples didn’t realize it was Jesus.

⁵ Jesus called to them, “ Children, have you caught anything to eat? ”

They answered him, “ No. ”

⁶ He said, “ Cast your net on the right side of the boat and you will find some. ”

So they did, and there were so many fish that they couldn’t haul in the net. ⁷ Then the disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “ It’s the Lord! ” When Simon Peter heard it was the Lord, he wrapped his coat around himself (for he was naked) and jumped into the water. ⁸ The other disciples followed in the boat, dragging the net full of fish, for they weren’t far from shore, only about one hundred yards.

⁹ When they landed, they saw a fire there, with fish on it, and some bread. ¹⁰ Jesus said to them, “ Bring some of the fish that you’ve just caught. ” ¹¹ Simon Peter got up and pulled the net to shore. It was full of large fish, one hundred fifty-three of them. Yet the net hadn’t torn, even with so many fish. ¹² Jesus said to them, “ Come and have breakfast. ” None of the disciples could bring themselves to ask him, “ Who are you? ” They knew it was the Lord.

¹³ Jesus came, took the bread, and gave it to them. He did the same with the fish. ¹⁴ This was now the third time Jesus appeared to his disciples after he was raised from the dead.

¹⁵ When they finished eating, Jesus asked Simon Peter, “ Simon son of John, do you love me more than these? ”

Simon replied, “ Yes, Lord, you know I love you. ”

Jesus said to him, “ Feed my lambs. ” ¹⁶ Jesus asked a second time, “ Simon son of John, do you love me? ”

Simon replied, “ Yes, Lord, you know I love you. ”

Jesus said to him, “ Take care of my sheep. ” ¹⁷ He asked a third time, “ Simon son of John, do you love me? ”

Peter was sad that Jesus asked him a third time, “ Do you love me? ” He replied, “ Lord, you know everything; you know I love you. ”

Jesus said to him, “ Feed my sheep. ¹⁸ I assure you that when you were younger you tied your own belt and walked around wherever you wanted. When you grow old, you will stretch out your hands and another will tie your belt and lead you where you don’t want to go. ” ¹⁹ He said this to show the kind of death by which Peter would glorify God. After saying this, Jesus said to Peter, “ Follow me. ”

Let the words of my mouth

and the meditations of my heart

be pleasing to you,

LORD , my rock and my redeemer.

Moments like this one make me wonder if the disciples, early on, didn’t have just too much time on their hands.

I hear the introduction to this story in a very specific way, and it’s because Peter’s first line is so out-of-the-blue.

The disciples are hanging out. John doesn’t tell us they’re doing anything in particular, but there seems to be a lot of waiting occurring in this period.

After all, that’s what Jesus tells the early disciples and the early Church to do.

Wait for me. I’ll be right back.

Or maybe we misunderstood that line.

For two millennia.

Either way, the early disciples are waiting.

Waiting.

Wait. ing.

And Peter jumps up and says, “Welp, I’m going fishing.”

Professional fisherman Peter. Who catches with nets in boats, hauling in huge loads of fish and heavy lines made from, what, wool? hemp? flax? Probably something waterlogged and massive.

He goes out to do that because he’s bored.

You’ve gotta really love your job to want to do it just to pass time.

Peter, it seems to me, is not the kind of guy who waits well. He lacks patience. He’s impetuous. He’s active. He’s on the go.

“Full throttle” might be the phrase I’m looking for.

“Welp, forget this. I’m going fishing.”

Some of you may be the kind of person who has to do something to get your mind off things, to pass time. Some of you may be perfectly happy sitting by a creek and listening to the water bouncing off rocks.

Nothing wrong with either. But Peter is the former.

He and the disciples go out in the boat, cast their nets, hoping to push their nervousness and impatience around a bit as they pull in massive loads of fish…

and they get nothing.

To avoid waiting, they go out in the boat… and wait.

