"Faithfulness On The Baptismal Journey" February 25, 2007 Lent 1

(First read the text for this sermon: Luke 4:1-3)

Jesus had a strange idea of what it meant to be the messiah. It was strange, at least, compared to what most people expected. Major portions of Hebrew prophecy had led God’s people to expect the messiah to be a political/military leader who would free God’s people from oppression, and who would restore Israel as a strong and powerful nation, as it had been for a very short period of time under King David. Other sections of Hebrew prophecy had led God’s people to expect that, when the messiah appeared, there would be unmistakable and astonishing signs of salvation on earth, for instance that:

The cow and the bear shall graze,
their young shall lie down together;
and the lion shall eat straw like the ox. (Isaiah 11:7)

And that human beings:

shall beat their swords into plowshares,
and their spears into pruning hooks;
nation shall not lift up sword against nation,
neither shall they learn war any more. (Isaiah 2:4)

Did Jesus fulfill any of those sensational expectations of who the messiah would be and what he would do? No! Not a single one! In fact, in the gospel stories, whenever Jesus does anything extraordinary, he wants to keep that quiet! “Don’t tell anyone,” he is all the time saying to his disciples, when he performs a miraculous healing, or appears, transfigured on a mountain top. (Of course, the word gets out anyway, and Jesus is unable to keep a low profile, and the religious leaders respond to that by wanting to kill him.)

We could say that, in this morning’s passage, Jesus is tempted to be sensational! He resists each temptation. Doesn’t that surprise you? Don’t you think it would help Jesus’ cause if he would perform the kind of breathtaking deeds that would get him on the cover of People magazine?

The first temptation for Jesus arises from his physical hunger. The devil tempts Jesus to be sensationally self-centered, urging him to “command this stone to become a loaf of bread.” But Jesus resists the temptation. If he gives in to his self-centeredness, he would not be faithful to the Father. Jesus would not be faithful to the kind of messiah he was called to be. For Jesus, it’s a question of faithfulness on his journey to Jerusalem.

Next, the devil tempts Jesus to sensational political power and authority over all the kingdoms of the world. All Jesus needs to do is to worship the devil as a higher power than the Father. Obviously, Jesus must resist that temptation to receive such sensational authority. The pre-condition would cause him to be unfaithful to the Father. Jesus would not be faithful to the kind of messiah he was called to be. For Jesus, it’s a question of faithfulness on his journey to Jerusalem.

Finally, the devil takes Jesus to the very city of Jerusalem – where Jesus will die. The devil tempts Jesus to go ahead (already, in this fourth chapter of Luke’s story), to put himself in sensational physical danger, to throw himself off the pinnacle of the temple, so that he can be rescued in a dramatic way by the holy angels who would certainly be sent. But Jesus resists this temptation too. If he gives into it, he would not be faithful to the Father. Jesus would not be faithful to the kind of messiah he was called to be. For Jesus, it’s a question of faithfulness on his journey to Jerusalem.

Faithfulness on the journey. This journey is not Jesus’ alone. You and I are called to be faithful on the same journey. It is the baptismal journey.

That’s what we see when we pay attention to how this story begins. We read, Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan … Remember what had happened at the Jordan river? That’s where Jesus had just been baptized. That’s when he had been called to his work, when he had been given his ministry. We read in the story in Luke: when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased." (Luke 3:21-22) That’s early in the gospel of Luke; in only the third chapter. The rest of the stories in the gospel describe Jesus’ faithfulness to his call from the Father – to be messiah in a way entirely unexpected, right up to a shocking death on a cross.

You and I are called to be faithful on our own baptismal journeys. Hopefully, you and I will not suffer as Jesus did, as a result of our faithfulness! But we might. For you and me it is the same question of faithfulness on the journey, in the midst of daily temptations to be other than what God calls us to be.

For Jesus, the temptations took place at the most dangerous moment. As the story begins, we read, Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, … The wilderness is where life is most challenging and confusing and even hostile. The wilderness is uncharted territory. It is desert. It is where the demons are.

