Homicidal Maniacs, Seven Miracles, and Sociology

“What is truth?”  This is question Pilate asks Jesus.

The good news for us is that this morning we’re going to get an answer.  2000 years of wondering about truth is all going to be solved today.  Lucky us.   <smile>

To better understand what’s all going in today’s Scripture, we’re going to take a quick dive into history.  (I got most of this from the book The Upside Down Kingdom by Donald Kraybill, which continues to be one of the most influential books on Jesus I’ve ever read)

At the time of Jesus, the Roman Empire was busy sending their armies all over the world and conquering new territories.  And one of those territories was what is now modern day Israel and Palestine. The homeland of the Jewish people.

But… the Jewish people, for some reason or another, didn’t like being ruled by a foreign power.  I know, right?  I can’t imagine why.  And so, history tells us that they were notoriously difficult to rule.

When Jesus was born, the Roman Empire had set up a puppet king named Herod the Great.  He’s the one we read about at Christmastime when the magi went and visited him.    There were two important parts to Herod the Great’s job:  Make sure the locals pay their taxes, and maintain the peace.

Unfortunately, King Herod was a homicidal maniac.  So after the magi told him about Jesus being a new king, he was pretty sure a new king wasn’t ‘maintaining the peace’, so he ordered the murder of all the children 2 and under.

That one’s bad.  And there are lots more.  But to put an emphasis on what kind of king Herod was, here’s one more story.  Near the end of his life, he knew he was dying.  But he didn’t want people to celebrate his death.  So on his death bed he ordered Jewish leaders be put in jail.  And he gave the orders that when he died, they were all to be killed, so that the people of his kingdom would shed tears on the day that he died.

Homicidal maniac.  (Lucky for everyone, after he died, his orders were not followed, and the captives were released.)

After he died, his puppet kingdom was split up and given to 3 of his kids – Herod Antipas, Philip, and Archelaus.

These puppet kings had two main responsibilities:  Make sure the locals pay their taxes, and maintain the peace.

Philip did fairly well at managing his part of the kingdom, so the history books don’t have much to say about him.

Herod Antipas was a bit worse.  We read about him cutting off the head of John the Baptist after John called him a fox.  (Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can never hurt me. Unless you call me a fox.  Then I’m going to cut off your head.)  After 42 years of ruling, the Romans put him into exile.

But Archelaus – What a disaster he was.  He was in charge of the kingdom that included Jerusalem.  At the start of his rule, he removed the high priest and installed his own.  And then a riot broke out.  And then soldiers were sent in to stop the riot. And then the soldiers were killed by the rioters.  And then Archelaus had 3000 people killed in retaliation for that.

But, that kicked up some more revolutionaries.  A former slave named Simon led a rebellion against all the palaces and estates of the wealthy.  A former shepherd named Athronges led a rebellion for a few more years.  And then there was another guy named Judas who became a flaming revolutionary and declared himself king and ruled for a few months.

But the Romans weren’t really okay with this, so they sent in a legion to stop all this nonsense.  They burned down the hometown of Judas, sold its population into slavery, and killed 2000 more people just to make sure they got the point.

And this doesn’t include that time that people were chucking stones off the roof of the temple onto the heads of the Roman soldiers.  Or the assasins called “Daggermen” who hid in caves.  Or the Zealots who thought the only good Roman was a dead one.

After Rome came and “cleaned up the mess” of Archelaus, they installed a Roman governor to govern all of Judea.  And that governor had two main jobs:  Get the locals to pay their taxes, and maintain the peace.


Pontius Pilate

And at the time of Jesus’ death, the guy in charge was name Pontius Pilate. Pontius Pilate ruled for a few years, but was eventually removed from his position for massacring some Samaritans.  One Roman historian recorded Pilate’s rule as “marked by corruption, violence, degradation, ill treatment, offenses, numerous illegal executions and incessant, unbearable cruelty.”Are you noticing a pattern here?

If this all feels a bit like the TV show Game of Thrones, yes… That would be a very good comparison.

Another one of the dynamics here is that throughout all this violence, the religious leaders in Jerusalem were busy trying to lead their people.  They were trying to faithful to God.  They were trying to maintain some form of independence from the Roman Empire.  And they were also trying to ensure that their people wouldn’t kill the Romans so that the Romans wouldn’t come and obliterate them off the face of the Earth.   Let me tell you, when we have our staff meetings here at church, we do not have on our agenda “How to keep our church members from being massacred by a foreign army?”   We talk about who’s preaching next week.

So that brings us to today’s story.

As part of being under Roman rule, the religious leaders weren’t allowed to kill people.  That power laid with the Roman authorities.

But the religious leaders were probably afraid of a whole bunch of things… They were afraid that this Jesus character was going to mess up their gig.  They were afraid about their own of sense of identity and purpose, because nobody really likes changing jobs that they’re good at.  And… and this is key… They were afraid that the people are going to declare Jesus to be King.  And if there’s a new king in town, that will bring the wrath of the Roman armies, and dang it, that’s a lot of extra funerals to do on the weekend.

So they want Jesus gone. Done away with.  Killed.  They had a meeting, and they said “If we let him (Jesus) go on like this, everyone will believe in him, and then the Romans will come and take away both our temple and our nation.” The head priest Caiaphas said “You do not realize that it is better for you that one man die for the people than that the whole nation perish.”  John 11:48, 50

So they bring Jesus to Pilate.

Now, Pilate doesn’t live in Jerusalem, as his palace was on the coast in Caesarea Maritima, about 120 km away.  So why is he in Jerusalem?

Well, we don’t know for sure, but we can take a pretty good guess.  What are Pilate’s two main responsibilities?  Make sure the locals pay their taxes, and maintain the peace.  And the weekend that Jesus died in Jerusalem was the Passover.   It’s the Jewish festival where they remember the Israelite slaves leaving Egypt… Which can also be told as a story of the Jewish people being freed from the shackles of an oppressive foreign government…

A festival celebrating freedom from an foreign oppressive regime in a region known for violent uprising against foreign oppressive regimes might make Pontius Pilate’s responsibility of “keeping the peace” at little bit difficult.  Jerusalem is like a tinderbox, ready to explode.

And so here we are.  Jesus is before Pilate.

Now, based on this text alone, I don’t think Pilate cares much about Jesus.  I think all he cares about are maintaining the peace and taxes.

So he asks Jesus if he is a king. Because, you know, having a rival king would be bad.

