The Only Thing That's Real

Luke 2:1-20

This Christmas marks the 20^th anniversary of my father’s sudden death.  He died of a heart attack at the age of 61 on the Sunday before Christmas as he was getting ready to go to church with my mother.  When I got the news, I was getting ready to go and lead worship at two small, rural congregations where I was filling in for the local pastor.  I went.  I didn’t know those people well, but they surrounded me with Christ’s love and mercy and promise as a brother in Christ.  They ministered to me more than I ministered to them that morning.  They were the Church for me.  My father’s funeral was held on the afternoon of Christmas Eve in my hometown church in Wisconsin.  The women of the church served a dinner for us following the service.  I will forever be grateful for their willingness to do that on short notice, on Christmas Eve, no less.  After the dinner, we went to the early Christmas Eve candlelight service as a family. 

Throughout those surreal days, as I was overcome by the shock and grief of my father’s death, that candlelight service was the only thing that seemed real to me.  The story of the birth of the Christ anchored me.  The familiar story of Mary and Joseph, the angels and shepherds and the baby in the manger grounded me.  But it was more than just the familiarity of the carols and candlelight that gave me a solid place to stand.  It was the hope for me and for a world shattered by death contained in that story that carried me through those awful days.   It was the same hope that moved those small congregations to embrace me, even though I was, more or less, a stranger, and allowed those hometown women to set aside their Christmas plans and serve my family dinner.  It is the same hope that has carried disciples of Jesus and the children of God through thousands of years of history filled with shock and grief, sadness and sorrow, suffering and struggle. 

The Christmas story is real.  Sure, it’s been glossed over by stories of Santa, holiday sales, and a host of other traditions that seem to have little or nothing to do with the baby in the manger.  But something about this story keeps bringing people back to congregations all around the world year after year.   I believe that something is hope.  Hope is something we all desperately need.  Hope is something we all desperately crave, especially in a world filled with uncertainty and terror and tragedy and fear.   I believe that a part of all of us is looking for something to believe in; a faith that matters.  

The Christmas story is real.  But, its staying power is not ultimately grounded in a manger in Bethlehem, but on a cross and in an empty tomb in Jerusalem.  It is in Jesus’ death and resurrection some thirty years following his birth that the hope born on Christmas came to fruition.  It is in the promise that, in Christ, death will never, ever have the last word that the true meaning of Christmas can be found.   It is there that we hear the good news of great joy that the Savior, the Messiah, has come for you, for me, for the people in those small, rural congregations, for the women who served us, for my father and for all peoples everywhere who live in the shadow of death. 

Peace and Blessed Christmas,

Bishop Mike

Share the hope and promise of the Christ Child with someone this Christmas!   Thanks for reading.

The One

Matthew 11:2-11

“Are you the One, or should we wait for someone else?”  (Matthew 11:3)

For many, December is the season of waiting and preparing.   For many children, it is the long, long month of waiting before the presents arrive under the tree.  For many adults, it is the season of shopping to find just the perfect gift for everyone and prepare for parties and family gatherings.  For many, it is a month spent just wishing it all would be over.  A season of sadness, depression and struggle.  In many Christian traditions, it is the season of Advent.  A season to reflect on the birth of Jesus, the Messiah, and what his coming means to us and to the world.

Just who the child born in Bethlehem around the year 4 BCE was and is for the world has always been a matter of debate.  Even in his own time, people wondered.  Sure, he drew crowds.  He did wondrous works.  Some followed. Some did not. Some found him offensive and worked for his downfall.  As we hear in today’s lesson, even John the Baptist had his doubts.

Today, people relate to Jesus in a whole variety of ways.  Savior.  Liberator.  Teacher.  Prophet.  God in the flesh.  Historical figure.  Symbol.  Myth.  Swear word.   Theologians write and debate about who Jesus is.  Preachers and evangelists call people to follow him.  People gather to worship him, praise him and give him thanks.   Others, with John the Baptist, ask, “Are you really the One?”

I have spent my whole life, as a believer and as a leader in the Church, working out my own understanding of my relationship with Jesus and his meaning for my life and the life of the world.  It is and always has been a work in progress.   I believe that the Holy Spirit has guided me along the way through the stories of scripture, and through teachers, mentors, guides, preachers, friends and sometimes even through total strangers.   But, all along that twisting way, I keep coming back to the same thing:

Jesus is the One who fully embodies the God of steadfast and enduring love who created and sustains me and the universe.   Even more, Jesus invites me to live in that love and to live out of that love every day of my life. 

For me, Jesus’ answer to John’s servants makes that clear.  You want to know what Jesus is about?  Look at the compassion, healing, mercy, forgiveness and expansive welcome that characterized his life and ministry.  But, beyond that, look at how, in love, he died on a cross at the hands of all human hatred, brokenness, suffering, sorrow, depression, cruelty and violence.  Look at how God raised him up three days later, proving that the power of God’s steadfast and enduring love is stronger even than death.