For you and me, the wilderness might be three o’clock in the morning, when we’re lying awake, full of anxiety. For you and me, the desert might be when we’re bored and unfulfilled by the work we’re doing. The wilderness could be when you’re grieving, or when you’re wounded. What is your path of faithfulness? What is your call?

One of the reasons why I love my conversations with college students is because they are so actively listening and discerning what work God is calling them to do. Their journeys began when they were baptized, but now they are striking out as adults, and they are desiring to be faithful.

But it is not true that we are called to the work God gives us to do only once, when we are young. The circumstances of our lives change. Relationships are broken, by death or by conflict. Occupations change, either by our own initiative or by others’. We are sent into harm’s way through military service. We retire and encounter the opportunity to give our time to new activities and ministries. A loved one faces serious illness, or we do ourselves. All along the journey, circumstances change. Needs present themselves. And we discover gifts from God we never knew we had.

And yet, all along the journey, we are tempted to turn away from the God who yearns to love us and to shower us with grace and to welcome our response of faithfulness.

The season of Lent reminds us that we are on the baptismal journey. Our baptisms are our commission for our ministries, and our ministries become visible in distinctive ways: the way we treat others and ourselves with grace and kindness; the way we practice generosity and forgiveness towards others and ourselves; the way we care for the poor and work for justice; the way our lives are marked by a healthy humility, in the knowledge that we are entirely dependent upon God’s grace.

When we live in those ways, others see that. It’s so counter-cultural! We become witnesses for the way of Jesus, following the model he set out for us, as messiah. And we live as the people God created us to be, living faithfully on the baptismal journey.

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

Pastor Andy Ballentine
St. Stephen Lutheran Church
Williamsburg, Virginia

"Releasing and Receiving God's Grace" Ash Wednesday February 21, 2007

(First, read the text for this sermon: Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21)


There was a night this past October when I thought I was going to die. I was still at home. It was before I went into the hospital. I couldn’t lie down flat in the bed, because that provoked violent coughing. I could only take shallow breaths. I knew what it would feel like to die of respiratory failure.

At one point, in the middle of that night, I got up and pulled out the medical “Advance Directive” form that I had had for more than a year. I wrote out some instructions (knowing that they didn’t have any legal weight, because they weren’t witnessed and signed by a non-family member – but I did it anyway). And I made some notes about wishes for my funeral.

I was so frightened that night!

A week or so later, I truly was at the edge of death, in the hospital. I don’t remember much about those days. (As a respiratory therapist said, “Yeah, we have great drugs.”) There were periods during those days when I was awake and even communicative, but because of the sedation, I have little memory even of those periods. It was later on that Patty told me about those terrifying days while they were desperately searching for a diagnosis. She lived through those days consciously, of course, while I was sedated. I experienced the terror in retrospect, when she told me about what I had put her through.

But that’s all in the past, right? Now I’m all better! I’ve even been blogging to an audience far and wide about how strong I am! How I’m back to activity in the work I love. How I’m eager each day when I wake up. I’ve put all that medical trauma behind me!

And one of my wise correspondents is impatient with that. She wonders why it is that I’m covering up the terror of the hospitalization? Here’s part of what she wrote in her most recent letter:

What you’ve just experienced, what you’ve gone through won’t come to an end. You can’t shut the closet door on it, and jog on up the hill, leaving it filed away to be used as sermon illustrations when appropriate. It’s you. It’s another precious part of your time on earth.

Please revel in your soon-to-come bike riding, foot stompin’, hymn bellowing good health. I too give sincere, heartfelt thanks for its return. But also, in the goodness of time, please make friends with what came upon you. I believe there is wisdom and confidence and, most of all, compassion to be learned from meeting terror, feeling boundless love, and soaring with the spirit at a whole new level.

“Make friends with what came upon you,” she writes. Wow. What courage that would take. What I want to do, instead, is to cover it all up! To regain the illusion that I’m in control of my health and my longevity! Just to stuff all that unpleasantness down into my subconscious!

