Sermons By Alan Bentrup

A sermon for our Blue Christmas service

No wasteland is too far gone for God to restore it. No person or situation is so dead that God cannot find life in it. That’s what we’re preparing for this Advent season… for the hope, the joy, and the love of God that is coming to transform this desert world.

Thank you for believing in the mission of this church, for being companions together in faith, and for being a reminder of the love of God to all you encounter in the world each day. I am grateful for you, for this place, and for the ways God’s dreams are continuing to be revealed in the midst of us.

And that’s why we renew our baptismal vows on this day. To remind ourselves that we are loved and chosen and part of God’s kingdom. To remind ourselves that we take our place in the communion of the saints. To remind ourselves that we belong.

Whatever is going on in your life, whether death or divorce or pain or fear or shame…that’s the place where Jesus stops, looks up with love and acceptance, and calls you back down into a new life.

The life of faith is not a race that can be won. It can only be run. It can only be endured.

We can argue over values, or debate worldviews, and even disagree on whether some ancient words on pottery should be read left to right or right to left. But if we focus too much on that, it only leads to division and hatred and ruin. What we are oΛered, and what we are called to oΛer the world, is Jesus Christ. That’s the Gospel. And that’s the Word that endures.

We don’t always get a chance to thank the people who have impacted our lives. And we don’t always know the lives we’ll impact. Who is part of your legacy? Who are the people that shared and showed the love of God to you? Who are the people that made you feel welcome, that made you feel important, and made you feel loved? Who are your Eunice and Lois and Lacy?

These words rang true for Timothy. These words rang true for the Queen. And I pray these words ring true for you and for me… “But as for you, children of God, shun all worldly things… Shun power and riches and fame and control and division and hatred and ego… And pursue good things… pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, gentleness, endurance…. Fight the good fight of the faith; take hold of the eternal life, to which you were called…” (6.11-12)

I say that every week. Everyone is welcome at God’s table. Everyone. Even me, and even you. Because Jesus found us all. Therefore let us keep the feast.

Jesus calls us to get rid of anything and everything that comes between us and God and each other. That is why the picture Jesus draws in today’s Gospel is so vivid. Following Jesus is hard. Following Jesus is costly. Because Jesus calls us to be all in… Are you ready to cross that line?

We can no longer just see the people who can do something for us, and instead look for the people the world overlooks. And we need to see that we all are in equal need of grace and mercy in the eyes of God. And we’re all equally loved in the eyes of God. And if we are in equal need of grace, and we’re all equally loved, we can no longer participate in a system that places more value on some people and less value on others? As we accept Christ’s invitation to join him at Table in the Kingdom of God we must admit that we are only there because of God’s grace and mercy and love.

In a world full of too many rules, too much fear, and too much sadness that tries to convince us otherwise, we are set free from all sorts of bondage. Like the woman in today’s Gospel, we are set free to live in the miracle of new life and second chances and amazing grace and reckless love, every day, in Jesus’ name.

Like Mary singing about what she knows God will do, we carry that same expectant hope of what God in Christ is doing in and through and around us. A hope that sees hate and meets it with love. A hope that sees failure and meets it with opportunity. A hope that sees brokenness and meets it with wholeness. A hope that sees fear and meets it with faith. A hope that sees death and meets it with life. If that isn’t hope, I don’t know what is. And that’s a hope that our schools…our churches…our world is longing for.

Fearless faith isn’t a straight line where we decide to follow God and never doubt or question or fail or want to turn back. Fearless faith doesn’t mean we never struggle with our faith. Fearless faith doesn’t mean we never deconstruct our faith. Fearless faith is taking the next step, knowing God is there. Fearless faith means trusting that God is here, with us, even when we don’t feel it. Fearless faith is believing that God continues to be present, even when we lack the certainty of a vision, or the certainty of direction, or the certainty of anything.

Our historical marker this week is BOLD PRAYER. Followers of Jesus are marked by bold prayer. Despite our enslavement to sin and brokenness and pride and shame, we pray boldly. Our circumstances don’t always change when we pray. But we change. Our hearts and our minds change, as we boldly proclaim that God has been, is, and always will be working in and through us.

We practice the radical welcome of Jesus who turns the world upside down. Everyone is welcome in God’s kingdom. And everyone is welcome at St. Martin’s. As Jesus continues on his journey to Jerusalem, he leaves behind him individuals, households, villages, and a whole world that will never be the same. Because they have glimpsed a new vision of God’s radical welcome.

I have a friend who has the word “hope” tattooed on her arm. It’s a reminder to her of God’s presence and faithfulness in times of gut-wrenching pain and grief. For her, it calls to mind 1 Thessalonians 4:13…”we do not grieve as those who have no hope.” Even when we don’t feel it, we are people of hope. Even when we’re all tears and broken hearts, we are people of hope. Even when it seems like a pinprick of light down a really long hallway, we are people of hope.

The fullness of God is unbearable. The fullness of God is too big, too beautiful, too wild, to be understood, explained, or contained.

How long, oh Lord! We lament. We yell. We grieve. But we don’t grieve as the world grieves. We don’t grieve as people who have no hope. Even in the midst of weeks like this…. Even in the midst of heartache like this… We hope. We have Easter hope.