Author: Steve

It’s time to go to bed and it’s all I can do to keep from clicking and watching the next episode. Once again I’m hooked on a TV series now available on Netflix. It’s a mystery show that slowly unravels from episode to episode. Like when I read a page-turner novel, I want to rush through to the end and find out how it all turns out.

Of course I could always just skip ahead and watch the last show in the series or read the last page of the book. But as tempting as that is, I know it won’t be nearly as fun or satisfying to learn the ending without wading through the intervening episodes or pages.

Christian life has its own temptation to jump to the end. It can take the form of focusing all our attention on the end of an individual life, that is on heaven, or concentrating on the end of this world’s history, that is the return of Christ.

Yet just as a good book can be spoiled by moving to the end too quickly, spiritual life is damaged when we direct our attention to the end of our story without paying sufficient attention to what comes before. That’s why Christian liturgy has grown up the customs of observing Advent before Christmas and Lent before Easter. The joy of Christ’s birth and of His resurrection are heightened by careful attention to the events which lead up to them.

Last week on Easter we jumped to the end of the story in Revelation 22 and read John’s great vision of the heavenly city and life nourished by the water of life and the tree of life. Yet we did not forget or pass over what led there. We saw how the church has historically connected the Cross to the Tree of Life, seeing the restoration of paradise as the outcome of Christ’s atoning work.

This week we jump back to the beginning of Revelation, the first chapter, verses 4-8. They appear in the lectionary for this week presumably because of their mention of the Resurrection in verse 5, which calls Jesus “the first born of the dead.”

Yet the text is also a good reminder to attend to the whole story of God’s work of redemption and restoration. It begins and ends (verses 4 and 8) by identifying Christ as “the one who is and who was and who is to come.” His story is complete, present, past and future. We won’t fully grasp or appreciate it if we truncate it to any single tense. Christians don’t live just in the past, nor just in the future, nor even just in the present. Our story, God’s story, is all three at once.

The Lord speaking at the beginning of verse 8 identifies Himself as “the Alpha and the Omega.” That phrase is expanded in Revelation 22:13 to “the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end.” Alpha and Omega are the first and last letters of the Greek alphabet. Jesus is saying that He is everything from A to Z. Every letter of every word is part of His story. We dare not skip over the middle of the story and rush to the end because He is Lord of it all.

Let’s resist all temptations to jump to the end of the story in which we live and have our being in Christ Jesus. He is bringing us there and has assured us of a good ending. Yet He is Lord of all our times and we don’t want to miss any of them.

I’m sharing this image of a wonderful sculpture by local artist Dan Chen. His work is my sermon without words, showing how the Cross of our Savior is transformed for us into the Tree of Life, lost in the garden in Genesis and then restored at the conclusion of Revelation upon the new earth.

We come at Easter this Sunday to the end of our 90-day journey through some of the greatest chapters of the Bible, concluding now with Revelation 22. I was struck with what a wonderful Easter text this is, to look at the hope and promise secured for us in the Resurrection of our Lord. I thought of Dan’s sculpture and knew I had to focus on the Tree.

The promise that Jesus is coming soon is repeated over and over in Revelation 22. As we celebrate Easter, it’s a fine reminder that new life in Christ has a glorious dimension yet to be completed. As the Communion litany goes, “Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again.”

May we all be blessed by the grace poured out on the tree of the Cross to be raised with our Lord to eat the fruit of the Tree of Life.

In the last century, one of the facets of the Soviet era was the West’s awareness of Soviet doctoring of photographs to fit better with “official” history. Several examples can be found, including these images of the removal of a water commissar who fell out of favor and of a cosmonaut who died in a training accident.

This desire to remake the truth according to one’s own wishes or ideology is nothing new. The good news about Jesus Christ constantly faced such reconstruction at the hands of those who were mistaken or malicious or both. As we see in our text from II Timothy 3 this Sunday, leaders of the church were constantly encouraged to uphold the truth and oppose any distortions.

We also see the great example of our Savior Himself standing firm on the truth in the Palm Sunday lesson from Luke 19. As the crowd of disciples hails Jesus as the King “who comes in the name of the Lord,” some Pharisees want to edit the picture, silence that acclamation. Jesus refuses in verse 40, with the simple declaration that the truth about Him cannot be edited out or silenced, “if these were silent, the stones would shout.”