Can you see Peter’s nervousness eating him up? Can you see him rocking from foot to foot, the thoughts in his head pounding around with no outlet? Can you see the inaction eating him alive?

Then some fool watching from shore hollers at them.

I bet Peter didn’t hear him for all the buzzing in his head.

Somebody tells Peter this fella’s shouting at them.

“Hey, kiddos! Catch anything yet?”

Kiddos? Who’s that jerk think he is? Can’t he see we’ve got an empty boat?

Idiot.

“NO!”

Stupid son of a carpenter.

“Whyn’t’cha throw the net on the other side?”

Oh, smart guy. Whatever. Tell him where he can go throw his own net.

Of course, they do try the other side. And probably not for the first time that day.

And after they haul in that miraculous catch, the Beloved Disciple recognizes Jesus and tells Peter. That’s exactly what Peter’s been waiting for, so all his nervousness and excitement and anticipation launches him straight into the water to get back to Jesus as quickly as his little arms and legs can take him.

And I see Jesus smile at him, the Word of Creation joying in the adoring love of a child.

Which is why it’s so surprising how he answers when Jesus asks:

Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?

Peter probably laughs. Who doesn’t love Jesus more than a breakfast of fish?

Yes, Lord, you know I love you.

And here we have to pause, because our beloved english language fails us.

Peter doesn’t directly answer Jesus’ question.

Jesus asks Peter, “Do you αγαπε me? Do you, without condition or reservation, give everything you have and everything you are in complete trust and absolute faith in me?”

It’s a loaded word.

Peter says, “Come on, Jesus, you’re my favorite! φιλω συ.”

I think Jesus’ eye begins to glisten when he says, “Feed my lambs.”

Simon son of John, do you love me?

And Jesus really is Peter’s favorite. Nobody is more important. He doesn’t trust anybody more. And Jesus is putting Peter on the spot. Peter starts to notice, I think.

Yes, Lord, you know [I’m fond of] you.

Take care of my sheep.

I’m a fisherman. I don’t do nasty, smelly, stupid sheep. I catch nasty, smelly, stupid fish. I haul in big loads of nasty, smelly, stupid fish. I don’t stand around waiting on nasty, smelly, stupid…

Simon son of John, [are you fond of] me?

<pause>

Church, do you love Jesus? Do you αγαπε Jesus? Does it show? Are you giving everything you have, everything you are, all your time and attention and effort and concentration? Are you giving all your heart, soul, mind, and strength for Jesus?

Probably not. That’s hard.

We like Jesus a whole lot. We’re fond of him. We like the idea.

So Jesus tells us, Then feed my lambs.

Church, do you αγαπε Jesus? Is every thought centered around what Jesus thinks of us, what Jesus would do if he were here, or rather, because he is here?

No, but we like to sing about waking up in the morning with my mind set on Jesus. It’s a fun song.

So Jesus tells us, Take care of my sheep.

Church, you know you’re not even caring for them, though. Are you even fond of Jesus?

If that question gets you a little upset, a little down, a little offended, a little angry, then you might just be getting a taste of what Peter’s trying to say.

Lord, you know everything; you know I love you!

Feed my sheep.

Church, when we’re spiritually young, we can get away with selfish Jesus-is-my-boyfriend kinds of theology and practice. But when we’ve been at this awhile, our excuses for not growing up get old and tired.

Growing up in faith means feeding the lambs, taking care of the sheep. It means sticking up for defenseless people. It means offering nutrition to the malnourished. It means helping people out of poverty and hopeless situations, which is neither offering blind handouts nor complaining that that’s all the poor want. It means offering meaningful opportunities for them to grow and feed their families, opportunities that are sustainable and worthwhile.

It also means making yourself available and able to provide spiritual nourishment to people who need it. The kind of nourishment that lifts people up instead of just beating them down.

Feed my sheep.

Church, when you were young, people led you around by the hand and spoon-fed you your Bible verses and your Jesus-Loves-Me.

