The writer of the book of Hebrews was a great stylist. He knew how to work allusion and metaphor. His vivid references to Old Testament imagery and characters makes a pivotal turn as he moves from chapter eleven into twelve. Chapter eleven is that seeming homage to the great hall of faith: from Abel through Abraham, Moses, and finally David. We may be tempted to stop there and admire these great men of faith, “who through faith conquered kingdoms, enforced justice, obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the power of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, were made strong out of weakness, became mighty in war, put foreign armies to flight.” (Heb 11:33-34) Yet chapter twelve makes it clear that the author of Hebrews was leading up to someone greater than these faithful, someone to whom is the object of our faith.

Chapter twelve begins with placing the Old Testament faithful in a stadium; they are watching a footrace. The word used for these spectators is an old, poetic term that can mean cloud or mist, or even mass or heap. I like to think of it as a misty mass. Because this crowd of onlookers is cheering us on from the misty past, we are encouraged to “run with endurance the race that is set before us.” (Heb 12:1)

In order to run well — to finish — we are given three critical race tactics. First, “lay aside every weight.” (Heb 12:1) We are not in training so, it is time to take off the ankle weights. This is the actual race. It is not an event for which we are preparing; the starting gun has already fired. Quit standing around. What is holding you down? Lay it aside. Run!

Second, lay aside that clinging sin. (Heb 12:1) You do not run in your sweats or your warm-up suit. And you cannot run the race well with clinging sin. Lay it aside and stretch out your stride.

Third, realize where you are running. The only way you will possibly finish the race is if you know where you are running. When the starter’s pistol fires, you need to be headed in the right direction. Later in the race, when you are fatigued, you need to know where the finish line is so you can press on toward the end of the race. (Phil 3:14) Nothing is more humiliating, even for the cloud of spectators, than for a runner to drop out of the race. In the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus was tempted to drop out of the race but he pressed on toward his goal. Thanks be to God!

If Jesus had not kept the finish line in mind, he would never have been able to say, “It is finished.” (John 19:30) It is the same with us; we will not likely finish without keeping the goal in sight. So what is that goal, that finish line? Is it the end of this life? Is it heaven? Is it some reward, a trophy or a ribbon? In fact, for the Christian the reward is simply the finish line, to have run the race well enough to actually finish — no matter how long the race takes or how tired you are. But how does one know she has finished the race? How does one know she is even running the right race at all? It is all about the Finish Line. You are in the right race if you are running toward the correct goal. And you could die today and have finished well… if you are running toward the Goal.

The Finish Line is Jesus. If you are “looking to Jesus” (Heb 12:2) while you run, you will always have the Goal in sight. Our goal is not a nice sentiment on a tombstone, or a fine eulogy, or extra reward in heaven. Jesus is our goal. He is the Finish Line of this race called life. He began the race and ran it to the end. He is not on the prize rostrum, wearing his medal and waving at the crowd. Since he finished his race two thousand years ago, Jesus has been waiting at the finish line for you to cross. He too is in that great cloud of witnesses, but he is not in the stands. He is at the finish line, cheering you on. Run to me! Keep going! Finish!

And when you have crossed the line, running into the waiting arms of your Lord, you will be at the Father’s side with Jesus, the object of your faith, the author and finisher of your faith (Heb 12:2, KJV), your prize.

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.

You will not need flash cards and you will not need to take tests. You will however, learn The Lord’s Prayer in the language of the New Testament, Koine Greek. You will also learn part of John 1 and Revelation 1. Along the way, you will learn the Greek alphabet, many Greek words, how to spot common characteristics of Greek words, and…you will discover if you want to go even further with the language.

Imagine, being able to read the Bible of the early church by reading the actual New Testament and Old Testament (Septuagint) instead of an English translation.

Classes will begin Sunday, January 8th, from 4 to 6pm in my home in Graham, NC. The atmosphere will be relaxed, fun, and inspirational.

This is not only open to folks from my church. You may take part too. Let me know if you plan to be there.

I saw this broken paver while on outreach Thursday night. For some reason, it made me think of Ohio.

And then at a beginning of the year party for where Susan works…

…broken sidewalk at this old Duke family mansion:

The Greystone Inn, Durham, NC

Here are some more photos from that party. It was a gathering of five departments in the Friedl Building where Susan works.

Susan was proud, I guess. She had the family over after graduation and had set up this little display for them to see. The display should have been showing off her feats, and I would have made such a table except, how do you illustrate what she did? That woman was a huge support and frankly, it would have been very difficult to do this without her. I probably wouldn’t have done it at all.