There are, of course, many places in the world still where the truth of the Gospel is edited, silenced or distorted. We as Christians need to be ready to stand up against opposition whenever and wherever that happens, even as it occasionally does in the United States. II Timothy 3:16 points to our reliance on Scripture as the cornerstone of our allegiance and commitment to standing for the truth.

However, it would also be well to remember that opposition to our Lord’s truth happens within our own selves. There are parts of the Gospel message which challenge the way we live and treat others, and the temptation to downplay, hide or distort those truths is very real even for us who name ourselves as followers of Christ. The danger of following into the trap of those described in II Timothy 3:5 is always present, “having a form of godliness but denying its power.”

So let’s be diligent for the truth in every aspect of our lives, especially insofar as we are speaking and living out the faith we profess. Let’s not edit out the parts that make us uncomfortable or feel difficult. Because, as Jesus said to the Pharisees, the truth will be told, whether we tell it or not.

There was some great spaghetti and pie after worship Sunday as we joined in a fund-raising meal for our Mexico mission team. In just a few weeks we’ll all sit down together again for our annual Easter brunch. And this coming Sunday, our Inquirer’s (membership) class will have lunch together as we talk about the history of the Covenant church.

We frequently joke about how food is involved in so many of our church gatherings. Our regular after-worship fellowship times often have some quite wonderful snacks along with coffee, tea and water and people hang around to eat and chat for quite awhile.

Given the way Garrison Keillor’s jokes about Lutherans and their hot dishes seem universally recognized, I think we are not that different from many Christian communities. And we are not so different from the very first church community.

We come to Acts 2 as our “great” chapter of Scripture this Sunday and I’ve elected to focus on the last few verses, Acts 2:42-47, since the first part of the chapter is read and celebrated on Pentecost. In previous planning I had thought to zero in on the attention to the apostles’ teaching in verse 42, but this morning, as I read the text again, I noticed how prominently the act of eating figures here.

It’s generally agreed that while “the breaking of bread” in verse 42 suggests the sacrament of Communion, the distinction between the sacrament and what we would think of as ordinary table fellowship (like our spaghetti supper and Easter brunch) was blurry for the early church. You can see that from Paul’s concerns in I Corinthians 11.

We see clear reference to that same phenomenon of joining around the table in verse 46 along with an indication of the gladness and generosity that surrounded they community. Which indicates that the sharing of goods in verses 44 and 45 almost certainly included sharing food with those who were in need.

This all to me suggests an understanding that every meal shared together in the church has a holiness and sacramental aspect. Luke shows Jesus often at table. Last week’s text, Luke 15, showed the parable of redemption concluding with a banquet, as does the Bible itself.

So our food at church is not just an unnecessary add-on to more spiritual matters. Eating together and sharing food, especially with those who are in need, is at the heart of the Gospel story and the mission of the church.

Christians often long for their fellowships to be more like Acts 2. Maybe the first step is to eat together a bit more.

O.K., I’m cheating. In our “Around the Word in Ninety Days” emphasis during the first 90 days of the year, we are following Terry Glaspey’s plan for reading some of the greatest chapters of Scripture, one each day. I covenanted to preach on whichever chapter fell on each of the Sundays. But this Sunday, March 3, I’m cheating.

In the ninety-day plan, the chapter for Sunday was Luke 24. But how could I possibly preach the resurrection of Jesus four weeks early, before Easter? No way. So I’m backing up one day to pick up the great chapter that is Luke 15. For those who care about such things, Luke 15:11-32 is actually the Lectionary Gospel reading for the next Sunday, March 10.

But leave all that aside, and we stand before a towering peak in the teaching of Jesus. What He taught here continues to both comfort and infuriate those who genuinely pay attention. The little parables of the lost coin and the lost sheep are lovely and make sweet Sunday School lessons. Yet the last portion of the chapter, which we typically call the “Parable of the Prodigal Son,” contains all the human pathos and drama of an episode of “Downtown Abbey.” As an instrument to teach us about God, this parable has echoed down through the ages with the message of an incredible love and grace.