But when you grow up, you’re going to have to let Jesus lead you where you don’t want to go. And your John 3:16 and your Amazing Grace is only just the tip of this iceberg.

It’s time to stop holding back on love.

It’s time to give everything you have. Because following Jesus takes everything you are.

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

Blowing the Budget for Jesus: a sermon for the Fifth Sunday of Lent

John 12.1-8

Six days before Passover, Jesus came to Bethany, home of Lazarus, whom Jesus had raised from the dead. ² Lazarus and his sisters hosted a dinner for him. Martha served and Lazarus was among those who joined him at the table. ³ Then Mary took an extraordinary amount, almost three-quarters of a pound,h of very expensive perfume made of pure nard. She anointed Jesus’ feet with it, then wiped his feet dry with her hair. The house was filled with the aroma of the perfume. ⁴ Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), complained, ⁵ “ This perfume was worth a year’s wages!i Why wasn’t it sold and the money given to the poor? ” ( ⁶ He said this not because he cared about the poor but because he was a thief. He carried the money bag and would take what was in it.)

⁷ Then Jesus said, “ Leave her alone. This perfume was to be used in preparation for my burial, and this is how she has used it. ⁸ You will always have the poor among you, but you won’t always have me. ”

Let the words of my mouth

and the meditations of my heart

be pleasing to you,

LORD , my rock and my redeemer.

Sometimes nard is referred to as a perfume used in preparing a body for burial. That makes for a nice bit of foreshadowing by John, and it would have been an odd example of foresight by Mary, but that’s not the only use of nard. In fact, the mentions of it in the Song of Songs is in a quite - let’s say, “enlivening” - context. There’s nothing particularly morbid happening there.

So I would hesitate to talk about Mary’s anointing Jesus’ feet as foreshadowing.

I should probably also hesitate to make any correlation to Mary uncovering Jesus’ feet like Ruth did for Boaz, too. It’s sure too bad I don’t know how to keep my mouth shut.

What I think we can safely point out is that Mary is investing a fortune in Jesus’ feet.

A year’s wages.

Let’s pretend that minimum wage is going to bump up to $9.00/hour. That’s $360/week. Assuming somebody takes two weeks of vacation in a year, that’s $18,000/year.

An $18,000 pound or so of perfume.

Yeah. Let that sink in.

I have to think really hard about luxuries that range in the tens of dollars, not the tens of thousands of dollars.

In fact, it’s often what Jesus mentions last in this passage that gives me pause to spend on things that aren’t absolutely necessary:

You will always have the poor among you

I’ve heard that argument used in regard to budgets of all sizes, in fact.

Well, I could buy a six-pack, or I could buy a day or two’s worth of healthy meals for my family.

Well, we could build one more fighter jet, or we could create 7,000 of those aforementioned minimum-wage jobs.

Not saying the federal government should be a job creator. I’m just pointing to a difference in priorities.

I think our priorities have to be contexualized.

I think that’s Jesus’ point.

The poor are always here, but you have a unique opportunity right now. Martha, maybe you ought to shift your priorities a bit, too.

I keep reminding myself of that at home, by the way.

I could stress about keeping a house up to my mother’s standards, and probably some of yours, or I could just make sure it’s safe and healthy and spend that time with my family.

What’s the right thing to do in a certain context?

Let me pull out an example for which I have personal interest.

In a public school, the right thing to do is going to differ if I am a teacher, if I am a student, if I am a volunteer, or if I am a staff member. Each has different expectations. Each represents different interests.

For example, if I am a teacher, I represent the state. That is the essential body that has hired me. Certain things are appropriate to teach, to say, to do. Certain things aren’t.

Should I pray in public? No. Should I evangelize? No. Why not? Because I could lose my job. My best evangelism, just like anybody’s best evangelism, is to live a life that shows Christ is in me.

I hope you hear me saying this, because I’m not just giving us an excuse to avoid following Christ in our public lives.