When I did the BA, it was she who told me I could do it and we would find the money somehow (back in 1985 when we were making $5K/year). Then it was she who encouraged me to go for the first MA (in Theology). Again when I did the second MA (in Biblical Studies), she was supportive and understanding of the nights and weekends reading and writing when she undoubtedly wanted me to do some more work on this house we are renovating.

Saturday, she was far more excited about me graduating than was I. That’s just the way she is — nurturing, supportive, sacrificial. How do you make up a table that shows those qualities? You don’t. What you do is finish painting those cabinets you built a year ago.

Your car is Japanese. Your beer is German. Your wine is Spanish. Your democracy is Greek. Your coffee is Colombian. Your tea is Chinese. Your watch is Swiss. Your fashion is French. Your shirt is Indian. Your shoes are Thai. Your radio is Korean. Your vodka is Russian. And then you complain your neighbor is an immigrant? Pull yourself together. Copy and post to voice your support for the DREAM Act. DREAM Act NOW

Uh… No.

Is anybody’s car really American these days? Both of mine are built in the USA but the companies are indeed Japanese. My beer is not German. My wine is not Spanish. My democracy is uniquely American. Coffee does not grow in America or it would be American. My tea is not Chinese. My watch is not Swiss. My fashion is not French. (Trust me.) My shirt is not Indian. My shoes are not Thai. My radio is not Korean. My vodka is not Russian. And I do not complain that my neighbor is an immigrant.

But you know, that is not the point anyway. That Facebook post is just smoke screen. Still, I don’t like to complain so I pulled myself together and squinted through the smoke. This is what I see…

I complain, if you can call it such, because people do not immigrate; they illegally cross our borders. If people are here legally, fine. I have met two legal immigrants in the past 20 years. Two. I am sure there are more than two but it sure seems like the majority are here illegally.

There is a huge difference between buying legally traded goods and people illegally crossing our borders. That is the point.

As your people in ancient times said, YaHWeH eka rophe,
we say today, “Lord our healer,”
and thank you for being present with us this day,
and with families across this county and country
who still hurt because of the loss of a loved one who served us.
Be our healing.

We are grateful that you are with us every day.
Even days when it feels like you are not present,
on painful days, and in trying times,
we know that you are here with us
and care for us.
Be our healing today.

And we trust that you will be with us tomorrow,
whether we are officers or the people they serve and protect.
We do not know all that tomorrow may bring
but we do know that you will go before us
guarding our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus
and giving us the peace that surpasses our understanding—
the peace that is you.
Be our healing in all our tomorrows,
YaHWeH eka rophe, Lord our healer.

AMEN.

While trying to explain how I thought things had been set up the last time I called them, the “customer service” representative cut me off mid-sentence with, “No, uh-uh,” and then continued to not listen to me afterward.

That is unacceptable behavior from a woman who has worked for a Christian company for “8½ years.” Even that was said with an air of derision.

After yesterday’s rude treatment from “customer service,” we will not be renewing or purchasing additional resources. Who needs that kind of “service” or “ministry”? Not me. No, ma’am. Uh-uh.

“Form Follows Function”
Philippians 2:5-11
a sermon preached March 28, 2010

One of my favorite characters in a novel or movie is Howard Roark of Ayn Rand’s The Fountainhead. Ironically it was a best-selling novel in 1943. It is ironic not only because it was rejected by 12 publishers but because it is about a character and a subject that flies in the face of everything common and therefore easy. We do not usually like to purchase those things that call us common or point out our flaws so distinctly. But in this bestseller, society is nothing more than herded cattle. The story’s protagonist however, is anything but cattle; he is the archetypal cowboy—though in fact an architect by trade. Howard Roark may seem individualistic or even a loner but being an individual is not his quest. His quest makes him stand out from the crowd. His vision is not only artistic but acutely personal and as such it touches every facet of his brilliant life. He is not afraid to be alone or different or even shunned and misunderstood. But he is concerned about being wrong, or rather, about doing it right. He is certain of his quest and will fulfill it, however modestly society dictates, without wavering.

Howard Roark is an architect who will not recreate things of the past or design so-called modern buildings that are adorned with ancient facades so as to make them acceptable to the public and to critics. He refuses to give the public what it wants and instead gives them what they need, through they do not yet know and may never understand their need. His designs are crisp and true and completely new; they stand out like the drawings of an adult compared to a child. He has no equal and there are few who understand him.