Many people rightly complain about the traditional name of the parable. Early church father Irenaeus called it the “Parable of the Two Sons.” Others have suggested focusing on the father and calling it something like the “Parable of the Loving Father.” What these suggested changes in title get at is that there is more here than just the repentance and home-coming of a prodigal. Jesus meant to talk about the forgiveness of God and its implications for human relationships, particularly among believers.

One popular method for interpreting parables that actually works well for Luke 15 is to try and place oneself in the story. This parable cries out the question, “Am I the younger or the older son?” I think it might be well to consider that one could be either, depending on circumstances and the moment in life. Even for believers there are seasons when we find ourselves very much in need of “coming to ourselves” and returning home to our loving Father. And whenever we are comfortable in our relationship with God, we are always in danger of refusing to join the celebration for the return of those who have behaved badly.

For parents especially there may even be some merit in contemplating whether the parable does not ask us to be like the father in the story, patiently waiting for our children even when it seems hopeless. And there may be other circumstances in which we ought to be extending a similar patient love toward a friend or family member.

This is a glorious text. I can’t possibly do it justice. May the Lord give me a few words, and may those who listen hear His own grace and love coming through.

My wife listens to public radio and generally enjoys much of the programming, whether it’s thoughtful commentary on public life, discussions of the arts, news reporting from perspectives other than our own, Garrison Keillor or “Car Talk.” However, a couple weeks or more out of the year, listening to public radio becomes an ordeal. Her favorite shows are frequently interrupted by urgent pleas for donations to support the radio station and public radio in general. Sometimes during those times Beth simply collects a few CDs and plays music from those instead of trying to listen to the radio.

I imagine many people’s impression of Christian church life is that it is something like those fund raising weeks on public radio or television. Supposedly we are constantly urging people to give, punctuating all that we do, whether it’s worship or service, with those pleas.

I doubt that the impression that churches are constantly begging for money is true in 99% of our congregations, but even if it’s not the real scenario, we must acknowledge that giving is at the heart of our faith. That’s why Matthew 6, the central chapter of the Sermon on the Mount, may be understood as Jesus’ extended commentary on giving and what should be our attitude toward it.

The first part of Matthew 6 is what Jesus has to say about the the three traditional pillars of Jewish piety: almsgiving, prayer, and fasting. The same acts constitute three out of the five pillars of Islam. What strikes me is that Jesus begins with alms, giving to the poor. Typically, religious acts directed toward God are placed ahead of those directed toward others. Elsewhere Jesus named first love toward God and then love toward one’s neighbor as the greatest commandments. In the Muslim list, recitation of Islam’s basic faith commitment (there is only one God, Allah, and Mohammed is his prophet) and prayer both come before the giving of alms.

Yet here Jesus places giving first and I believe the whole chapter can be seen as support for and commentary on this basic Christian practice. The closing verses of Matthew 6, about not being anxious for the necessities of life, are beautiful and comforting, but they come into sharper focus when one considers them from the previous assumption that Christians will regularly be giving away at least some part of what they have.

Likewise the command in verses 19-21 to store up treasures in heaven and the command to not make a god or master out of money in verse 24 fit very well with an overall perspective aimed at generous giving being a large part of Christian life.

And all three spiritual practices are discussed here in Matthew 6 in a way that encourages doing them in pursuit of a reward that comes from God rather than for a tangible reward that appears in this world from others.

I’ve got to think it all through a bit more, but I’m liking the single theme of giving as a way to unpack this whole chapter. Even in the Lord’s prayer, we find ourselves expected to engage in the giving of forgiveness. Verses 22 and 23 are harder to squeeze into this framework, so I’ve got to ponder them some more.

What do you think?

“It’s always something,” Gilda Radner as Roseanne Roseannadanna would say on “Saturday Night Live.” She was right, and the people of Israel in the prophet Joel’s time would have agreed. For them, it was always something, whether it was invading locusts or an invading human army.

As we work our way through some of the greatest chapters of Scripture, we land on Joel chapter 2 this coming Sunday. It definitely deserves its place on the roll. We hear various portions of this chapter on Ash Wednesday (today!), on Pentecost, and on Thanksgiving. In the midst of the “always something” struggles of God’s people, Joel sounds a call for repentance, offering in return the hope grace and blessing.