And pay attention to Jesus’ response:  “My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight to prevent my arrest by the Jewish leaders. But now my kingdom is from another place.”

My kingdom is not of this world.  My kingdom is different.  It’s one you don’t understand.  You clearly understand violence, as that’s how both the Roman Empire and Jewish revolutionaries work.  But my kingdom is different.  It doesn’t need violence and taxes to govern it.  It’s about love… self-emptying love.  For everyone.  Even our enemies.  It’s about peace and forgiveness and kindness and gentleness.   And it doesn’t have borders. My kingdom is from a different place.

I don’t think Pilate really gets what Jesus is saying.  All Pilate hears is Jesus admitting to being a king:  “So you are a king, then! “

Okay, this is a big deal because this is the first time in the gospel of John that Jesus declares himself to be king.  This is the first time that he owns the title.

And why is this a big deal?

Because the gospel writer of John spends the first 11 chapters of his book describing 7 miracles, or signs of Jesus.  (We preached on some of them.  But Easter is early this year, so we ran out of Sundays to preach on all of them.)  These signs are:

Changing water into wine.

Healing the royal official’s son

Healing the paralytic at Bethesda

Feeding the 5000

Jesus walking on water

Healing the man blind from birth

The raising of Lazarus from the dead.

Now, if someone turns water in wine and feeds the hungry and raises people from the dead, they would surely be made king.   I mean, who here in Canada wouldn’t vote for free healthcare, free food, and free alcohol?!?!

And Jesus knew this.

And he said…. No.

Here’s what we read after he feeds the 5000.

After the people saw the sign Jesus performed, they began to say, “Surely this is the Prophet who is to come into the world.”  Jesus, knowing that they intended to come and make him king by force, withdrew again to a mountain by himself.”

When Jesus was the hero, he didn’t claim he was a king.  Even after all the miracles.

But it’s here, in front of Pilate, where Jesus is arrested, vulnerable, a prisoner, alone, betrayed, at the mercy of others, facing death… It is here where Jesus declares himself to be king.

What kind of king is that?  And what kind of kingdom is that?

We understand Roman armies and taxation.  We understand modern day armies and the CRA.  We understand aircraft carriers and strong borders and nuclear weapons.

But a kingdom of vulnerability and self-emptying love?  That’s ridiculous.

Pilate thought so too.  That’s why he didn’t order Jesus to be killed.  He probably thought Jesus was delusional. Any of us here could declare ourselves to be Prime Minister, but without an army, a show of force, some rules of engagement, nobody would take us seriously. We’re not a threat to Ottawa.  People would just say we’re delusional.

And so Pilate didn’t find any basis for charges, because Pilate was operating out of the the kingdom that he understood.

And Pilate gave the people a choice too.  They can have their vulnerable king Jesus, or they can have the violent revolutionary named Barabbas.

What’s interesting about Barabbas is that in some translations, he’s referred to as a bandit.

And the other time that the word bandit is used in the Gospel of John is in John 10, where the bandit is contrasted with the good shepherd.  The good shepherd loves his sheep, gives his live for his sheep, while the bandit steals and destroys.

 So again Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep.  All who came before me are thieves and bandits; but the sheep did not listen to them.  I am the gate. Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture. The bandit comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.” John 10:7-10

Do the people want the good shepherd?  Or do they want the bandit?

They chose the bandit.  “Give us Barabbas!” the crowds shouted. They too, chose the kingdom that they could understand.  They chose to play the game of thrones, where you win or you die.

A quick aside – Like footwashing, self-emptying love like forgiveness, these are decisions that we make for ourselves, as individuals or communities.  We can’t force people to choose the Good Shepherd while we choose to be bandits to them.  A manifestation of this is the unholy alliance between church and state, especially related to the history of colonialism. The missionaries would show up, invite people to follow the good shepherd, and simultaneously the “Christian” state would show up and act like bandits.

If I am actively oppressing someone, I can’t tell them to choose the shepherd.  They are free to make that choice, but it cannot be forced.  Christianity is not about coercion.

Okay.  Moving quick aside is done.

 “You are a king, then!” said Pilate.

Jesus answered, “You say that I am a king. In fact, the reason I was born and came into the world is to testify to the truth. Everyone on the side of truth listens to me.”

“What is truth?” retorted Pilate.  (Pilate sounds like he’s in a first year sociology course learning about postmodernism).

Maybe Pilate asked the wrong question.

Maybe Pilate should have asked “Who is truth?” Because that’s how Jesus answered him.

Jesus says that he is the truth.

And that’s a bold claim, isn’t it?  The arrested, vulnerable king facing death, is truth?  That’s the way of God?!?

This is where we let the artists speak for us.  A poet wrote in Isaiah 55:8-9,

For my thoughts are not your thoughts,

            Nor are your ways my ways, says the LORD.

For as the heavens are higher than the earth,

            So are my ways higher than your ways

            And my thoughts than your thoughts.

In my Lenten readings, Walter Brueggemann writes, “It is not your way.  You would not have imagined this alternative way nor been able to predict it, and you surely cannot control it.  There is a way into the future in your life, because God is at work doing strange, wondrous things for you and in spite of you.  And your job is to get your mind off your ways of need and control, to give your life over to God’s large, hidden way in your life…”

“The poet holds out to the exiles (and to us) an alternative way, the waters of baptism, the bread of the Eucharist, the wine of new covenant, the capacity to risk and trust and obey, and then to find ourselves safe and joyous, close to God, and enlisted for a very different life in the world.”

Let’s pray:

God of becoming, be with us as journey through Lent.  May we learn to relinquish our old ways to that we are ready to receive your newness.  Amen.   


The St. Lawrence River, Life Sentences, and Super Bowl Commercial Flops

Many of us here know about a river in Quebec called the St. Lawrence River.  But do any of us know why it’s called the St. Lawrence River?

Well, before Europeans settled Canada, the Iroquois lived on it and called it Kahnawáʼkye, which means “The Big River.”


But it’s still referred to as the St. Lawrence River today because Jacques Cartier, who was the first European to see the river, entered the estuary of Kahnawáʼkye on St. Lawrence’s Feast Day.

But do any of us know who St. Lawrence is?

This is a picture of him.

And do you see what’s behind him there, that metal square like thing?

It’s a griddle.  Like an actual griddle.  Just like the ones we put over campfires for our bacon and eggs in the morning.