Ayn Rand may indeed have been writing about Frank Lloyd Wright or she may have been writing about an idealized, even romantic notion of what man could be. I like to think she was talking about the model man who had broken free of tradition, the shape of what the human spirit could look like if it became what it was meant to be instead of what it had always been.

With that thought it mind, I would like to shift gears and leave Howard Roark behind us. He is not perfect; far from it. And he would not have us follow him or try to be like him if he even existed. But there was a maxim within the story that made him who he was, that made his building what they were. If we pull that maxim (the title of this sermon) into view, we see another character emerge—one we can and should follow and one who said, “Follow me.” His life was one that stood out, was individual, unparalleled, new, decisive, and passionate. More movies have been made about him, more books written, and more buildings designed than for any other being. Justly so.

What makes Jesus Christ so unusual is not that he is God or man or even God and man. It is not his teachings of themselves or his manner of life or his times. The beauty and the allure of Jesus for me is that the the form of his life followed its function so purely. Yes, Jesus was God and he could have called down 10,000 or so angels to straighten out the human mess by scorching the earth with the fire of divine wrath. But his function on earth urged him to give up his divinity for awhile, and take the form of a servant instead of a god. He could easily have taken the powerful form of any Roman deity and had followers in the millions. But his function was not to mimic the old ways; his task was to lead us into new life. Because his function was so well defined, the form of his life followed.

Jesus did not come to earth to be a good teacher, a moral guide, a lesser deity in a Trinitarian panoply, a political revolutionary, or any of the many molds men have tried to make him fit. Jesus came to be a servant of the Almighty God, one who would lead us back into the company of his Father God. And so, Jesus did not found schools, though tens of thousands of schools have been dedicated to him. He did not publish a rule book though countless books about his teachings have been written. He did not aspire to be God but emptied himself of divinity, though he has been exalted and given a name that will bring every knee low and cause every tongue to confess that he is God.

This is overlooked because of our English translations. The word kurios used here in verse 11 and elsewhere in the New Testament is the same word used in the Old Testament when the penmen were endeavoring to be reverent. In the Septuagint, that great Greek copy of the Old Testament scriptures that was the Apostles’ Bible and even Jesus’, they would not write out the name of God, Yahweh. Instead, they wrote the Greek word Kurios or Kyrios, a word that translates as “Lord” but means “one that exercises supernatural authority over mankind.” Over 5,700 times Kurios is substituted for Yahweh (or more accurately for YHWH). This practice is carried over into the New Testament and is seen here juxtaposed: the idea of Jesus emptying himself of divinity in verse seven and being extolled as God in verse 11. But Jesus did not come here to be a powerful and compelling god.

Jesus could also have set up a new human form of government and demanded  civil obedience but he did not because it was not his function, though some like to think that there is at least one form of government that is supposed to be godly. Those whose lives are wrapped up in this pretense of a Christian government are lost to an exercise of futility. One may try to live right and govern rightly but life is not ultimately about either morality of government. Life is about following Jesus. But where? The “where to” is the function that the form of Jesus’ life took shape around.

Everything about Jesus’ life was about showing us the Father, showing us the way to his Father, and finally making a way for us to God our Father. The form of Jesus’ life followed this function with each step of his short life. Were it not so, we would have a world government today that follows Jesus. This is what the devil tempted him with in the wilderness when he said he could have all the kingdoms of the world if he would just bow to Satan’s will instead of his Father’s plan to save us. But Jesus’ life had a function, a purpose, and he would follow it no matter what form that function dictated. Were it not so, we would have a religion of power that serves his needs instead of a way of life that serves the needs of others. This is what the devil tempted him with when he said make these stones become bread. But the form of Jesus’ life shows the way that leads to the Father and not to self. Were it not so, we would have an unreal, Utopian sort of world where nothing can hurt us and nothing ever goes wrong. This is what the devil tempted Jesus with when he said throw yourself off the pinnacle of the Temple and God will have his angels bear you up. But the purpose of Jesus was not to test his Father’s love but to show us that love through a form of life that loved us most completely.

And so Jesus came to die because form follows function in the life of the Savior. Jesus’ life and thus, his death follow the form of God’s love. For no other reason did he die. He did not die for the mob wish. He did not die for the Pax Romana. He did not die to shame us for killing a good man or a moral guide. He died because of a Father’s love. He died because it was his purpose that in dying death would die. And so, for the believer, death is not dying; it is to live forever in the fellowship and love of God.

Have this mind, this attitude, this function in your own life.

“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.