But there it would sit and fester. And there it would block God’s grace. I have received physical healing. But can I receive God’s spiritual and emotional healing, if I pretend that what’s down there isn’t down there? No. Of course not.

I’m using my experiences simply to point to something we all tend to do. There is much to be afraid of in our daily lives. Instead of confronting that and dealing with it, it’s much less threatening to try to cover up what scares us. But does that make it go away?

Andrew Wyeth is one of my favorite painters. Are you familiar with his work? At first glance, his paintings are of bucolic scenes. They remind me of where I grew up, which is only a few miles from where he lives in Pennsylvania. But Wyeth paints with the awareness that there is chaos just below the surface of what seems to be so peaceful, and that the chaos can erupt at any moment. If you’re alert to that, you see that in his paintings. Isn’t that true of our lives, too?

I’ve been talking with my cousin, Michael, during these weeks after the sudden death of his wife, Nancy, at age 54, of a meningitis infection. He’s the one who wrote the piece in the Baltimore Sun that I forwarded to you all. One of the readings that he named in that article is by Calvin Trillin, about his wife, Alice, who suffered from cancer. In one place, Trillin writes, “To live fully is to live with an awareness of the rumble of terror that underlies everything.” In another place, Trillin writes of how Alice would always be taking care of someone: “a former student who couldn’t find a job or a friend who was having difficulty coping or a great-aunt who couldn’t manage to work through the maze required to become eligible for Medicaid or, increasingly, someone who was trying to deal with the terrors and bewildering logistics of being treated for cancer.”

We would rather not think about such things. We would rather push our fears down into a compartment of our unconscious and pretend that they’re not there. But they are there! And they hold us captive. Our fears block us. They close us off from God’s grace.

God calls us to release, so that we can receive God’s grace. That’s what repentance is. It is returning to God. It is releasing whatever it is that is closing us off from God’s healing grace.

Here’s the thing. Here’s the shocking good news: God is in the terror, right there with us. That’s what it means to confess that God became human flesh in Jesus the Christ: that God is in the midst of every human experience. And so, as you and I return to God, we name what it is, in us, that prevents the love of Christ from flowing into us. What is it that blocks that healing grace? That’s what we will enact liturgically, in a few minutes, by speaking words of confession. Lent is a grace-filled opportunity for candor, for release, for receiving grace from God.

What do you need to release?

Is it an emotional wound that you received? Is it a childhood message that you heard (even if it wasn’t spoken in so many words) – a message that you’re really not good enough; a message you haven’t been able to overcome? And so you can’t release; you can’t receive that grace from God that overcomes such a destructive message?

Are you held captive by a need to achieve for yourself, to earn what you deserve? That’s a feeling that you need to release, to receive that healing grace from God, grace that is entirely undeserved.

Are you held in bondage, perhaps, by an inability to feel thankful for the grace-filled blessings of each day? Why is that? Where is that coming from? How can you release that, to receive God’s grace?

Is there some other darkness inside that frightens you, that you’re afraid to admit is even there?

All of that stuff deep inside holds us in captivity, if we are unwilling to enter into the darkness and to “make friends” with it, so we can release it. I wonder what practices you can engage in, during this 40-day period of Lent (plus seven Sundays), to confront the demons, so that they will let go of you; so that you can turn away from them and turn towards God; so that you can release and receive God’s grace?

That, after all, is the purpose of the three faith practices that tonight’s gospel passage names. The purpose of generosity is to empty yourself, so that God can fill you up with grace. The purpose of prayer is to enter into God, which is a frightening thing to do when you’re being honest! The purpose of fasting is to let go of compulsions, to open up that tightly clenched fist. To release. To receive God’s healing grace.

Perhaps you and I can only gain the courage to enter into the darkness, to empty ourselves, to open our hands, when we remember that we are dust, and to dust we shall return. Out of such honesty, comes true hope. Because who entered into the deepest darkness of human life, and then overcame it? God did – in the flesh of Jesus the Christ.