But, of course have to ask, “Why in the world is St. Lawrence depicted with a griddle?”

Well, the year was 258, less than 200 years after the gospel of John was written, and before Christianity was the official religion of the Roman Empire.

And since Christians kept declaring that Jesus was Lord (and thus that Cesar wasn’t), they were viewed as a threat to the Empire, as people whose patriotism was suspect. So at the time Emperor Valerian declared that any bishop, priest, or deacon should immediately be put the death and all their wealth be confiscated by the state.  And so relatively quickly, Pope St. Sixtus II was captured and executed in Rome.

At the time, St. Lawrence was a deacon of the church, and he was in charge of the treasury.  And so the prefect of Rome summoned St. Lawrence and demanded that he turn over the riches of the church to the Roman Empire.

Upon this request, St. Lawrence asked for 3 days to gather all the riches of the church.  And he was granted those 3 days.

And do you know what he did?  During those 3 days, he took all the riches of the church, and he gave every penny away to the poor and homeless.  He gave it all away.

And then, on the third day, he gathered up those whom he had given the money to, and they all walked to the prefect of Rome.  The prefect was expecting gold and silver, and when he saw St. Lawrence leading his unique band of followers, the prefect asked:  “Where are the riches of the church that I demanded?”

St. Lawrence replied “Here are the riches of the church!  And you will never be as rich as they are!”

Yeah, well that didn’t go well with the authorities. I can’t imagine why not.  So they made a big bed of hot coals, and put a big griddle over those coals, and placed St. Lawrence on them until he died.

Legend goes on to suggest that after a while of laying on the griddle, St. Lawrence lifted his head and yelled “I am well done.  Turn me over!”

And this why he is the patron saint of cooks and chefs.

St. Lawrence died on August 10.  And that is the day that Jacques Cartier sailed into the St. Lawrence River.

Deep within our Christian tradition we have the image of a towel and a basin, the story of Jesus washing his disciple’s feet, of Jesus serving, of Jesus inviting us to serve.

At the time of Jesus, do you know who did the foot washing?

Slaves.  Some scholars point out that it probably was primarily women slaves who did the foot washing.  So for Jesus to do what he did and get on his hands and knees and wash the feet of his disciples, finding a good 2018 comparison is difficult.

I asked on Facebook for some modern day examples, and some people suggested it would be like CEOs cleaning toilets (like undercoverboss!), or like us cleaning up at hotels and the movie theatres instead of us leaving our garbage for the staff.


Pope Francis tries to model this.  Two years ago he got down on his hands and knees and not only washed and dried the feet of 12 Muslim migrants, but he also kissed them.  And last year he went to a prison and washed the feet of inmates, some of whom were serving life sentences.

In my Lent readings this year, Watler Brueggemann has offered this:

“Get your mind off yourself long enough to care;  be so concerned about the well-being of the human community that you don’t have to worry about your place, your church, your class, your values, your vested interests.”  – Walter Brueggemann

The image of the master getting down on their hands and knees to wash someone’s feet, is profound.

But it’s not only profound in how counter-cultural it is.    It’s also profound because it foreshadows the self-emptying love of Jesus.

It’s the embodiment of one of the oldest hymns we have as found in Philippians 2.

In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus:

Who, being in very nature God,
    did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage;
rather, he made himself nothing
    by taking the very nature of a servant,
    being made in human likeness.
And being found in appearance as a man,
    he humbled himself
    by becoming obedient to death—
        even death on a cross!

The Greek word for this is kenosis – Self-Emptying Love. It’s the renunciation of one’s own status in the world to love others, and treat others better than ourselves. Kenosis is the way of Jesus.

A quick aside, but an important one. Foot washing. Kenosis.  Self-Emptying Love.  Serving.  These are voluntary acts on our part. They cannot be used as tools of manipulation. “I served you, and now you need to serve me!” Kenosis is not about people owing you favours.  Nope.  It’s about love freely given.

For example, in today’s story, it takes place the night before Jesus is crucified.  And we read that Jesus washed the feet of all 12 disciples… Including Judas.  And that very night Judas still betrayed Jesus.

And Jesus didn’t play the “Hey man… Don’t betray me.  I washed your feet two hours ago!”

Genuine acts of love come with no strings attached.

But, while we’re talking about Judas…  Can you believe that Jesus washed his feet?  The same night that Judas betrayed him?

I, for one, would not want to wash the feet of Judas.

I would want to throw rocks at Judas. But I guess the pacifist side of me might show up, so instead of rocks I’d at least make a snide Facebook post about Judas.  But definitely not wash his feet.

So here’s a question for us today:

Whose feet do we not want to wash?

I can think of lots of reasons why I don’t want to wash certain feet.   And every time I do, I am reminded not only of the example of Jesus, but also the commandment of Jesus.

“Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet.   I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you.”   – John 13:14-15

This is part of the deal.  This is part of following Jesus. This is part of declaring Jesus to be Lord.  We don’t get to decide if we should serve or not.  We don’t get to decide who gets served or not.  We serve.

Here’s some good news.  If we do these things, if we don’t consider ourselves better than others, if we get on your hands and knees and wash the feet of others, if we are able to serve those around us, Jesus says that we are blessed.

“Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them.” John 13:17.

Not #blessed, like you are going to get good health and financial security.  Not #blessed like God is going to do something big to knock your socks.  God is not like Santa Claus, where he’s keeping a list of who’s naughty and nice and going to give us a present or a lump of coal.    Jesus himself still died the next day.  Jesus being a “good guy with a good heart who helped people” didn’t spare him from being crucified.  St. Lawrence was still burned alive on a griddle.  There’s no guarantee that we’re going to get anything out of serving.

Rather, this is the blessing.  When we serve, we already are blessed.  “When we serve, we are close to God and live in God’s presence.” (Jean Vanier)  When we serve, we are already living the abundant life Jesus promises. When we serve, we are already living the grace-filled peaceful life that transcends time.  That IS the blessing.   Serving others IS the blessing.

And here’s some even better news – We don’t have to be famous or a leader to serve.  We don’t have to the deacon in charge of the treasury like St. Lawrence.

During the Super Bowl a few weeks ago, if you were able to watch some of the American commercials, you might have seen a truck commercial that featured people doing things and some trucks driving around.    And throughout the background was the voice of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr, giving a speech about serving.

The ad was pretty much considered a flop.  Like, don’t use Dr. King to sell trucks.