In fact, what I have observed in a quarter of a century of following Christ myself is that this “evangelism” thing we claim to do isn’t much more than an excuse.

Words are easy. Actions are hard.

It’s easy to shout at other people, to threaten or condemn or whatever.

It’s much harder to show people how to live, to live a life that shows Christ is in us. It’s much harder to make those choices that aren’t what we want to do, but what we think Christ would do in our situation, in our context.

More toward the example of the Gospel lesson, how do our choices differ from our lives at work or in the marketplace as opposed to our lives here in worship?

That’s much closer to the difference between Mary and Martha.

How do we recognize those times when Jesus is right there in our midst?

Well, let’s begin by recognizing that Jesus is always right there in our midst.

³⁷ “Then those who are righteous will reply to him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you a drink? ³⁸ When did we see you as a stranger and welcome you, or naked and give you clothes to wear? ³⁹ When did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’

⁴⁰ “Then the king will reply to them, ‘I assure you that when you have done it for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you have done it for me.’

Jesus is always right there.

So I suppose the question isn’t, How do we recognize those times when jesus is right there in our midst? The question is, How do we recognize where Jesus is in this moment, in this place, in this interaction?

And if we can learn to recognize that, we will start to really re-sort our lives. We will find that all our priorities get reset. All our stuff gets in order. Even the stuff we didn’t realize was out of order.

Like Paul, who

was circumcised on the eighth day,

[was] from the people of Israel and the tribe of Benjamin,

[was] a Hebrew of the Hebrews,

With respect to observing the Law, [was] a Pharisee,

With respect to devotion to the faith, harassed the church,

With respect to righteousness under the Law, [was] blameless.

But Paul considered all that loss compared to knowing Jesus.

Instead, Paul considers himself in pursuit of the resurrection. In pursuit of perfection.

That’s where we are. In pursuit of perfection. In pursuit of knowing Jesus right where we are, in each moment that we spend.

And in each moment, we have to decide how to be Mary and how to be Martha.

Sometimes the important part of that is determining when to do each.

Sometimes we know exactly what to do, though, and we need to decide that we are actually going to do it. We have to decide to give everything we have when we recognize that the time with Jesus is at hand. We have to decide that nothing is too luxurious, nothing is too hard to hold on to. We have to decide to blow the budget for the sake of Jesus. To give everything.

That’s the choice.

The choice is to give up everything.

Then it will have been

like we had been dreaming.

² Our mouths were suddenly filled with laughter;

our tongues were filled with joyful shouts.

The joy of a life in God is ours to claim today, and it’s the most precious, priceless, amazing thing we can claim. And it’ll completely blow the budget. So the choice is ours to make.

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

Prodigal; a sermon for the Fourth Sunday of Lent

Luke 15.1-3,11b-32

All the tax collectors and sinners were gathering around Jesus to listen to him. ² The Pharisees and legal experts were grumbling, saying, “ This man welcomes sinners and eats with them. ”

³ Jesus told them this parable: 

“A certain man had two sons. ¹² The younger son said to his father, ‘Father, give me my share of the inheritance.’ Then the father divided his estate between them. ¹³ Soon afterward, the younger son gathered everything together and took a trip to a land far away. There, he wasted his wealth through extravagant living.

¹⁴ “When he had used up his resources, a severe food shortage arose in that country and he began to be in need. ¹⁵ He hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him into his fields to feed pigs. ¹⁶ He longed to eat his fill from what the pigs ate, but no one gave him anything. ¹⁷ When he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired hands have more than enough food, but I’m starving to death! ¹⁸ I will get up and go to my father, and say to him, “ Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. ¹⁹ I no longer deserve to be called your son. Take me on as one of your hired hands. ” ’ ²⁰ So he got up and went to his father.

