Saint John's Lutheran Church, Asheboro, NC

The members of Saint John’s Lutheran Church, Asheboro, voted on February 22, 2012, to call me as their first North American Lutheran Church pastor. I will be ordained and installed on Sunday, May 6th at 2pm, at Saint John’s Lutheran Church, 505 South Park Street, Asheboro, NC 27203.

Susan and I, and the members of Saint John’s invite you to the service of ordination and installation over which Bishop John Bradosky and Dean Carl Haynes will preside.

A reception will follow in the fellowship hall.

I begin my ministry at Saint John’s on Tuesday, May 1st.

Our time of ministry in Graham these past twelve years has been rich and varied. We are sad to leave so many friends and a community we loved from the start. But as someone remarked the other day, it isn’t called a calling for nothing. We gladly go where the Lord calls us.

In fact, when you look at the trajectory of my ministry and education, it is clear that the Lord has been calling me back to my Lutheran roots for a long time. Either those confirmation classes at St. Luke’s in Springfield, Ohio, really took hold or I just read Scripture as Luther did. Maybe it is both. Dr. Ron Selleck, a professor I had for various theology classes in seminary, was the first to notice. He would repeatedly remark in the margins of my earliest papers, “Luther is trying to get out here” and, “Luther again” and simply, “Luther.” This led to research projects on Luther’s commentary on Galatians and Justification in the Lutheran Confessions, as well as the reading of and writing about many books by Luther.

In other words, it feels right and good to be going home.

xx

When I was a boy, we always had Christmas morning at home with just my immediate family — mom, dad, my three sisters, and me. But on Christmas Eve…oh! on Christmas Eve, that is when Christmas really happened.

At 5 o’clock or so, we would gather at Grandma and Grandpa Ryman’s house for dinner. The whole Ryman family as there: Grandma and Grandpa, Aunt Thelma and Uncle Richard and Jim and Lori, Ben and Doris Dace (friends of the family), and the six of us. Before the dishes were done and certainly before presents were opened, we packed up the cars (including Grandpa’s Rambler), usually in the snow, and headed off to Calvary Lutheran Church in Springfield, Ohio. Aunt Thelma’s family went to First Lutheran and we went to St. Luke’s, but Calvary was Grandma’s and Grandpa’s church. And we all went there together once a year.

Though I only attended Calvary once a year, I remember so much from those annual visits. I vividly remember the way the church entrance was located off to the left and that, as soon as we entered from the cold snow and the rush of getting there from dinner, the sanctuary gave me a warm, red peace and stillness. And wonder.

But the poinsettias and the people and the carols and the candy are not what made the difference in a little boy’s heart and life. The difference was that for my family it was important to stop and worship on Christmas Eve. Oh, yes, there was a book of Lifesavers waiting under the tree and a crisp dollar bill in an envelope with my name on it stuck in the tree. But those had to wait, as did the new handkerchief and socks that were also part of the annual family gifting. The whole book of Lifesavers (eight or sometimes twelve rolls) would be there when we got back from church. I was taught that at a very early age.

When I was a few years older (I think 14), and the world got more hurried, someone decided we could skip church that year. Nothing doing! I told them the presents could wait; I was going to church. I don’t know how I planned to get halfway across town in the snow. But I looked around to see what the response might be and Aunt Thelma and Grandma Ryman were getting up to put their coats on. Then everyone but the person who’s idea it was to skip church was headed out the door to Calvary.

He would have to wait along with the handkerchief and socks — and the dollar bill and Lifesavers. Jesus was waiting for us.

I went to the local Walgreens to pick up Christmas photos and a Texas Roadhouse gift card. They did not have Roadhouse gift cards but they did have my 100 photos, and I might add that they were very nicely printed. That Walgreens does a great job with prints.

But I still needed the gift card. So I decided to go to Texas Roadhouse since they might also have a nice presentation folder for the card too. They did. They also had a special place inside the door for people buying gift cards. I got there at just about the right time since I was only three deep in the line with more people getting in line behind me.