And then, people started digging a little bit deeper into Dr. Martin Luther King Jr’s entire speech, and then it came out that the speech was actually an anti-consumer speech!  It was a speech advising people to not care about upward mobility, not to care about keeping up with Jones’, but to serve. And the speech even went so far as to say don’t trust the advertisers because they are telling you that in order to make your neighbours envious of you, you must drive this type of car.

That was a really expensive Super Bowl Ad flop.

But, the words behind the ad… Those are great.  Here they are:



Lent. Desert. Life.

Lent is starting today.  I’ve known for a while that it’s coming (you know… being a pastor and all).  And I’ve been wondering what these 40 days before Easter will bring to my soul.

A few weeks ago, Alana Levandoski emailed her Patreon supporters a song called Hymn from the Desert, about how sometimes the desert shapes us.  That same day, one of my kids brought home a Dr. Seuss book about deserts.  I could name this as coincidence.  Or I could name it as something divine. (Actually, does it really matter?)

I found the word desert to be a good word to sit with, as I sense that I may be in one.   Just a little one, but something feels off a bit inside me.  Maybe it’s the cold and dark of winter.  Maybe it’s a full schedule.  Maybe it’s the expectations I feel others have of me. And maybe it’s because it’s been 3 months since the sudden, tragic death of a loved one and grief is an unpredictable beast.  I’m having a hard time precisely naming it, other than knowing it’s there.

So I’ve settled on the word desert.

And in the desert, one is thirsty.

Thirsty for rain.  Thirsty for living water.  Thirsty for life.

“Lent is an opportunity to give up something is sucking the life out of us so we can be filled with God, with life, with love again.”  – Shane Claibornne

So I have asked myself two questions:

  • What gives life?
  • What takes away life?

So, I’m going to wake up early and practice Centering Prayer, followed by working through Walter Brueggemann’s book A Way Other Than Our Own.  I’ve done this in the past, so I know I find life in these spiritual practices (We’ll see if my kids will blow out my candle each morning again).

And to make up for the lost sleep (since that takes away life), I’ll do my best to head to bed early (it’s a good thing Easter is early this year so this won’t affect the Jets making the playoffs).

40 days. That doesn’t seem too hard, does it?  Maybe one of the beautiful things about Lent is that it’s only 40 days, so I have a definite goal to work towards (unlike those pesky New Years resolutions, which have no end date other than when we quit 5 days in).

Maybe I’ll find life in the desert.  Maybe I won’t.  Either way, I’m looking forward to the next 40 days, as I’m quite sure God can be found in the desert too.

Grace and Peace,


Smashing the Patriarchy, The Rock, and Luxury Cars

A sermon based on John 7:53-8:11, traditionally known as Jesus and the Woman Caught in Adultery

So, two quick things before we hear this morning’s scripture.

Number 1.  If you read this story in your Bibles, it’s probably italicized, and has a disclaimer saying that this story isn’t found in the earliest manuscripts.  I did a bit of research on where this story came from, and why it’s here, and honestly, I can’t give you a great answer. Some people suggest it’s two different stories mashed into one and just stuck in here because the text flows.  Other people suggest Luke wrote it and it actually belongs near the end of Luke’s gospel.  Others say the story floated around independently for hundreds of years.  I can’t give you a great answer.

But what I can do is give a great question:  As we we listen to the story, and as I preach, in the back of your mind, wonder… Why was this story left out of the earliest manuscripts?  And why did it eventually get inserted into the gospel of John.  Why do you think it was left out, and why do you think it was added?

Number 2.  My sermon today might be a tad unsettling.  For all of us.   I’m going to say some things that I think the text could be saying to us, some hard things to hear, so I wanted to let you know that my usual disclaimer is in place:  You are all free to agree or disagree with me, if you want to continue the conversation we’ll be meeting in the side room after worship, but most importantly, some of the unsettling things I’m going to say unsettle me as well.  So with whatever I say today, I’m not saying them “against” you, but rather I’m saying them “with” you.  We’re all in this together.

So, you come to church on a Sunday, singing your hymns and enjoying the children’s story, and then a mob of men come through the front doors and down the middle aisle, bringing forward a woman.  And they are debating whether or not they should throw stones at her for committing adultery.

That’s a pretty dark scene, isn’t it?

What would you do?  What would we do?

Well, there are obviously many different ways one could respond.  But let’s start today by asking a question:

Where is the man?

Like, one does not commit adultery by themselves.  So, where is the man?

Was he at home?  Taking a nap?   Maybe he was visiting his parents in the nursing home?

Why does he seem to bear none of the consequences for adultery, while she faces death?  He’s supposed to, as Leviticus 20:10 says that they’re both supposed to die.

“If a man commits adultery with another man’s wife—with the wife of his neighbor—both the adulterer and the adulteress are to be put to death.”

So where is he?

It’s probably worth noticing that the Pharisees and teachers of the law were all men too.

We can name it for what it is:  Patriarchy.

Patriarchy is a system of society or government or religion in which men hold the power and women are largely excluded from it.

The men make the laws, the men carry out the laws, the men decide who lives and who dies, and conveniently, the man who committed adultery is nowhere in the picture.

One of the ways to understand this story is that it is Jesus confronting patriarchy, of giving this woman, and all women, the dignity and worth and safety that they deserve.

To borrow a popular phrase, we can say that Jesus is smashing the patriarchy.

When I was on Sabbatical, Ash and I went to a conference in Chicago called “Why Christian”, where they featured voices of people who have historically been left out, sidelined, or oppressed by Christianity.  So the speakers were all either women, people of colour, or sexual minorities.   When the list of speakers was published, and it was all women, people would ask the organizers… “I only see women speaking.  Is this a women’s conference?”   Their response?  “If there were only men speaking, does that mean it’s automatically a men’s conference?”

Of the 1000 of us who attended, I’d venture to say that 80% of the attendees were women.  And during one of the breaks, I went to use the washroom. And, as I got near the door, there was a grandma standing in front of the men’s room, and she said to me “I’m sorry, you can’t go in there.  We’ve taken over.”  To which I responded:  “You know, I’m all up for smashing the patriarchy with you, but I really need to go to the bathroom.”  She said, “No. I’m sorry.  You gotta go somewhere else!”

Smashing the patriarchy is great in theory and all, but there are some real consequences, people.  What about us men?  <smile>  (I don’t think I’m getting much sympathy from at least half of you right now).