That “always something” note begins in Joel 1:4, with the brutal words that “What the cutting locust has left, the swarming locust has eaten. What the swarming locust left, the hopping locust has eaten, and what the hopping locust left, the destroying locust has eaten.” Successive swarms of locusts have devastated the crops and left fields bare and people starving.

In the midst of that agricultural disaster, Joel asks the people to do what might be the last thing on their minds, to fast (chapter 1 verse 14, chapter 2 verse 12). They are going hungry already. There is not enough grain or wine to bring their usual offerings to God. And the prophet suggests a time of refraining from the little food they have.

Fasting is a way to focus the mind and the heart on God, to remove the distraction of meal preparation and eating for a time, so that one can address the condition of one’s soul as well as one’s body. The call for fasting and a demonstrated repentance is why we read this text on Ash Wednesday.

As anyone knows, it’s easy to say you are sorry. It’s more difficult to offer a genuine demonstration of one’s regret and repentance. Fasting and other signs like the sackcloth called for in chapter 1 and the visible weeping named alongside fastin in 2:12 are ways to show the Lord that what verse 2:13 asks for is actually happening, that one’s heart is being torn with sorrow for sin. “Rend your hearts and not your garments.”

Like so much of spiritual life, the outcome of fasting is blessing. A sincere turn to the Lord means that He will turn to us in blessing. Most of the ancient Israelites were probably focused on the promises of 2:23-26, plenty to eat and repayment for the lean years of the locust-caused famine.

Yet verse 27 is the greater promise, that “You shall know that I am in the midst of Israel, and that I, the Lord am your God…” That’s what was fulfilled for us in Jesus Christ. God came into our midst and then remained in our midst in the person of the Holy Spirit, verse 28 goes on to promise. Peter quoted this verse and what follows on the day of Pentecost, our great hope that our God will be with us.

May His Spirit be with each reader of this today on Ash Wednesday, and always.

“Oh Lord, deliver me from this text!” was my seminary professor’s thought. Fred Holmgren stood in the North Park chapel and told how he was teaching a course on the Psalms. So he had committed himself, for his day to preach in chapel, to speak on whatever psalm was assigned in the daily lectionary for that day. It was Psalm 23, our text for this Sunday.

Of course Psalm 23 has to be included in our list of the 90 greatest chapters of the Bible which we are reading in the first 90 days of 2013. Yet I feel a little like Fred did so many years ago. Why did it have to fall on this Sunday, so that I have to use it as my preaching text?

Don’t get me wrong. I love this psalm. It’s one of a few longer Scripture passages that I have committed to memory and repeat to myself almost every day, often several times a day, particularly in those night times when I find myself worried and awake.

Yet it’s very familiarity and beauty make it a daunting text for the preacher. What can one say that hasn’t been said about it? Especially after having read Phillip Keller’s sweet little book, A Shepherd Looks at Psalm 23? I’ve got no agrarian insights to offer, no original take on words that have echoed in all their power down through the ages. I’m tempted to just read the text aloud and let it stand on its own.

But of course I will find something to say. I want to share how I’ve discovered elderly people with dementia who remember hardly anything else, but will join in repeating “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…” as soon as they hear it begun. I want to share how this psalm constantly reassures me of God’s care and guidance no matter what is happening around me. And I want to help us claim the New Testament truth that Jesus Christ is the Lord who is our Shepherd, and that we will dwell in His house with Him forever.

So I’m confident that my Lord will walk with me even through the valley of the shadow of preaching on a text where there seems to be nothing to say that has not already been said many times. But that’s just fine. Originality is probably one of the seeds of heresy.

Think Sylvester Stallone in “Rocky” or “Rambo.” That’s how I picture Samson, big, strong as an ox, but not too bright. As we jump to Judges 16 this coming Sunday, following our 90-day Bible reading plan, we find the story of this man with incredible physical power, but incredibly poor judgment.

The old saw, “Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely,” is not true. Otherwise it would be impossible for God to be good. But having power does get human beings into all kinds of trouble. When we can solve problems by brute force, it’s often difficult to see that there are other solutions. That’s true whether we’re talking personal, national, or international problems.