That is the gift that I celebrate each Christmas, and on every Sunday as I gather with others to rejoice, give thanks and pray that God would use me and the Church that bears Jesus’ name to transform the world.  

Peace,

Bishop Mike.

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A Voice Cries

Matthew 3:1-12

A voice cries in the wilderness…

I was a freshman in college.   He lived across the hall from me in the dorm.  One night, he told me he was gay.  He shared his struggles and fears with me.  I was one of the first people he ever told.  

A voice cries in the wilderness…

A few years later, an African Descent friend and I were sitting together late one night in the Campus Ministry Center.  We were studying and talking.  He told me stories – painful stories -- about what it is like to grow up black in America.

A voice cries in the wilderness…

On my first trip to Guatemala we spent ten days at an orphanage.  We heard the stories of suffering and loss caused by years of civil war;  of families torn apart by poverty and violence,  of parents willing to make the awful choice of giving up their children in hopes they would find a better life.

A voice cries in the wilderness…

“Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight!”

These experiences, and many others like them before and since, opened my heart and my mind to the coming of Christ; to the coming of the One who reached out to the poor and powerless, the outcast and rejected, the hopeless and the lost sheep of this world.   They prepared the way for the One who reaches out with grace and mercy, but also with a call to repentance and a change of heart.  

In each of these encounters, I met Christ.   I met God.   And it changed me.

That is why I continue to believe that the Church of Jesus Christ must both repent our idolatry of possessions, privilege and power, and also listen to the voices of the “least of these” in our world today.   We must walk alongside immigrants and refugees, people of color, LGBTQ people, Native peoples, peoples of other faiths and others the world would put down, put out or simply run over.   I firmly believe that it is in relationships that we encounter God in one another.  It is in these relationships where we discover that God does not just call us to celebrate what we have in common, but to rejoice in what makes us different and unique.   It is in relationships that we can overcome the negative stereotypes that are borne on thirty-second sound bites, tweets and Facebook posts.

The voice of John the Baptist is still reverberating in the wilderness of our world.  The voice of John is still calling us to turn and look and see God.  The voice of John is still preparing a way into our hearts and lives, so that the love and grace of the Lord might take root and grow among us.

A voice cries in the wilderness…

Are you listening?

Peace,

Bishop Mike

Thanks for reading!

The Cross at the Center

Luke 23:33-43

As I read this week’s Gospel text, I am struck by all the activity that swirls around the cross of Christ.  Front and center in the picture painted by Luke are the two criminals crucified with Jesus.  They draw our attention.  One joins those who are taunting Jesus, challenging him to save himself and prove he is their kind of messiah.  The other acknowledges Jesus’ innocence and asks Jesus to remember him.  But if we step back, we see others standing there too.  There are those who have nailed Jesus to the cross.  Roman soldiers still holding their hammers.  There are the ones casting lots for his clothing.   Others are mocking him and offering him sour wine.  These are the instruments of oppressive power and authority in that Judean world.   If we step back a bit more (and beyond Luke’s painting) we see the women who had followed him weeping, and the religious leaders looking on with smug satisfaction on their faces.  But, at the center of it all stands the cross.  At the center of it all hangs the Lord of Life.   In the midst of all that pain and suffering and yes, evil, God Reigns.

That’s exactly where we find Jesus today.  

We find the cross of the Lord of Life at the center of the divisiveness, the turmoil, and the oppressive powers and principalities of the world.  Jesus stands between the mocking crowds and those who cry out to be remembered.  God still Reigns.

That’s exactly where the Church which bears Christ’s name need to be too.

In our worship space at the Luther Center at the University of South Dakota there was an amazingly powerful piece of art.  It was done with stain on wooden slats.  Kind of like a vertical wood floor.  The cross was at the center, Christ’s arms outstretched.  Surrounding the cross were depictions of the suffering, the hurting and the disenfranchised of our world.  A prisoner.  Murdered children.  An elderly woman leaning in a rocking chair, her back to the viewer.  Some students found it disturbing.  Others found it to be a powerful reminder of what it means to follow a crucified Lord. 

In life and death, Christ could always be found among the poor and powerless and oppressed of the world.  As people who place our faith in a crucified Lord, we need to stand with him.  We need to stand with all those who are living out his compassion, mercy, life and healing in a world that is filled with mocking, death and brokenness.   My prayer these days is not only “Jesus, remember us when you come into your kingdom,”  but even more, “Jesus, help us to remember you.”

Peace,

Bishop Mike.

Thank you for reading.  Bishop Mike will be on vacation next week, so won’t be writing an “On the Way.”  Have a blessed Thanksgiving!  See you in Advent!