In fall, I was talking to someone who was thinking about coming to our church.  We were in the basement, and one of the question she asked was, “Can women be leaders here?”  To which I replied, “Of course they can!  God calls forth both women and men to lead equally!”  And then her eyes drifted to the pictures of all the previous pastors put up on the wall.  “Oh shoot,”  I thought.  “We have only hired men as pastors.”

That was a really uncomfortable conversation for me, people.  I quickly chimed in:  “Despite our long history of hiring men as pastors, we really are cool with women pastors.  Like, really.”

Now, I actually think we do a pretty decent job here at Grace trying to get a gender balance in most of the thing we do… We are intentional about asking women to lead in a variety of ways.  But we haven’t hired any women pastors.

I wonder why.  Maybe none applied?    But then I wonder, why have no women applied?

And, to reiterate, I’m with you on this one. This isn’t a shot at anyone. I actually think we’ve hired good people over the years.  I’m grateful you hired me.  And when Mel was hired all those years ago I was a regular church member sitting in the back, and I don’t remember wondering about our history of hiring male pastors.  (Although, for the record, I am really glad we hired him…).

But the next time we hire a pastor, we need to intentionally sit with the question of why a church that affirms women as leaders, has yet to hire a female pastor.

Smashing the patriarchy can be… unsettling.  But I am quite sure it’s worth the discomfort.


Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson has nothing to do with my sermon other than it’s about throwing stones.  But last sermon I used a picture of  Zooey Deschanel, so I figured I’d aim for a gender balance.  Plus, that sermon got about a 400% increase in hits, so I guess this is also blatant click bait.

Speaking of smashing things, do you know that you can follow the Bible and stone someone?  Like, you actually can.  The religious leaders were holding rocks in one hand and their Holy Scriptures in other.

You can follow the Bible and stone someone.

But can you stone someone while following Jesus?

Why would we want to stone someone in the first place?

I’m going to go somewhere here now, as gently as possible.   But I think this text speaks volumes to us as to why we’d want to stone someone in the first place.

Last month, I was talking to a friend…   And she asked me question:   “Kyle, why is someone’s sexual orientation such a big deal some churches? I don’t get it.”

Okay.   I’m going to tell you what I told her, but I do so hesitantly for a few reasons. Here are my disclaimers.

  • If you identify as LGBTQ+, or have friends or family who do, you are beloved, and you bear God’s image as much as anybody else. You always have and you always will.
  • We at Grace have asked ourselves,  “Regardless of someone’s age, race, culture, gender, marital status, sexual orientation, wealth, education, religious background, disabilities, or different abilities, is our church a place where they can explore and grow in faith in Jesus Christ?  Our hope is yes.   We can totally talk about whether or not we are succeeding at this or failing at this, but this is what we’re aiming for.
  • And I am really hesitant to even compare the woman caught in adultery with sexual orientation because I consider one’s orientation similar to whether or not someone is left-handed… I actually leave the “sin” part of the conversation right out. We’re not comparing apples to apples here.
  • Also, the woman caught in adultery faced being stoned, and I am aware that violence against sexual minorities is still a very real threat.  So I am treading lightly.

So those are my disclaimers.  But I think we can move forward from here.

I told my friend, “I think it’s a big deal to some for many reasons, but I think here are two big ones.”

  1. First deep within our DNA as churches, especially Mennonite churches, and as Christians, is the idea of purity. Not, like sexual purity, but that the point of faith is to “sin less.” Purity is the underlying value.  And, we come by it honestly. Deep in the history of Christianity we find leaders emphasizing Ephesians 5:27 –… “[the church should] be radiant, without stain or wrinkle or any other blemish, but holy and blameless.”  Sin less. Don’t sin.   This partly explains the long history of Mennonite revivals, and thus churches splitting.  Flee from sin at all costs.
  2. Secondly, as we are seeking to not sin, we have to define sin. And the easiest way for us to define sin is to name something that’s really obvious, and open, and a sin we are most likely not to commit.    So, sexual orientation, and actually most “sexual sins” becomes an easy target in churches because many of us aren’t likely to sin that way.  Or at least, we can keep it a secret (until there’s a baby, or we’re caught in the arms of another lover).  It is easier to highlight and name and blame people who are “sinning” in ways that we are not likely to sin.  That way we will not be called hypocrites.  And it’s easy to be pure, it’s easy to be a church without spot and wrinkle, it’s easy to be in a church that doesn’t sin when we banish sin from our midst. We blame it, shame it, exclude it, we excommunicate it, we shun in, we stone it, and it feels good, because we are doing what God wants us to do.

But, for other sins that might hit a bit closer to home?  Oh, we are way more cautious.  When it comes to our wealth, and how we spend our money, and the luxury cars we buy, and the renovations we do on our houses… Oh, well, that conversation needs nuance.  Because we can’t stone everyone who buys a new luxury car with bells and whistles that we probably don’t need, can we?

Or.. take hospitality.  We read in Genesis 19 that God destroyed the entire towns of Sodom and Gomorrah, and then in Ezekiel 16:49-50 we explicitly read that it was because they weren’t hospitable to foreigners.

Now this was the sin of your sister Sodom: She and her daughters were arrogant, overfed and unconcerned; they did not help the poor and needy.  They were haughty and did detestable things before me. Therefore I did away with them as you have seen.”

Using my Bible, and some “interesting” biblical interpretation skills, I really could make the case that God’s going to destroy any church that doesn’t sponsor refugees.   Like, wipe them off the face of the earth like Sodom and Gomorrah for not practicing hospitality.

Or, if I wanted to be a little gentler, I could simply make the case that they are sinning, and we are not.  That we are following God’s law better than they are.  And that kind of feels good, doesn’t it.

If we frame our entire understanding of faith as “sin less”, we inevitably find a “sinful” target to blame, shame, exclude, excommunicate, to shun, or to stone.

And, if those targets end up being people with less social capital, less resources, less power, we will end up with blood on our hands.  Holocausts and lynchings and refugees crossing fields in winter and sexual minorities and women caught in adultery.

And we can do it all with a stone in one hand and a Bible in the other.

So, here’s an unsettling question for us all today, including me, because I especially love throwing stones at people who throw stones (so… maybe I should just skip a few steps and throw the stones at myself?).

Whom do we want to throw stones at?   

Here’s the good news.

Jesus doesn’t throw stones.

He forgave the woman, invited her to make better life choices, and then let her leave in peace.