Just as the lady in front of me was handed her receipt, the waitress knocked the credit card machine off the counter and parts went flying. I stepped up to first place in line and waited while she put the machine back together. But it failed to work. She tried several more times to no avail. Meanwhile more people were getting in line.

Eventually, the manager came over to work on the machine. She could not get it to work either. Another manager went to work on the machine, just as unsuccessfully. I can hear the people behind me shifting and muttering but not as audibly as the manager’s comment: “I’m gonna lose a thousand dollars in gift card sales.”

Twenty minutes later, she succeeded. The manager ran my transaction and handed me the gift card in its presentation folder. Then she gave me a $5 off coupon. I figured this was a way of making up for the twenty-minute wait. But no; they were giving those coupons to anyone who bought their gift card at the restaurant, instead of another store like Walgreens. Then she handed me a voucher for twenty dollars on my next purchase and thanked me being the only person who waited.

I turned around and found myself alone in line. When I turned back to her she added, “And you didn’t say anything nasty to me either. I appreciate that.”

What do you say to that but, “Thank you.” And, “Merry Christmas!”

Evelyn & Ken Keller, 61st Wedding Anniversary

Ken Keller was Susan’s uncle. We went to Ohio to preach his funeral in February and I have finally edited the sermon from the service. The message (audio) is here.

Ken’s obituary

I confess I did not read much of it. But since I am sick as a dog this Sunday morning and cannot be present with the Church, and because he thought a lot of the minimalist stuff reminded him of me, I have gone back and read it more carefully. I was intrigued how it could possibly be like me, since I don’t think of myself as particularly minimalist when it comes to buying stuff, or even frugal. So I looked at the article point-by-point.

1. We used to buy with cash before we bought this old house almost two years ago. And should go back to doing so as soon as our major projects on the house are accomplished. What we still do is similar—at least in largest part. We make major purchases for renovations/improvements with “12- or 18-month same as cash/no interest” offers. So we get what we need without paying a penny of interest. My wife is very good at this technique.

2. Saying no to logos is an easy one for me.

3. Brand disloyalty? One word. Aldi.

4. I’m not much aware of trends. I may have officially arrived at the state of near-full-on fuddy-duddy.

5. It’s usually others borrowing from me. I confess I do not like to borrow because I mark up books, need them too long because I refer to them again and again, want to take care of my own tools and again, need them too often. But have found a few good reasons to this during the past year. Eg: I borrowed a friend’s van to take the family to Ohio, instead of driving two vehicles or renting a van. Thank God for good friends.

6. We’ve swapped a little but usually just give stuff away.

7. Going on a “spending fast” is the most compelling idea in the list, since I have been considering it for a few months anyway. I have been wanting to fast just my paycheck for a month and be that far ahead. I think we can do it just by cutting out superfluous spending like eating out with the friends, buying clothes, books, et cetera.

8. We enjoy giving way too much to pull off having a “gift-free holiday.” But we have made Christmas this year easier on others. A simple $20 stocking is all that’s expected of family this year. We are trading names so each person only stuffs a stocking for one person. But Susan and I are still giving more…because it makes us feel jolly, I guess. My hope for Christmas 2011, is to have my woodshop set up by then and be able to make heirloom furniture for gifts.

9. Shunning ads? No problem. Except when Biblical Archeological Review and Christian Book Distributors send me adverts.

10. I’ve been walking more and driving less over the past 2 years. But I don’t drive much anyway. I have a mere 44K miles on my 2004 Tacoma. And it’s been paid off for years.

11. We have right-sized our space but we up-sized. Oh, well. Can’t be hitting on all 14 cylinders in this article.

12. Fix stuff. We have always done this, as much as we have been able. Susan sews. I am pretty handy with tools. Most of our renovations and improvements on the house have been done by us, with some help from friends too. We did not know how to do some of the things required but just figured we could learn by trial and error—and lots of trips to the hardware store.