“While he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was moved with compassion. His father ran to him, hugged him, and kissed him. ²¹ Then his son said, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I no longer deserve to be called your son.’ ²² But the father said to his servants, ‘Quickly, bring out the best robe and put it on him! Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet! ²³ Fetch the fattened calf and slaughter it. We must celebrate with feasting ²⁴ because this son of mine was dead and has come back to life! He was lost and is found!’ And they began to celebrate.

²⁵ “ Now his older son was in the field. Coming in from the field, he approached the house and heard music and dancing. ²⁶ He called one of the servants and asked what was going on. ²⁷ The servant replied, ‘Your brother has arrived, and your father has slaughtered the fattened calf because he received his son back safe and sound.’ ²⁸ Then the older son was furious and didn’t want to enter in, but his father came out and begged him. ²⁹ He answered his father, ‘Look, I’ve served you all these years, and I never disobeyed your instruction. Yet you’ve never given me as much as a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. ³⁰ But when this son of yours returned, after gobbling up your estate on prostitutes, you slaughtered the fattened calf for him.’ ³¹ Then his father said, ‘Son, you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. ³² But we had to celebrate and be glad because this brother of yours was dead and is alive. He was lost and is found.’ ”

Let the words of my mouth

and the meditations of my heart

be pleasing to you,

LORD , my rock and my redeemer.

We like to think that, when we read parables, when we hear Jesus say, “The Kingdom of God is like…”, that means that one of the characters must be God.

But Jesus doesn’t say that. Jesus doesn’t say, “God is like…”. Jesus says, “The Kingdom of God is like…”.

It would be easy to assume that one of these characters is God. And it’s relatively obvious which one gets it. It’s not the runaway. It’s not the jerk of a homebody brother who can’t handle the younger’s attempt at reconciliation. We like to think it’s the father, that God welcomes us with opened arms like that and tries to help the older brother understand that’s a better way to be, or something.

Now, the argument is, “Jesus doesn’t say, ‘The Kingdom of God is like…’. There’s no intro”.

Fine.

I think the rule still applies. Parables don’t show us one character of give us a moral or something. Parables aren’t foils or fables. Parables are stories. Word pictures.

Stories told by the most brilliant storyteller in history. A storyteller of infinite imagination and cosmically complete knowledge.

And the Storyteller doesn’t give us a rulebook. It’s a storybook.

Do we know the difference between a storybook and a rulebook?

Rulebooks have to keep getting updated because they have to keep addressing a changing game, a changing environment, a changing economy, a changing politic. 

Storybooks keep stories. Stories well told don’t change. The better a story is told, generally, the more broadly it is told, and the longer it lasts.

Can’t say that about rules. They don’t last longer because they’re better rules. Rules always get outdated.

Stories do sometimes. The best don’t.

A story like the Prodigal doesn’t. Or it hasn’t yet. And because the Storyteller is the most brilliant in all creation, I should imagine that it won’t.

The Prodigal is a story. A story about a prodigal.

Or maybe a story about more than one prodigal.

We assume that the prodigal is the younger brother, who wasted his 50% of his father’s fortune on prodigal, or wasteful and extravagant and reckless, living.

We read that and see how what happens to him and realize that what he has done is a bad idea. It impoverishes him. It slanders his father’s name and blows half his fortune. It devalues his older brother’s fortune, which was more valuable because of the half paired up with it.

But prodigal is:

Spending money or resources freely and recklessly; wastefully extravagant.

Is there only one character being prodigal in this story? I don’t think so.

Watch how the father initially allows the younger son to take what he desires. He must know what the son will do. Maybe he has a hope that the son will make a wiser choice, but a father knows his son. A parent knows the child. We have a good idea, most of the time, what the outcome will be if we allow the child a certain amount of liberty.

The father knows that the son will destroy his half of the inheritance.

But he gifts the inheritance to him, anyway.

And then, watch how the father welcomes him back after he had wasted his fortune. He lets go of any sense of dignity he has and runs out to meet his younger son. He prepares a glorious feast for the son, a feast fit for royalty for this young man who has defiled his father’s name and fortune.