And… Lent starts on Wednesday, and as we start looking ahead to Good Friday, we find that Jesus is the victim of mob violence.   “Crucify him!  Crucify him!” the crowds yelled.  The chief priest actually says in John : “It is better for one man to die for the people than that the whole nation perish!” (John 11:50).

By Jesus becoming the target, he reveals the entire system for what it is.  Violent. Evil.  And unnecessary.  And he then he actually goes one step further and offers forgiveness to the very people who are killing him.

Jesus doesn’t throw stones.

And the closer we are to Jesus, the less we want to throw stones at each other. – Shane Claiborne.

That is good news indeed.

An Apology, Boring Church Services, and Zooey Deschanel

A sermon based on John 3:1-21

Okay, first of all, I need to start my sermon with an apology.  When I preached a few weeks ago, I didn’t communicate clearly.

I made the comparison of how someone asking if anything good can come from Nazareth is like Dog River speaking ill of Wullerton in Corner Gas, or how Steinbachers make fun of Grunthal, and how we need to repent of our arrogance.

The feedback I received was the most passionate and immediate I’ve ever received in 8 years of preaching here, and I’ve said a lot of things.  But of this feedback, there were definitely two camps.    I will apologize to both of them.

The first camp was those of you who are from Grunthal, or have family there, or love it, and you felt you had to defend it, and were a bit miffed at me comparing it to Wullerton <spit>.  I am sorry for not clearly communicating how our arrogance and conceit are sin.  Nobody is better than anybody else.  I have coached ultimate Frisbee for the past 7 years in Grunthal, and I have genuinely seen the light.

But the second camp… You were the ones who came up to me in the foyer and started telling me jokes about Grunthal, and how the only good thing to come out of Grunthal was highway 205.  I am sorry for not clearly communicating to you how arrogance and conceit are sin.  And nobody is better than anybody else.  There will be alter call after today’s sermon, and you’ll be invited to come as you are to repent and be born again.

But the worst that week was Mel.  Yes, wise Pastor Mel, whom I missed so much when he was on Sabbatical.  He was the worst because in the office that week, he introduced me to a new teacher from the Red River College English classes.  He said “Kyle, this is so and so, and she’s from Grunthal.  Hey, you mentioned Grunthal in your sermon on Sunday. Why don’t you tell her what you said?”

After I told her that I invited people to repent of their arrogance, she said to me, “Oh, don’t worry about it.  I may live in Grunthal, but I’m from Kleefeld, and Grunthal think they’re better than Kleefeld, so I get it.”

(And we won’t even start with the Mennonite town, French town thing).

We do this wonderful ability to divide ourselves up and declare ourselves better, don’t we?  We take a piece of our identity, an important and good and healthy piece of our identity, and we sometimes put it up on a pedestal and use that position to criticize and disparage others, and think we’re better than them.

I think that’s what happened with the “born-again” over the past several decades.  The phrase was used to describe those of us who made a deliberate decision to follow Jesus, an acknowledgment that Jesus is Lord and that we give Jesus the right to tell us how to live.   To be “born-again” was an attempt to articulate all sorts of good things that we Christians participate in:  confession, repentance, salvation, growing in relationship with God.

But what some of us turned it into was a checklist of things that we use to prop up our own sense of self, our own sense of rightness, often at the expense of others.  So being  a “born again” Christian meant something else, something special, something better, than the other Christians.

Great example: I grew up Catholic here in Steinbach, and I distinctly remember being told in Grade 10 Geography that Catholics are not Christian.  I didn’t take kindly to that assertion, so I responded with some ingenious non-violent resistance by taking that kids binder and writing all over it “Catholics are Christian!  Catholics are Christian!”  I think I converted him that day <smile>.

As I was preparing this sermon, I actually had quite a few stories of people being told “Are you born again?  You should probably say a prayer, just to make sure you’re good.”  Or, “Some Christians believe, but we, true Christians, believe this.”  Or, if we’re flying somewhere and the stranger next to us asks “Are you a born again Christian?” we quickly put in our earphones?  They were so easy to come by, I took most of them out.

But I do think it’s remarkable how something that can be a good part of our identities, can become something toxic. I think it’s because we the labels we use, such as Mennonite or Evangelical or Born Again or Catholic or Christian…  I think we use these words, very earnestly and well intentioned because they’re an important part of our identity and do a decent job to describe how we try to live in this world.  But when we use those labels to divide the world up into categories, or make ourselves seem better than others, well, yeah, I think we’re setting ourselves up for some disappointment.

We’re going to come back to the phrase “born-again” in a bit, so just hang on to it a bit

Let’s go to John 3:16.

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.”    This is probably one of the most well-known verses in the Bible.

I preached on this verse 6 years ago.  I found my old sermon, and I kind of still liked it, which is surprising, because usually I re-read old sermons and think “What was I thinking?”

So, many of you weren’t here 6 years ago, so this might be new.  And some of you might have been here 6 years ago, but I’d be pleasantly surprised if you remembered it!  But I’ll risk it and repeat some of what I still find to ring true.

John 3:16 has been understood as a pathway to get to heaven (eternal life) and avoid hell (perish).  That Christianity is about spending eternity with God, playing our harps on streets of gold, and most of us will surprised to see that Mennonites aren’t the only ones in heaven.  <smile – That was a joke>.  Some people call it fire insurance… others call it God’s evacuation plan.

But I don’t really think that’s what this verse is saying, though.  It’s one of these questions about reading Scripture:  Are we reading what the text is saying?  Or are we reading what we think the text is saying?  What came first, the chicken or the egg?  Is the text shaping our thinking?  Or is our thinking shaping how we read the text?  In this case, I think that when we read the words eternal life and perish, what we end up doing it taking take our pre-conceived ideas of heaven and hell and applying them to the text.

Why do I think this? (Thanks to Shane Hipps in Selling Water by the River for spelling this out so clearly to me).

When we read in English “eternal life”, the Greek words are aion zoe.  Which we have traditionally translated as eternal life, the literal continuation of time as we know it.  365 days a year, over and over and over again.  Billions and trillions of years.

That is not the proper translation of aion zoe.  Aion zoe is not forever and ever and ever in the afterlife.

Aion has two meanings:

The first is that it means an age, a period of time.  Something that has a beginning and an end.  Not forever, but a tangible timeframe.  For example, if you see someone at Sobeys you haven’t seen in a while, you say:  I haven’t seen you in forever!  You’ve been gone for ages!  You don’t mean literally millions of years.  You mean:  I haven’t seen you the last time I saw you.  A beginning and an end.