I recently bought a Robbins and Myers steel desk fan (circa 1927) that was made in my hometown. I got it for $10 at an antique dealer and am looking forward cleaning, painting, and replacing its wiring. No, I don’t know how to wire. Yet.

13. DIY. Sure. This is just fun and rewarding. Take one item a year and learn a new craft as opposed to buying more stuff. Eg: furniture, art, clothing. You can have more useful things because you designed them for you, as opposed to someone else designing them for the common denominator consumer. You can end up with things you actually like or even love instead of mass-produced crap that won’t last even your lifetime, let alone be something family would love to inherit. And you will learn to be talented enough to give very nice gifts you made especially for someone you love if you stop long enough to think, “I can learn how to make this,” instead of buying that next thing in the store.

14. I find that I do want less and less. Every now and then, I must confess that I do want more. We recently purchased a big flat screen for these old eyes—and a blue-ray player to round it out. I have toggled the computer to it and we already had Netflix. So now—because of this big purchase—our cable bills are gone. The purchase will be paid for in 7 months of cable savings. After that, the cable savings will amount to almost 2 extra house payments a year. That will pay it off faster and bring down the interest significantly.

So I guess my friend was right. A lot of her ideas remind me of me too. And of him. Spoken affectionately from one fuddy-duddy to another.

I gave her a chance to settle down but then she got to me so, of course, I picked her up. What a wimp; I’d never have done that with my kids.

We talked awhile longer and watched some more out the window. Then I laid her down again. Maybe she thought she couldn’t use the same ploy again. Maybe she was just more ready to nap. Whatever the reason, this is what she did to stay awake longer…

But she finally fell asleep, which is why I have the space to post this video.

Think I’m overreacting? Spend a half-hour watching this video and see how you feel.

“We’ve Got to Do Something About This”
Philippians 3:4b-14
a sermon preached March 21, 2010, at Graham Friends

Last Sunday the worship team was practicing before Sunday School when Christian Corbett came into the sanctuary. The expression on his face was serious, even concerned. He had been upstairs with his sister and she had evidently done something that did not sit right with him. I couldn’t understand what he was saying about his sister’s actions because of the music being played. But it was clear that he was aggravated. At that point we finished playing the song and I could hear him say, while he put his hands on his hips, “We’ve got to do something about this!”

After I stopped laughing, I turned to Angela and said, “That’s next week’s sermon title. I don’t care what the text is.” The next day I began studying for the following Sunday and found that the text is one of my favorites, containing Philippians 3:9-10, “…and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith — that I may know him and the power of his resurrection and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death.”

Have you ever read a scripture and know there was something of a vastness and depth that you would spend your whole life exploring and trying to understand. That is where I have stood with those few verses of Paul to the Philippians for 35 years. The rest of the verse has plenty for me to learn yet but I know that there is something profound in sharing Christ’s sufferings that has perhaps eluded me all these years. And if I really, really wanted to know it and share in it with my Lord, I might put my hands on my hips and say, “We’ve got to do something about this!” But sometimes we are content (or at last I am) to remain mystified by how sacred and inexplicable scripture sounds.

But before we move into that one phrase that has for so long evaded me, let’s look at the rest of these verses. The Apostle Paul bragged about his pedigree to make an important point. I will now do the same. I was born into a Christian family. My father was an educator and my mother an avid reader and they made sure I was given a good education and lots of books to read. I was baptized in the Lutheran Church and worshiped there in a full church with my family after attending Sunday School each week. I made use of the literature table, becoming acquainted with Daily Bread and The Upper Room at a very young age. I remember buying for a dime my very first devotional when I was perhaps seven or eight years old. I hungered after the mysteries of God even then. A few years later I was taught how to pull the rope in the bell tower and move with it’s recoil so that even peals of the bell would sound between Sunday School and worship. Later, I was taught Luther’s catechism. By the way, this was the long catechism, not the brief one. I learned about and memorized the Ten Commandments, The Lord’s Prayer, the Apostles and Nicene Creeds. I learned how to take communion without the wafer sticking to the roof of my mouth. I also learned how to eat at what you call carry-ins but we accurately called potlucks. How blessed I have been as a Christian to eat often and much from the tables of the homes of so many. My mom was a great cook but I got to eat the offerings of hundreds of good cooks and bakers. God richly blessed me as a boy with a fine education, a good home, a variety and plenty to eat and so much more.