The son did not deserve either gift. But the father gave it anyway.

Reckless extravagance.

How often do we see that kind of generosity, that recklessness, in our stories, in scripture?

Isn’t that what’s going on in our reading from Joshua? In what way did the children of Israel deserve to ever come out of the wilderness?

But God promised them a future, a land. And God gave them a feast.

Isn’t that what the Psalmist is celebrating?

The one whose wrongdoing is forgiven,

whose sin is covered over, is truly happy!

What is forgiveness but reckless? It’s not like forgiveness is a natural reaction. The natural reaction is vengeance. The natural reaction is to strike back at who has hurt us.

But that’s not what God does.

And so it’s not what we’re called to do. We are called to step out in faith and forgive. And it’s painful and it’s unnatural and it’s against our better judgment. And typically, we just won’t do it. We neglect that expectation. We neglect God’s calling to be God’s people, a Body marked most prominently by forgiveness.

No wonder so many people turn away from the Church. What do we have to offer that’s better than what they can get elsewhere? We look and act just like everybody else. We don’t even try to be like Jesus.

What’s the point of being Christian if we’re not going to act like Christ?

Christ is passionate and extravagant and, by human standards, mortally reckless.

How is Jesus anything but prodigal?

How is Jesus calling us to be anything but prodigal, anything but recklessly extravagant with our love, with our forgiveness, with the gifts with which we are blessed?

And how do we get so selfish with them?

I mean, seriously, the best-loved propositions in Christianity all involve making me better, improving my relationship with Christ, how I connect better with the Holy Spirit, all about my salvation, my reward in heaven.

That’s not reckless extravagance. That’s conservative selfishness.

Have you heard it? Think about how we typically react when we’re trying to improve our relationship with Christ? What do we do?

Maybe we come to church more, where we hope something will inspire us, but we can’t stop thinking about what our neighbor thinks about what we’re doing and thinking and how they’re judging us and so we can’t still ourselves long enough to listen and let our souls breathe in the life-giving breath of God.

Or maybe we read the Bible more, but we assume that the people of the Bible live in the same kind of world that we live in today because we’re too lazy to imagine a different world or to do our homework to see why Paul would scold the chatterboxes in Corinth

 or what God was actually reacting to when he rescued Lot from the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah

. And you don’t need me to point out what’s going on there, by the way. You just need to find a few decent commentaries. Bestseller and wealthy entrepreneur Max Lucado doesn’t count, by the way.

Or maybe we pray more, but we get so frightened by the concept of silence (maybe God isn’t really there!) that we fill the time with our own noise, creating nothing but a narcissistic mess of the time when our focus is supposed to be on the Divine, not on the flesh.

Then, when we ought to be focusing on God, when we ought to be God’s hands and feet loving on God’s beautiful creation, we instead focus all on ourselves. And the best we can do is slather makeup over the perfect image of God we are created to be like a three-year old who found mom’s Kaboodle and doesn’t know what the purpose of a mirror is.

God calls us to be child-like, not childish. Child-likeness is open-eyed and amazed. Childishness is selfish and full of tantrums.

Do you see the difference?

How do you think God sees you? Is God constantly judging you, shaking a divine head and wondering why you’ve gone wrong again? Or is God watching you and praising your every victory, nurturing and nudging you gently into better choices, into means of grace, beaming like a parent whose child is taking those first couple steps before crashing back down onto a perfectly-padded rumpus?

Open-eyed, beaming, amazed.

That’s how God sees us, and that’s how God is calling us to see each other.

So then, from this point on we won’t recognize people by human standards. Even though we used to know Christ by human standards, that isn’t how we know him now.

So we are ambassadors who represent Christ. God is negotiating with you through us. We beg you as Christ’s representatives, “ Be reconciled to God! ”

God is running out to us with opened arms. In fact, God has never left us alone. God has always been with us, even in our darkest, most God-forsaking moments, there was grace, dwelling, calling from the depths of our being; the very love of God dwelling in us and waiting for us to respond.