Samson’s story teaches us that, like all gifts, power has its source in God and that if it is abused or if God is ignored, then the gift can do damage or be taken away. Samson’s downfall is an ancient story of being led astray by his lust and not taking the gift and responsibility of his power seriously enough.

Yet this big, stupid powerhouse is counted among the judges who were saviors of Israel. In the end, Samson sacrifices himself to deliver his people from the tyranny of their enemies. For that reason, some of the church fathers regarded Samson as a type of Christ, foreshadowing how Jesus would give Himself up for the salvation of us all, delivering us from our enemies, sin, death and the devil.

Yet Jesus is a much, much better example for us regarding the use of power. It is always for the sake of others, always done with self-sacrifice. In the Gospel lesson for this Sunday, John 2:1-11, Jesus exerts His power for the first time, changing water into wine at the wedding in Cana. He helps out the friends of His mother and, as the interchange with her shows, sacrifices His own sense of proper timing for such a display.

Would that all of us who wield even a little power in whatever arena would learn both from Samson’s negative example and from Jesus’ positive model.

“Are we there yet?” “I’m thirsty!” “I have to go!” Most parents will recognize these as the cries heard from young children on a car trip of any length. Even the inarticulate cries of an infant confined to a car seat can make an automobile journey seem like an unending ride of misery.

They were adults, but the children of Israel got to their leader Moses with their cries and complaints even more than kids in the backseat. Of course, their journey was much longer and the number of gripers in the hundreds of thousands.

As we move through the 90 greatest chapters of Scripture in the first 90 days of 2013, we take a big leap from Genesis 8 last Sunday, to Numbers 20 this coming Sunday. In it we find one of the several scenes where the people are complaining to Moses and Aaron, this time about the lack of water, along with the lack of fruits and grains that grow when there is water for them. “I’m thirsty!”

Like many parents have been pushed too hard, Moses and Aaron succumbed to the pressure of the complaints and responded with an angry outburst, despite God’s promise to provide water. So instead of speaking to a rock as God directs in verse 8, Moses struck the rock with his staff in verse 11.

It’s not just the physical anger, though, which God subsequently finds objectionable in both Moses and Aaron. Moses exclaims in frustration in verse 10, “Listen, you rebels, shall we bring water for you out of this rock?” The implication of those words was that Moses and his brother were the ones who would bring the water forth. As God tells them in verse 12, they did not show God’s holiness to Israel, they did not honor Him as the source of the water and all their needs.

We see further consequences for this lack of honoring God in the rest of the chapter, as all the people suffer a rebuke from the king and people of Edom and then as Aaron dies before being able to enter into Canaan.

For us we see a good warning against rash words, especially words that take credit to ourselves for what is God’s work. The counterpoint is in our Gospel lesson from Luke 3, wherein we see Jesus humbly submitting Himself to water of baptism and thereby honoring His Father. So we have this Sunday a negative example in Moses and a positive example in Christ Himself.

A dove with an olive leaf is a familiar symbol of peace. It comes from the chapter which is our sermon text this week, Genesis 8. It was a favorite in early Christian art (as was the whole wider theme of Noah and the ark), and of course it got adapted into our own national symbolism by having the American eagle on our great seal clasping an olive branch in the talons of one foot while grasping a cluster of arrows with the other foot.

As a new year begins we contemplate how life began again on earth after the flood. After God’s punishment of evil humanity is spent and the flood waters recede, Noah and his family emerge to begin again. At the end of the chapter, God promises not to ever bring such wholesale destruction to the world again.

It’s interesting that in verse 21, God makes that promise to refrain from destroying all flesh again, despite the fact that, “the inclination of the human heart is evil from youth.” God’s gracious promise is extended despite the inevitability of human evil.

God’s grace is our only hope for a fresh start in a new year or at any time. As that line from the flood narrative shows, our inclination to evil is inescapable. It’s only by God’s mercy and grace that we may continue on, trying again to do good instead of evil.

May our new beginning this year be to make fresh and better use of the gift of grace given to us in Jesus Christ.