But somewhere along the line, something must have happened at St Luke Lutheran Church because my parents and sisters stopped going. Was it because they got a new pastor? Was some need not met by the folks, the pastor, or God? Did someone say something that seemed uncharitable to one of my mom? They never said but I know something happened.

This I do know: I didn’t want whatever it was that happened to them to happen to me. I wanted to keep going to St Luke. I do not know what the mystery there was for me; but it was there and I did not want to lose touch with it. Was it the potlucks I kept attending in the church basement by myself, now a 12-year-old? Carry-ins still appeal to me today. Was it the literature table in the narthex? It certainly held an appeal to me. Was it my Sunday School class, now a group of Junior High School students. I have to admit that Kristie Grote held a certain appeal but then I found out we were related. Probably it was for the best. I did not ring the bell anymore. Catechism classes were long over but I do remember the lessons to this day. Was it the Supper of a waxy wafer and grape juice that was the mystery? Perhaps more than I realize.

Today that building is empty. It was abandoned perhaps 20-years ago and the windows boarded up. It now sits at the edge of a crawling landscape of construction where a new city hospital and accompanying doctors’ offices and parking lots are being built where many square miles of houses, restaurants, and other businesses have been torn down. But St. Luke remains; and I am glad, sad as it is to see that building boarded up and empty.

For an empty building it sure gave me a lot. However, whatever I gained with my family, my education, and even my church, I consider all of those fond memories lost. In fact, they could even be considered a disadvantage. The Greek word Paul uses here in verse seven is zemian, and means just that, “to be put at a disadvantage.” Kansas would have done well last night to consider their whole season a loss, a disadvantage if they depended on it as if to receive some coronation in Indianapolis. Upon what do we depend to receive our crowns? Mommy and daddy took me to church? I was raised in the right denomination? A great education? If you believe these things reason for confidence, then I have more confidence than all of you! I have never left the church. In fact, I’ve been a member of so many churches I have lost count. I have taught so many Sunday School classes and youth groups, even when I was not a pastor, that I can’t keep their faces straight in my memories anymore. I have pastored four churches. I am finishing a second Masters degree for a church that does not even require an education. I am, as my father-in-law used to love to say (and I used to love to hear, if he wasn’t saying it about me), “educated beyond my intelligence.”

Are these things reason for confidence before the judgment seat of God? May I go before God and say that I have degrees and pastored churches and tithed and stayed faithful to one wife and weathered insult for the Name and was zealous for his word and that on the basis of these things he should throw open the doors and set out a feast for someone as wonderful as I?

Rubbish! These things are actually a disadvantage to many simply because they do put so much stock in them. But what must one do to be saved? I mean, if I have done so much and so many have done even more than I and it’s all simply a disadvantage, then we find that we cannot “do something about this.”

God has done something about this. He has called us his Friends. He has invited us into a relationship with him whereby we can enjoy him through a knowledge of his Son (verse 8). You may take away my memories, and my family, and my education, and pastorate and chaplaincy. But leave me one thing: Jesus. I count everything as loss, disadvantage, rubbish, dung (as the King Jimmy puts it) for the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. If I may gain Christ, all else is loss. And if I count on those other things, I am placed at a disadvantage that makes me a friend of me, not Christ. It is his righteousness that I depend upon — not my own moral or religious righteousness. My righteousness does not come from keeping the Law, from denominational headquarters, from educational institutions, from overworking, being a good husband, or a good person. My righteousness before God is a gift that comes through faith; it depends on God by faith alone — not education, position in life, or the approval of men. Faith. That’s all. Faith in what Jesus Christ did for me that I could never do for myself.