Showering on us extravagant, abundant forgiveness and mercy.

Reminding us that the Kingdom is right now, right here, in every act of reconciliation and love.

All of these new things are from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and who gave us the ministry of reconciliation. In other words, God was reconciling the world to himself through Christ, by not counting people’s sins against them. He has trusted us with this message of reconciliation.

Like the ancient family of Israel, God is still promising us a future. And not some distant, far off specter in a cloudy realm, but a future that is blossoming into the present every time we allow God in.

Today, friends, be prodigal like God. Love relentlessly. Give extravagantly. Show the world fathomless forgiveness.

And the Kingdom of God will be with you, bursting out from you today.

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

In which we consider Dodge and God.

It's touching. It's emotive. It's gut-wrenching if it's a life you live every day, I have no doubt.

It's Dodge's Super Bowl 2013 Ram truck commercial.

I have no problem with commercials being emotive. I cry for commercials. I'm that kind of guy. But I recognize that the point of the heartstring-tugging is ultimately to push product. The test of quality of a commercial is not whether it makes a difference in the world, but whether it makes a difference to million- and billionaire stockholders.

That's why Dodge's commercial bugs me.

Forget the problem of Paul Harvey's theology. Forget that it neglects Genesis 3:17 in favor of glorifying of one of the world's more maligned professions. I appreciate farmers, too. I'm a huge fan of buying and eating locally. I support our local Farmer's Market, and my family has made a first attempt at gardening, ourselves. We'll do it again next season. But forget that.

What bugs me is that Dodge is using the name of God to sell product. It is not excusable by simply claiming that at least Dodge is putting God's name in the public sphere. If anything, that's worse. Using God's name as a selling point makes a mockery of God. It reduces God to an advertising tool. It is a use of the name of God that is unrelated and contrary to the nature of God. It serves greed instead of generosity. It serves the rich rather than the poor. It takes the name of God, in short, in vain.

And that's a problem.

I know there are other problems with commercials. I know that objectification of women and glorification of alcohol and idolatry of product are major problems in commercials. I get that. I'm not minimizing that.

But Dodge's commercial is subtle and subversive enough that Christians are praising it.

Christians are praising the idolatry and blasphemy of Dodge's commercial without knowing they're doing it.

We need to be very careful about how desperate we are to make God's name known. We need to make sure we aren't misrepresenting our Savior and our Hope. We need to be very clear about what's appropriate and what's not.

And we need to be very clear in calling this commercial what it is. It is idolatry. It is a vain use of God's name. It is blasphemy.

I Have Called You by Name; a sermon for the Baptism of Christ

Luke 3.15-17,21,22

¹⁵ The people were filled with expectation, and everyone wondered whether John might be the Christ. ¹⁶ John replied to them all, “ I baptize you with water, but the one who is more powerful than me is coming. I’m not worthy to loosen the strap of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. ¹⁷ The shovel he uses to sift the wheat from the husks is in his hands. He will clean out his threshing area and bring the wheat into his barn. But he will burn the husks with a fire that can’t be put out. ”

²¹ When everyone was being baptized, Jesus also was baptized. While he was praying, heaven was opened ²² and the Holy Spirit came down on him in bodily form like a dove. And there was a voice from heaven: “ You are my Son, whom I dearly love; in you I find happiness. ”

Let the words of my mouth

and the meditations of my heart

be pleasing to you,

LORD , my rock and my redeemer.

Don’t fear, for I have redeemed you;

I have called you by name; you are mine.

There are days that I’m really in need of some good news, some comfort. And not every day that I need it do I manage to find it. Do you have that experience?

Faced with the weight of concerns around me, the number of things that need to get done, my inadequacy for the task at hand, I’d say those days happen more often than other days.

And maybe that’s why I try to practice morning prayer.