Or we say:  The hippie era was a good era.  By driving your electric VW van, you are really capturing the spirit of the age of the hippies.  Woodstock was so great, it was like I was there, man.   Beginning, end.  An age.

The second definition of aion means an intense experience that transcends time.  Positively, it’s like a good movie.  You’re having such a good time, 60 minutes passes and it feels like seconds.   Kind of like church on Sunday morning.  Or, negatively, Aion is like a boring university lecture, or a sermon about the Greek words used in John 3:16 might only take 20 minutes, but it seems like hours.

Aion.   So it’s an intense experiences that transcends time, but has a beginning and an end.


Zoe, besides being a very popular name for children, and the same name as my favourite actress, Zooey Deschanel, it means life, but not life on the surface, like the things we do or what happens to us, but existence itself.  Like no matter how great or how hard life is at any moment, we still breathe in and we still breathe out.  Easily or barely, we breathe. Zoe is life itself.


Zoe goes by other names in English.  Some call it the human spirit, the divine spark.  Others call it unconditional love, others call it grace, and others call it the peace that passes all understanding.

So eternal life, aion zoe, is the intense experience of peaceful, grace-filled life that transcends time.

God loved the world so much that he sent his one and only son so those who believe in him can have aion zoe.

But what about the word perish?  That surely means hell, right?

No.  Jesus refers to Hell only a handful of times in all of the gospels, and the only people he sends there are either rich people or religious leaders.  Which is bad for pastors who live in suburbia.  And Jesus uses the word Gehenna, which was a dump outside Jerusalem where they threw dead bodies and was always on fire.

And even then, Jesus does not use the word Gehenna here.

The word used in John 3:16 is Apollumi.

And Apollumi can be translated:

Ruin.  Loss of personal welfare.  This is the word Jesus uses to describe the Prodigal son who took half his Dad’s wealth and partied.  He was apollumi.  Not dead, like dead not breathing dead.   Just ruined and missing everything good in this world.

It’s like saying:  You’re dead to me.  You’re not physically dead, but the loss of personal welfare in your life.

So to summarize, for God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not experience ruin and a loss of personal welfare but have an intense experience of a peaceful, grace-filled life.

Yeah, I know.  Crazy.  Maybe we should just stick to making fun of small cities and towns that we don’t like.  That’s a lot easier, isn’t it?    Here are the rules, here are the categories, and it’s simple.  Toronto thinks it’s better than Winnipeg, Winnipeg thinks it’s better than Steinbach, Steinbach thinks it’s better than Grunthal.  Grunthal thinks it’s better than Kleefeld.  Kleefeld thinks it’s better than New Bothwell.  New Bothwell thinks it’s better than Randolph.  And we all think we’re better than Saskatchewan.

Here are the rules. Here are the categories.  It’s simple.

And then Jesus tells Nicodemus – No.  You think you have it all figured out, but no one can see the kingdom of God without being born again.

Born again is a metaphor.  All language for God is metaphor (this goodie is from Richard Rohr).  Jesus uses metaphors ALL the time.  He’s always saying “It’s like this, or like that, or here’s a story for you.”   Born again is a metaphor.

Nicodemus doesn’t get really get it, as he asks how one can re-enter their mother’s womb.

And then Jesus goes on and uses more metaphors and similes.  He talks about the Spirit being like wind… You can experience it, but you can’t see it.

And Nicodemus couldn’t understand.  Nicodumus thought he knew the answers.  He knew the laws.  He knew the rules.

But Jesus invites him to “think differently”.

That’s what I’ve settled on this week as a good understanding of “born again”.  Think differently.  God is bigger than any of us, and if we remain open to God working in ways that we don’t understand, then I think we’re on the right path.

Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without “thinking differently”.  Think differently about money, about power, about control, about success, about surrender, about servanthood.  Think differently about enemies, about who’s first and who’s last.  Think differently about about the stock market and political parties and our country. Think differently about our own sense of certainty. Think differently about winning and losing.

And I think, when we are able to do this, to open ourselves to God’s infinite possibilities, to God’s upside down kingdom, then I think we’re opening ourselves up to aion zoe –  For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not experience ruin and a loss of personal welfare but have an intense experience of peaceful, grace-filled life that transcends time.

Now that’s quite the invitation, isn’t it?

Summer jobs grant, women’s reproductive rights, and persecution – I don’t get it.

Re: the Canada summer jobs grant and abortion and religious freedom

So the government wants organizations who receive summer student funding to check a box saying they agree with women’s rights to access abortion. And religious organizations are calling it discriminatory, claiming persecution, and talking about religious freedom.

Umm… Am I missing something here?

  1.  Isn’t the government allowed, and expected, to attach terms and conditions to their funding? So, if we don’t like their terms and conditions, then we don’t take their money.  Seems simple.
  2.  But what if organizations need the money?  I have a better question… Since when do we expect the government to help fund religious groups and activities?   If all those day camp workers and camp counselors are so important to us, then surely we can fund them ourselves, right? And not rely on the government? (Any religious libertarians in the house here?!?! I’m not a libertarian, but seriously… God might have put you on Earth for this very moment!)  I’m a firm believer that if it’s important to us, we should back up our convictions with our wallets.
  3. I’m confused about the religious freedom argument. Nobody is telling us, or these organizations, what to think or believe about women’s reproductive rights. Or even how to act. People are still free to believe and do what they want, pro-life, anti-life, pro-choice, anti-choice, or whatever labels we use. It’s just that some of us might not get government funding. Which is far cry from actual persecution. We’re not losing our jobs, our homes, our churches, our charitable statuses, and I’m quite sure we’re not facing any physical threats.  When did not receiving government money to pay teenagers minimum wage became a form of persecution?
  4. Will this lead to the actual persecution of religious folk? Or governments telling us what to believe? Please google “slippery slope fallacy.”  And, for the record, when the government starts telling people what they can and can’t believe or do (such as removing niqabs when riding the bus, as opposed to simply attaching terms to summer student funding), then I’ll join the religious freedom cacophony too.

A story that’s similar – A few years ago, our denominational magazine got a slap on the wrist by CRA for being too political because our editor was criticizing the Conservative government for something or another.  The crux of the matter was that the charitable status of the magazine was at stake. There was a minor uproar among some folk about freedom of the press and religious freedom, but others of us simply said “This isn’t a big deal.  If we don’t like their terms, we shouldn’t take their money (or, in this case, charitable status). Then we can be as political as we want.”  Is this not similar to the current summer jobs kerfuffle?