Now I know you know all of this but you must be reminded often. We forget the things we know and begin to depend on things that hold no promise. We must hold to what we have been given so that we may gain Christ and his resurrection. We must hold to Christ and be clothed with his righteousness and not the rags that are our successes or failures. This means that the moral realities that are your own life will not be the basis of some heavenly fashion show. If you show up dressed in your own righteousness then you will indeed have some fine clothes on but they will also be stained by your lies and hypocrisy and other sins. You will be wearing the latest designer fashions of the Church but they will be ripped, stained, frayed, and soiled. But if you are clothed with Christ, if you depend on his righteousness, you will be resplendent before God’s throne because you will look like the Son and not the sorry son you know you really are.

In fact, it is in the admission of this dismal condition that one may finally come to a knowledge of the resurrection. It is in a continuing dependence upon his suffering for you instead of your own religious suffering that attains the resurrection from the dead. And so, this favorite mystical sounding verse of mine simply and profoundly means a disregard for my imperfect piety and an abiding in the sufferings of Christ for me. The only sure method for pressing on (Php 3:14) is to try to do as well as one can but not lose composure in failure — because fail you will. When you focus upon yourself, whether on your successes or your failures, your life gets out of focus. If you are looking at yourself, you are going to end up walking into trouble. Refocus on the one who suffered and died for your inadequacies and rose from the dead so that you could be raised with him in glory. That is the only way I know of whereby you may press on to the goal. Forget what lies behind — what you have or have not done — and look to what he has done. Share in those sufferings of his for you instead of manufacturing your own and you will discover that he has already done something about which you could never do.

“No Mumblin’ Word”
Hebrews 1:1-4, 2:5-12
October 4, 2009

Since I was a young man, I have had difficulty hearing out of  my right ear. When I get hearing tests, they tell me nothing is wrong but still, if my right ear is toward you and you don’t speak loudly enough, chances are, I am not going to hear you. And it is irritating. Not just to me but I’m sure it is annoying to those who are trying to speak to me.

Very often this is the way it goes in the Ryman home: Honey, would you like me to pack you a lunch? Then a moment later: Well, would you like me to pack you a lunch? To which I get the reply: I told you I wanted a Lean Cuisine and a yogurt. And my continuing reply is, “If you want me to hear you, you have to speak up.” To make matters worse, sometimes her response is further concealed by a hair blower. All the more reason to speak up!

Recently, suspecting a lack of attention on my part, I have asked the question and then looked in to see and hear a response. The times I have looked, it is barely audible. In fact, it is sometimes mumbled. So let me go on record to say, “Honey, I am still going to fix you a lunch even if you mumble. But if you really want to be heard, you cannot mumble.”

Now sometimes, if you really want to be heard, you must not say a thing, as in the old spiritual:

They led Him to Pilate’s bar
Not a word, not a word, not a word, not a word
They led Him to Pilate’s bar
Not a word, not a word, not a word, not a word
They led Him to Pilate’s bar
But He never said a mumblin’ word
Not a word, not a word, not a word, not a word

Jesus allowed himself for our sake to be led as a sheep to the slaughter. But he also spoke the truth before Pilate. When asked who he was, he directly answered.

In the history of salvation, God’s people have very often him speak under the cover of a less anachronistic noise than a hair dryer. God spoke in ages past through prophets. Those prophets often seem to mumble. Ezekiel is especially “mumbly.”