That allows us to release and to receive God’s grace – because the only life that continues is life in God.

It is all grace. The season of Lent is a special opportunity, to turn towards God, to release, to receive grace.

In the name of God who is Father and Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.


Pastor Andy Ballentine
St. Stephen Lutheran Church
Williamsburg, Virginia

"Enlightened" February 18, 2007 Transfiguration Sunday

(First read the text for this sermon: Luke 9:28-43)

This is a mystical day: Transfiguration Sunday. We read one of the strangest passages of the whole year. Jesus takes three of his closest followers up on the mountain to pray. And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem.

Light is especially important to the theme of the Epiphany season. It is light that enlightens. An epiphany is an instance of something coming clear. (Look at that in this morning’s passage: you have Jesus’ face changing and his clothes becoming dazzling white; you have Moses and Elijah; you have God’s voice coming from the cloud that said, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” What more do you want?)

When we are enlightened by the light of Christ, we see the presence of Christ in everything.

That has certainly been my experience since coming home from the hospital in late November. I don’t take anything for granted anymore. I am so thankful! Each day, each morning is a gift from God’s grace. The ability to bathe and to dress myself is a gift of grace. The people who love me and pray for me are gifts of grace. The medical people treating me and that awful daily medication are gifts of grace. My work is a gift of grace. And, when the day’s work is done and it’s time for sleep, my warm bed is a gift of grace! At this point in my faith journey, after the trauma of my illness, it is so easy to see the presence of Christ. It is as if every small aspect of each routine day is illuminated by the light of Christ, enlightening me, so that I am conscious of everything as gift from God.

Have you had similar experience?

Listen to something that Symeon the New Theologian wrote, sometime in the 11th century, about the divine light:

"Light from light, light of immortality, light of the source of light, light of living water, mercy, peace, truth, the door of the heavenly kingdom; light of this heavenly kingdom; light of the wedding chamber, the nuptial bed, paradise, delights of paradise, sweet earth, crown of life, light of the saints’ garments; light of Christ Jesus, saviour, and king of the universe, light of the bread of immaculate flesh, resurrection, light of his face; light of his hand, his finger, his mouth, light of his eyes; light of the Lord, his voice, like light of light; light of the Comforter, the pearl, the train of mustard seed, the true one, the leaven, hope, faith: light!"

Symeon the New Theologian is as mystical as this morning’s gospel reading. But, of course, all of this mysticism is firmly rooted in the New Testament, with its many other references to the light of Christ.

For instance, there is the familiar prologue, in the first chapter of John’s gospel, which includes these verses: There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world. This is not simply a general enlightenment, remember, but the declaration that this light of Christ shows us who God is! We read these verses, also, in the first chapter of John: And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father's only son, full of grace and truth. … No one has ever seen God. It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father's heart, who has made him known.

Here’s another instance: the verses in Second Corinthians just following this morning’s reading. St. Paul continues his reference to both of this morning’s mystical stories, of Moses in the Hebrew Scriptures, and of Jesus’ transfiguration on the mountain top. Listen: And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing. In their case the god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelievers, to keep them from seeing the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God. For we do not proclaim ourselves; we proclaim Jesus Christ as Lord and ourselves as your slaves for Jesus' sake. For it is the God who said, "Let light shine out of darkness," who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.

When we are in deep darkness we know especially our desperate need for enlightenment by the light of Christ. In fact, we enact that liturgically – during the most moving service of the entire year, the Easter Vigil, the night before Easter. Worshipers enter into an entirely dark worship space. Not a single light is burning. We begin that service by entering into the darkness with the burning paschal candle, three times proclaiming: “The light of Christ!” Worshipers light their hand-held candles from that paschal candle symbolizing the light of Christ. In that act of liturgy, the light of Christ is “light shining out of darkness.”

You have experienced plenty of darkness. The light of Christ penetrates into the terror of a hospitalization for a life-threatening illness, to enlighten us with God’s presence. The light of Christ penetrates into the darkness of grief, to enlighten us with God’s presence. The light of Christ penetrates into the darkness of depression, or anger, or regret over something in the past, or fear of something in the future, to enlighten us with God’s presence.

