Category: Sermons

Sermon Series, Readings from the Minor Prophets — Haggai 1:16b–2:9

The Israelites had been trapped in a foreign land for seventy years. Generations came and went. Their elders told stories of the beautiful land, flowing with milk and honey, they came from. Now their captors had been defeated by a new army from the southeast, and the emperor had decreed that the captives could go home. Their joy was great.

Until they got there. Jerusalem, the great city of David and the home of their God, was a ruin. What wasn’t destroyed decades ago had collapsed over the years. So had the fields. With only the poorest people left behind to tend to them, crops had rotted and decayed. There was no milk and honey here.

Sermon Series, Readings from the Minor Prophets — Hosea 2:2–7, 16–20; 11:1–9; Revelation 19:1–9a

I have this recurring dream. It takes place now, in 2021. But I’m back in college, in Alma, Michigan, where I had my first try at school. I took a long time to grow up and become the brilliant, successful, charming and entirely too humble person you know and love today. I failed out of Alma College. I spent a semester in the workforce, and then decided to go back and finish my music degree. Then I failed out a second time.

Sermon Series, Readings from the Minor Prophets: Joel 1:11–14, 1:19–2:2, 2:18–24

There’s one thing about Lutherans everywhere: We’re love food. So when we had a week-long summer program for teenagers in Massachusetts, food was an easy topic.

One day, we went to a produce stand for lunch. The fruits and vegetables for sale were grown locally. Everything looked beautiful, perfect. Juicy cherries and shining apples and strange lettuces and watermelon quarters that you wanted to eat right in the store. We left with armfuls of them, and after stopping at the deli next door, lunch was served.

Sermon Series, Readings from the Prophets — Lectionary 18 (B) — 2 Kings 4:42–44

In the weeks ahead, we’re going to hear from the lesser-known prophets of the Bible. As they speak to their time, and hope for Israel’s future, we’ll journey with them and look for hope for our future as well. If you would like to know more about these prophets, you’re welcome to join our weekly Bible study at 4:00 on Wednesdays. We have a good group of people gathering on the computer, and all are welcome to participate—or just to sit in and listen!

Today, we have the prophet Elisha. His name is easy to confuse with his teacher, Elijah. Elijah was the greatest prophet, a miracle worker who battled against the priests of the foreign god Ba’al, and one of the few people who never died, but was taken into heaven in a chariot with horses of flame. He passes his mantle, the sign of prophetic authority, to Elisha at the end of his earthly life.

Lectionary 16 (B) — Jeremiah 23:1–6

One way to work with a Bible story is to ask yourself which character fits you best. In today’s Old Testament readings, we are the sheep, obviously. Right?

Jeremiah’s prophecy begins with woe. The shepherds who shepherd my people make me miserable, God says. Jeremiah writes during a national disaster. Some of the prophets promise that destruction is coming, and others afterward to bring hope, but Jeremiah is right in the middle of it. The armies of Babylon have torn down the gate, the city is burning, and people are being torn away from their lives. Whole communities fled to foreign lands, hoping to escape the terror that’s now at the door.

Lectionary 15 (B) — Mark 6:14–29

In today’s Gospel reading, we have the story of a person who dedicated his life to proclaiming God’s word. It got him into a lot of trouble. The things he had to say didn’t please the powers of his time, and he ended up arrested, in prison, waiting for judgment. The powerful, political leader kept him in custody for a while, because there was no real, legitimate reason to condemn him. But there never was a real trial. The political pressure became too great, and so his disciples laid him in a tomb, after he was condemned to a grisly, painful, senseless death.

Lectionary 13 (B) — Lamentations 3:22–33, Mark 5:21–43

It’s exciting to finally start your career, move into your own home, start your “adult” life. A month before I began my new church in New England, a real estate agent gave me a whirlwind tour of nearby apartments. I found the perfect one, and my application went through. I came back to Berks County, packed my things, and off I went. Everything was perfect, prepared, organized. I was a real adult.

Lectionary 12 (B) — Job 38:1–11

My father died in 1991, when I was ten. (That sentence is designed to make most of you feel old.) Thirty years. Sometimes I try to drag up memories, and it’s a struggle. There are moments that rise to the top, though. And they all seem to have a theme.

My parents had a party for my fifth birthday, and rented a video camera, one of the big, early consumer models that took a whole VHS tape. I still have the video. It features a good hour of footage of the inside of the lens cap. It also features my dad, annoyed with me the moment I got home from school. The camera was supposed to be a fun surprise for me; I demanded it be shut off. I was kind of a brat back then.

Lectionary 11 (B) — Ezekiel 17:22-24, Mark 4:26-34

Today’s Old Testament reading helps us understand the purpose of prophecy. Many think the prophets are about foretelling the future. But today’s prophecy proves otherwise, because Ezekiel’s prophecy doesn’t come true.

Before 600 BC, the Israelites were mostly ignorant of the outside world. Sure, a few trade routes went through their land, and they knew other places existed. But those trade routes always went through the land, and never to the land.

The Israelites were subsistence farmers, usually having enough to eat, but never more. They had to rely on God, because there was nowhere else to turn. When things were too lean, they invented and borrowed other gods to rely on as well.

Lectionary 10 (B) — Genesis 3:8–15, Mark 3:20–35

Joan is one of those people who takes a LOT of patience to be around. If you meet her today, you might think it’s because of the memory loss and dementia that’s set in and become such a big part of her existence now. But the truth is, she’s always been a bit exhausting. It really has more to do with the relationships in her life.

Joan grew up on a farm in Minnesota with her parents, a twin sister, and two brothers. She had two pet pigs, whose names were Wiggy and Waggy. When she was little, she would ride around the farm on them, and when she got a little older, they became her best playmates. I suspect they met their end the way that all farm animals do, but in seven years of knowing her, she never told me. She never told me the names of her family members, either.