As I looked, behold, a stormy wind came out of the north, and a great cloud, with brightness around it, and fire flashing forth continually, and in the midst of the fire, as it were gleaming metal. And from the midst of it came the likeness of four living creatures. And this was their appearance: they had a human likeness, but each had four faces, and each of them had four wings. Their legs were straight, and the soles of their feet were like the sole of a calf’s foot. And they sparkled like burnished bronze. Under their wings on their four sides they had human hands. (Ezekiel 1:4-8b)

I’ll stop there because I’m sure you get the point. You have to really concentrate—even study—to understand what Ezekiel is saying. Ezekiel is not alone amongst the prophets or for that matter, the Apostles. John was particularly challenging, at least if you are reading Revelation. Sadly, Luther found it such a puzzle that he advocated tossing it out of the canon of scripture. He said, “Christ is neither taught nor known in it.” Calvin thought it should be canonized but in my complete set of Calvin’s Commentaries, the last book upon which he comments is Jude. God has spoken to us through prophets and Apostles and through pastors and teachers but nowhere does he speak so clearly as when Jesus spoke.

The words of Jesus are not mumbled. Even when his disciples had difficulty  comprehending him, he stopped to make matters clear. When Jesus spoke in parables, those men and women who hung on his every word were often confused. So he would lovingly chastise them, When are you going to understand? Then he would spell it all out. The parable of the sower and the seed is a good example.

And when a great crowd was gathering and people from town after town came to him, he said in a parable: “A sower went out to sow his seed. And as he sowed, some fell along the path and was trampled underfoot, and the birds of the air devoured it. And some fell on the rock, and as it grew up, it withered away, because it had no moisture. And some fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up with it and choked it. And some fell into good soil and grew and yielded a hundredfold.” As he said these things, he called out, “He who has ears to hear, let him hear.” And when his disciples asked him what this parable meant, he said, “To you it has been given to know the secrets of the kingdom of God, but for others they are in parables, so that ‘seeing they may not see, and hearing they may not understand.’ Now the parable is this: The seed is the word of God. The ones along the path are those who have heard; then the devil comes and takes away the word from their hearts, so that they may not believe and be saved. And the ones on the rock are those who, when they hear the word, receive it with joy. But these have no root; they believe for a while, and in time of testing fall away. And as for what fell among the thorns, they are those who hear, but as they go on their way they are choked by the cares and riches and pleasures of life, and their fruit does not mature. As for that in the good soil, they are those who, hearing the word, hold it fast in an honest and good heart, and bear fruit with patience. (Luke 8:4-15)

So why speak in the parable at all? Why not just jump to the explanation? Have you noticed that in this parable, if you were asked to tell the story, you would tell about how the seed fell on the different types of ground and may not even tell about the explanation? And if you give the explanation, you have to think about the parable first. This is similar to attending college. Every professor is going to give you books to read. Then the next class, they will tell you what you read. Why not just skip to the lecture? Because it is the combination of reading and listening that makes the subject clearer.

Nevertheless, professors find it still isn’t clear to some of their students. I am just such a case because professors often mumble. I read the assignments and go to the lectures and end up saying, “If you want me to hear you, you have to speak up.” Of course, what I mean is, Tell me in way that makes sense in my world. I had one professor, who after explaining some theological conundrum, just to be sure his slower students understood, would recall a scene from The Simpsons cartoon the night before, and say, “I guess it’s sort of like that.” It is troubling how many times I was then found to go, “Ohhhhh!”

In ages past God spoke through the prophets and people were puzzled. When Jesus, who is the very image of God, came and taught the multitudes that he was the “radiance of the glory of God,” some people were disturbed; they just could not or would not hear it. But many people were finally saying, “Ohhhhh.” When God spoke through his Son, the mumbling of former times ceased.