I just don’t really get it.

– Kyle

PS – I used inclusive language throughout my post (specifically “we”) because I work for a religious organization that has a charitable status with the government, and we follow their terms and conditions.  Please don’t lump me in with any “side”.  My ethic of life doesn’t fit anywhere on the political spectrum.

PPS – Also, I intentionally bypassed talking directly about women’s reproductive rights. I think that’s the flash point in this argument, but I’m trying to ask questions on a different level than “Is abortion okay/not okay?”  However, I think it’s safe to say that both “sides” of the argument are okay with trying to lower the number of abortions in Canada, so I’d recommend that the least we do is all advocate for free birth control, as less unwanted pregnancies will probably make everyone happy.  Plus, it’s a lot more effective than road signs.

PPPS – I’m going to leave the comments open until they become a gong show.  Thanks for doing your part in helping them not become a gong show.

24/7 News Channels, Zombies, and Small-g “grace”

Every year during Advent, as we wait in anticipation of God entering our world as a child, as we live the hope that God is going to come and set the world right, we encounter this guy.

John the Baptist.jbaptistbaptizing2

We follow a prescribed set of Bible verses for Advent, verses that are used by millions of Christians around the world.

And every year, we all together read about John the Baptist, calling out from the wilderness the words of the prophet Isaiah, “Prepare the way for the Lord.  Make straight the paths for him!”

Repent!  Jesus is coming!

One of the unique things about living in 2017 is the amount of information we get, and how fast we get it.  Between social media and 24/7 news channels and all of us having cameras in our pockets, what’s going on comes at as fast and hard.  Whereas some of us remembering having to wait til the 6 o’clock news, and some of us remember waiting until the next day’s newspaper, and still some of us remember town criers shouting in the city square, others of us have Twitter.

And it can at times feel a bit overwhelming, can’t it?  Or that our world is taking a turn towards something dark?

We read about climate change, and how the world will fundamentally look different for our children and grandchildren.   And since climate change exacerbates existing weather patterns, we see storms stronger than we’ve seen before.   And, we read about how some of those affected, like Puerto Rico, are still struggling to recover months later.

We see videos of white supremacists and Nazis marching with tiki-torches in the night.

We read about wealth inequality in our world, and how the top 1% of the rich, control 50% of the world’s wealth and how they influence politics and change the rules to favour them.

While most us are aware of media bias, the idea of fake news and wondering what’s true and what’s not and what’s political spin and whom can trust is all a little bit destabalizing, isn’t it?

We read about the global refugee crisis, from Syria, to where 1 in 4 civilians killed are children, to the plight of Rohingya in Myanmar.

And we’ve read, and shared, in #metoo, where thousands and thousands of women in all walks of life have shown great bravery and vulnerability and courage in telling their stories of how men have sexually assaulted them.  And we’ve believed them, and there’s been a bit of a long overdue public reckoning.

And all of this doesn’t even include a few unstable individuals who have access to nuclear weapons.

When we encounter all these stories, over and over again all day long, I get why jokingly some of us jokingly end up using apocalyptic language.

One of the ways that I understand the word “apocalypse” is simply this:  Uncovering. The great revealing.    No zombies. No end of the world prophecies.  Just a really truthful naming of what’s present in our world.  A revealing of what’s already there.

And when we stop and ponder, we know that everything I just named has been around for thousands of years.

For generations, we as human have been leaving the environment in worse shape for our children and grandchildren.

Natural disasters have happened before.

Empires and global super powers have neglected their responsibility to the poor and vulnerable and marginalized.

From Nazis to the KKK to the injustices done to indigenous people around the world, racism has flourished for centuries.

The rich and powerful have always tried to create propaganda that benefits them, and work to bend the rules in their favour.

Humans fleeing from war is as old a story as war itself.

And men have used and abused their wealth and status and power to exploit women for too long.

None of this is new.

What is new, however, is how all the darkness in our world is being revealed.  It is quick, it is widespread, and it is unfiltered.  And given the globalization of our world, we ponder our own roles in all of these things.

Advent is about waiting.  Waiting and longing for God to come and set the world right from all the darkness.

But we don’t wait passively.  We wait actively.   And part of actively waiting, part of waiting expectedl is for us to ponder our role in the world.

From how we respond with our money to the world’s crises, to whether or not we have believed the women’s stories about sexual assault, to our own role in perpetuating racism or climate change. Actively waiting for the Lord means that we have an opportunity to confront our own frailty, our own selfishness, own brokenness, our own fragile humanity.

And sometimes, I’m okay with a bit of a call for repentance. Of preparing the way for the Lord.  Because clearly we need it.  We’ve needed the call to make straight our paths for at least as long as John the Baptist has been saying it.

And I’m also grateful that John the Baptist quotes Isaiah 40.

There is the call for repentance.

And then there are the words offering comfort.  Comfort, comfort, O my people, says your God.

Your sins have been paid for, and you have received from the Lord’s hand double for all her sins.

And when we read about God’s paying double for sin, we often conjure up images of God’s wrath being poured out on humanity.  Punishment for our sin.

But as Christians, we don’t believe that God treats us as we deserve.   We believe in grace.

A quick aside:

Grace is the free and undeserved gift of God’s favour that is always there, always available, even in our times of failure.   And even sometimes offered in double doses.  It’s the gift of God’s love, God’s mercy, God’s forgiveness that reaches out to the sinner at the saint.

But Grace is not freedom from any consequences of sin.  Or freedom from public accountability. Goodness no.  One of the worst phrases in the English language is “Forgive and forget.”  Forgiveness is a journey that we all work at, yes, but forgetting means that we’re just setting ourselves up for a repetition of the negative action.  If our 16 year old kid trashes our car, we don’t just go buy them a new car.  Rather, we send them back to Driver’s Ed and tell them to have fun walking all winter.  Also, we don’t just shrug aside allegations of abuse and call it forgiveness… We work very hard at making sure destructive patterns aren’t allowed to continue.

Okay. Back on track.

As we wait, we say yes to repentance, and we say yes to God’s comfort, because we are in need of both.

The Lord is coming to set the world right.   And we get the joy of not only waiting for Emmanuel, God with us, but also actively participating in setting the world right.