I started in seminary. I knew I had to get through Atlanta traffic in time to get to orientation at Candler, and I knew I wanted to be early, and I noted that Candler offered a thing called Morning Prayer at 7:30.

So I showed up at 7:20 or so, met my friend Keith Oglesby for the first time, and joined a rather large crowd for a completely new experience.

We read the Psalm responsively, we heard the Gospel, we prayed collects appropriate for the day, we shared our concerns and voiced the concerns of our community and of our world, and we were blessed to go out into the day in God’s presence.

And that beginning time not only introduced me to people who would become life-long friends, but it introduced me to a new way of celebrating time, and it washed me in a peace that I desperately needed between facing Atlanta traffic and the stress of post-graduate work in theology and holy practices.

Washed clean at the beginning of the day. That’s how I like to start the day, anyway. I’m a morning shower person.

Beginning my day that way is a source of comfort. The routine and the cleansing helps me.

And some days, when I say morning prayer, I’m desperate for that comfort. Sometimes it’s in the scripture; sometimes it’s in the prayers or collects of the day; sometimes it’s in the still space when I’m naming off our concerns and listening for God’s voice. And sometimes I’m so distracted that I can’t quite find that comfort.

But it’s almost every day that I need to hear something like Isaiah offers us today:

Don’t fear, for I have redeemed you;

I have called you by name; you are mine.

Speak those words with me this morning:

Don’t fear, for I have redeemed you;

I have called you by name; you are mine.

I suspect that when Jesus went to John at the Jordan (Jesus-John-Jordan. That’s fun.), he knew what was in store. I suspect that going to John (Jesus-John-Jordan) wasn’t just a formality. Maybe Jesus needed that washing, that comfort, that reuniting with the First Person of the Godhead, in preparation for the rush of what was to come.

And I think that what Jesus hears, and what the people hear also, after his baptism, is very similar to Isaiah’s proclamation. Maybe not in detail, but in sense.

You are my Son, whom I dearly love; in you I find happiness.

Don’t fear, for I have redeemed you;

I have called you by name; you are mine.

Don’t fear. No matter how busy you get. No matter how overbearing your boss seems. No matter how bad that last fight was. No matter how deep the grief is, don’t fear: I have redeemed you.

I have claimed you. I am bringing you home. I am affirming you. I am telling you, I have created you exactly the way I have created you and I love you exactly that way. I named you. I claim you.

You are mine.

When you pass through the waters, through grief, through fear, through fire, I will be with you. I will heal you. I know the world has set up some awful stuff, and people treat each other like mud. Don’t fear. I am with you.

I have called you by name.

And I love you.

I know your life is in shambles; your family is in disarray; your friends are forsaking you. But I promise you,

From the east I’ll bring your children;

from the west I’ll gather you.

I’ll say to the north, “ Give them back! ”

and to the south, “ Don’t detain them. ”

And I want you to help me. I want to give you the chance to be my hands and feet, my voice of hope and comfort to my children whom I’m gathering back to myself.

I have named you. I have not only named you, but I have called you by name.

I am calling you today.

Lord, call us. Help us hear you. Help us listen. Melt our hearts hardened by bitterness and grief. Break our hearts for your beloved, for your people in every time and place.

Call us today.

Remind us of our baptism. Remind us that you have brought us through the waters for a purpose. For a holy life. For discipleship. For being Christ to the world.

Remind us. Call us. Comfort us. Guide us into holy practices that make a difference not only in our lives, but in the lives of all those we encounter.

Lord, call me by name today. Let me hear you. Let every single person here hear you. Guide us this morning to reaffirm our commitment to you, to hear your call and to choose again to be faithful, to be loving, to be followers of you.

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

A Prayer in remembrance of Saint Nicholas

Almighty God, who in your love gave to your servant Nicholas of Myra a perpetual name for deeds of kindness on land and sea: Grant, we pray, that your Church may never cease to work for the happiness of children, the safety of sailors, the relief of the poor, and the help of those tossed by tempests of doubt or grief; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.