Increased enlightenment is a gift of God’s grace that comes through prayer.

I’m not talking about self-centered prayer: prayer in which we think up things to ask God to give us. Increased enlightenment comes through mystical prayer, patient prayer, listening prayer, prayer during which we enter into the darkness of our lives and just sit there, with the Spirit. This is prayer that strips away illusions, and brings us to a clarity – of who we are and what we are, and who God is, and how God is moving in our lives. We come to a deepened awareness of God’s presence when we stop talking, in this sort of prayer, and simply sit in that divine presence. (Sometimes all of this can be figured out only with the help of a spiritual guide. Let me know if you’d like some guidance. I would love to walk with you in your journey.)

Jesus the Christ is our light into the God who is unknowable, because God is so much more than we can understand. Jesus the Christ is our light into God, who is indescribable, because God transcends any intellectual concepts we can have of who God is. The more conscious we become of this, through patient, listening prayer, the deeper our wisdom becomes.

For us Christians, it is enlightenment through the light of Christ.

Enter into the darkness, in your prayer.

Be patient. Listen.

Watch for the light.

Be enlightened.

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


Pastor Andy Ballentine
St. Stephen Lutheran Church
Williamsburg, Virginia

"Blessed Are The Poor, The Hungry, Those Who Are Weeping" February 11, 2007 Epiphany 6

(First read the text for this sermon: Luke 6:17-26)


I am so glad to be up here, for the first time in four months! It’s been a long time of sickness and recovery, and it gives us all a charge for me to be healthy enough to be back into worship leadership.

And so, to go along with this storybook ending to my period of illness, wouldn’t it have been nice to have a warm and fuzzy gospel passage, so that we could all be smiling and sighing? The problem is, we’re reading the gospel of Luke this year. And there’s not much that’s warm and fuzzy in Luke (once we get past the Christmas stories).

Now, remember where we are in the Church Year. During Advent, we enter into our longing for the messiah, our need for the messiah to come to save us. During the Christmas season we celebrate the birth of that savior! Then comes Epiphany – the season we’re in now.

An epiphany is an instance of something coming clear. And so, the purpose of the season of Epiphany is to be clear about what it means that God has come into our human flesh, in the person of Jesus the Christ, whose birth we just celebrated only six weeks ago.

In Luke’s story, the coming of God into human flesh does not make people feel all warm inside. Instead, it causes an uproar! Look at how it’s happening. We’re in the sixth chapter of Luke this morning. At this point in the story, Jesus’ actions have provoked stupefied amazement in those who have been watching and listening! (See 5:9, 5:26). Think of Simon Peter’s reaction, in the story we read last Sunday morning. Do you remember how he reacted with fear and awe when he witnessed the miraculous catch of fish? He said to Jesus, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!” (See 5:1-11)

By this point in Luke’s story it’s even become dangerous for Jesus. By now the leaders of God’s people, the scribes and Pharisees are filled with fury at Jesus, because of his flaunting of the sabbath law tradition. (See 6:1-11) And now, it’s our turn to react! In this morning’s reading, it is as if Jesus has decided to set his sights on you and me, in our material comfort.
Listen to this, you disciples of Jesus:

Then he looked up at his disciples and said:

"Blessed are you who are poor,
for yours is the kingdom of God.
"Blessed are you who are hungry now,
for you will be filled.
"Blessed are you who weep now,
for you will laugh.”

This is not what we read in the gospel of Matthew’s version of the story! Matthew’s wording is more familiar to us, I’ll bet, because it’s easier for us to take. In Matthew, Jesus says, “Blessed are the poor in spirit.” In Matthew, Jesus says, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.” Those words are warm and fuzzy – because we all know how poor we are in spirit! Each one of us hungers and thirsts for good to triumph over evil!

But, this year, we’re reading Luke, and not Matthew. And it’s very stark in Luke.