For those who are disturbed because you think the Old Testament makes perfect sense and never was a mumblin’ word spoken there, let me say two things. One, you better understand the Old Testament because of Jesus. How can you fully understand some of the Psalms (just to mention one book) without Jesus? How incompletely the ancients understand Psalm 22—“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Psalm 22:1) “They have pierced my hands and feet—I can count all my bones—they stare and gloat over me; they divide my garments among them, and for my clothing they cast lots.” (Psalm 22:16b-18) or perhaps the question is better stated, how else can one more fully understand these verses than with Jesus’ explanation of the prophetic parable?

The other thing, if you think the Old Testament doesn’t sometimes mumble, is that when you decide Ezekiel’s visions make perfect sense, get back to me about whether he was “mumbling” or not. In Jesus, however, we have no mumblin’ word. He is clear. So why not just begin with him and be done with it? The prophets are the homework that make the lecture called Jesus clear. For example, the Old Testament slowly develops the idea of a need for a gracious Messiah. Even by Jesus’ time, the Jews were simply looking for someone anointed of God to deliver them from their Roman oppressors. But in Jesus, people began to understand that it was not the Roman Empire that oppressed them, it was their sin. It takes awhile for the truth to become clear—especially when you have been wandering in your darkness. The truth was always there but it was not spoken clearly enough or with an illustration sufficient to make one exclaim, “Ohhhhh!”

This illustration may be a bit off for moderns because of digital photography but the photographic darkroom is a good example of what the writer of Hebrews is saying. I used to sometimes find rolls of film I had forgotten to develop. Sometimes a month or so after shooting a roll, I would develop it and make prints. Very often, the reverse image of the negative only made what I had shot even less clear. When I enlarged the image in the red safe-light of the darkroom, I still might not perceive what image I had shot. Then I put the white photo-paper into the developing tray and slowly sloshed the liquid over and under the paper. Gradually a black and white image would begin to appear and awareness would steal over me.

What I had been seeing very small and backwards in the dark was now large and clear in the light. If I had set up the shot correctly and exposed the film just right, I could remember the day, who I was with, and even the emotions behind why I shot the photograph. If I shot, developed, and printed well, others also could see my impression of that moment in time.

The four-color process of printing is another good example—but one that computer printers have already made obsolete. Yet I hope I never forget the wonder of printing a photograph with four colors of ink for my first time. It was a photograph of the head of a lion with his great mane. I had to print it with cyan, magenta, yellow, and black inks. To do it right, you have to first imprint the yellow ink before the blue and red and finally black inks. Thin yellow squiggles on white paper are difficult to make out; sometimes they are almost invisible to the naked eye. Then the blue and red inks are added one color at a time and the plain white paper miraculously transforms into something that looks almost real. Black is then printed and the contrasting tone makes it pop! I was giddy. I could not get over the marvel of a process that made four different negatives and printing plates—that by themselves just looked like black-and-white illustrations—come to life. The process is important if one is to marvel at the result.

From the beginning, God made us for himself and to enjoy his company. He also created us to share his glory. He simply gave it to us in the garden but we did not comprehend and asked by eating forbidden fruit, Is this all there is? Then he spoke to us in burning bushes and whirlwinds and pillars of fire. These colorful expressions but not always easy to understand.

Eventually he communicated through prophets—sometimes condemning and other times a bit perplexing. But in these last days, God has articulated himself to us through a Son. God has made perfectly clear what millennia of religious teachings have obscured. The writer of Hebrews uses an excellent word to express this with clarity. Verse three of our lesson says that Jesus is the “exact imprint” of God’s nature. The Greek word used in Hebrews 1:3 is charakter, and is used to explain things like stamping out a copy of a coin or could be used, I suppose, in the darkroom as well. Printing presses can also reproduce perfect copies. But in Jesus, the die is broken. Indeed, this metaphor fails to do him justice even if it helps us understand who he is.

My prints were not the people I photographed. The sheets of paper were not litters of lions. But Jesus is a striking impression of God. In that man from Nazareth of Galilee was the very nature of both God and man. The essence of the Father was struck into Jesus. If that were not the case, then his life and death were in vain.

Sermon audio and PDF