"Blessed are you who are poor,
for yours is the kingdom of God.
"Blessed are you who are hungry now,
for you will be filled.
"Blessed are you who weep now,
for you will laugh.”

To be blessed means to receive God’s favor. And so, here, God takes the side of the poor, and the hungry, and those who weep. That’s true, in fact, throughout the Bible. God takes the side of those who suffer, over against those who are comfortable!

We read in this morning’s passage, "Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven; for that is what their ancestors did to the prophets.” That is Jesus’ situation, at this point in the story of Luke, because Jesus has shown God’s favor to those who are poor and hungry and weeping, those who are powerless; and he has shown God’s utter disdain for human beings’ religious practice when it’s empty religious practice.

It seems to me this gives some commentary on the controversy over the Wren Chapel cross. If the gospel of Luke is accurate, then all the emotion being expended both in defense of the cross or in support of its removal is entirely beside the point of what God desires.

I wonder if God cares about the religious symbols we have created for ourselves? If the Wren Chapel cross were to be restored to 24/7 display, would that in itself please God? Or would that only be empty religious practice? Instead, isn’t it our actions that please or displease God?

The cross is a symbol, of course, and it symbolizes many things to people, according to their religious backgrounds. To Jews and Muslims, the cross symbolizes death. To Christians, I would hope, the cross symbolizes Jesus’ humble servanthood rather than triumphalism, because Jesus died on the cross. And so, here’s what would please God: if those who organized and attended the candle light vigil in support of the cross would now devote their energy to ending the tragedy of homelessness in our community. “Blessed are you who are poor,” says Jesus in the gospel of Luke. “Blessed are you who are hungry.” It would please God if those assassinating the character of President Gene Nichol would turn their anger instead towards the fact that there are members of our community who die every day because they have had no health insurance and thus have received no preventitive medical care. “Blessed are you who are poor,” says Jesus in the gospel of Luke. It would please God if the energy being expended in defense of the cross was used instead to set up a community-wide visitation program so that no member of our community would be isolated and lonely. “Blessed are you who weep,” says Jesus in the gospel of Luke.

Look at what comes next, in this morning’s reading from Luke.

"But woe to you who are rich,
for you have received your consolation.
"Woe to you who are full now,
for you will be hungry.
"Woe to you who are laughing now,
for you will mourn and weep.
"Woe to you when all speak well of you, for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets.

Do you know who is rich, as the Bible defines that term? A person is rich if he has enough money to buy food and shelter and clothing for today, and has some money left over for tomorrow. Which means, as the Bible defines the term, that all of us here are rich! Woe to you – and me – who are rich, and with full bellies, and who laugh over the TV sitcoms – while there is so much poverty and hunger and weeping in the world.

Are you thoroughly depressed by now?

Is there any good news in this passage from Luke? (After all, when I finished reading it, I did say, “The Gospel of the Lord”; and you did respond, “Praise to you, Lord Christ. I heard you!”)

The good news in this passage is risky and shockingly radical in our culture. When you live according to this good news, I doubt that you are hated and excluded and reviled and defamed on account of the Son of Man – but I’ll bet some of your neighbors think you’re nuts, because you’re not as comfortable as you could be; you’re not spending as much money on yourself as you could be.

According to Jesus in the gospel of Luke, too much money and too many material possessions and overabundant material comfort hinders the love of God. The good news of this morning’s passage is that we don’t have to be burdened by money and material possessions and material comfort, because there is really very little that we need. There is tremendous freedom and joy when you don’t worry about maintaining a portfolio! That is the shocking good news in this passage!

What is the consolation of being rich today? Does money buy happiness? Does a full belly today satisfy our real hunger? Does our laughter today cover up what’s terrifying inside? Woe to us, if we think any of that is true!

The good news that Jesus brings is that we can turn away from all such illusion! Jesus calls us into startling joy and freedom when we defend and minister to those who are blessed by God: those who are poor, those who are hungry, those who are weeping.

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


Pastor Andy Ballentine
St. Stephen Lutheran Church
Williamsburg, Virginia