You may notice that Genesis 8 is not the assigned Old Testament lesson for January 6. We’re jumping out of the lectionary readings for the sermon texts for the first three months of the year in order to follow a 90-day reading plan of the greatest chapters of the Bible. We call it “Around the Word in 90-Days” and I invite you to follow the link to learn a little more and see the reading plan.

So I’m preaching on “great chapter” assigned for each week in our “Around the Word” plan. That lands us on Genesis 8 for this Sunday and then on Numbers 20 on January 13 and so on. Which means part of the new year will be some new experiences in the text chosen for each week. I’m looking forward to it.

Happy new year and God’s great blessings to you all!

Thick juicy lamb chops and warm wool socks. Those things are, in my mind, the purpose of sheep. Sheep are dumber than dirt. They are helpless prey to predators smaller than themselves. Their image makes for cuddly stuffed toys like my oldest daughter used to have, but in other ways they are just not that attractive.

Yet one of the primary and most comforting images of Scripture is that in relationship to God we are sheep, and He is our Shepherd. That image rises to its height in the promise of One who would Shepherd God’s people Israel and the fulfillment of that promise in the person of Jesus Christ. Our text for this week is Micah 5:2-5a, in which we hear the promise of a Shepherd to be born in Bethlehem.

The fact is that already in biblical times “shepherd” had a double meaning. Yes, it referred primarily to one who herded and cared for sheep, but it also was regularly used to refer to kings who led armies. So, perhaps influenced by mid-eastern usage, we find Homer later on referring to heroes like Agamemnon and Hector as “shepherds of the people.”

So the promise of a shepherd is more than the promise of someone who will keep us safe and comfortable, warm and well-fed. It is the prediction of a leader who will order us together in combat against our enemies. That seems to be the true spirit of Micah’s prophecy as he speaks it in the context of verse 1 and the remainder of verse 5, picturing Israel up against its enemies.

Facing the elusive and shapeless enemies of poverty and fear, pointless hate and senseless violence, we may find ourselves most like sheep, unsure where to turn and wandering aimlessly. It is in Jesus Christ that we are promised leadership in directions that actually address such enemies and bring help and healing. It’s in Christ that we may unite and move forward to bring help and healing where people are feeling chaos and despair.

As we remember how the shepherds came to see the newborn Great Shepherd, may we be ready to accept Him as the Shepherd Micah predicted, a kingly leader, calling us to order and battle against the forces of evil in our world.

This past Sunday evening our congregation had the joy of watching our children bring off a classic little Christmas pageant, complete with shepherds in little robes, lambs wearing fleecy ears, and angels with cardboard wings spray-painted gold. A full house smiled and oohed and awed with delight as the kids enjoyed their roles and sang old familiar carols.

Several people with grown children or with no kids of their own came out to share the moment with the kids. Something about the presence of children and their fresh joy in the season adds to our delight. And of course parents treasure all the memories of their sons and daughters enjoying Christmas when they are little.

Considering how children bring us delight and joy gives us a path toward understanding a theme in our prophetic text for this week from Zephaniah 3:14-20. In verse 17, Israel is told that God will “rejoice over [take delight in] you.” The whole text is a promise of all the blessings God will pour out in His delight with His people.

The product of God’s delight in us is our own delight. This prophecy begins with a call to rejoice and that’s echoed in the epistle reading from Philippians 4:4-7.

It’s not always easy to be aware of God’s delight in us. We’re often ready to believe that He is aggravated and angry, rather than joyful and delighted with His people. Yet Scripture teaches that God takes great delight in human beings, beginning with His pronouncement that creation crowned with humanity was “very good.”

In Christmas we have a special opportunity to experience God’s delight in us, as we remember how He poured out so much wonder and blessing in the birth of His own Son. It’s a time for each person to be reassured of his or her own worth and God’s desire to take delight in each of us. May that message be a source of encouragement and joy to everyone ready to receive it.

My mother grew up in the shadow of what was at one time the largest copper mine in the world. The mine was in Jerome, Arizona and Mom spent her youth in Cottonwood, a town that supported the mining community with agriculture, shops, etc. In between was Clarkdale, the town that, as I understand it, grew up around the smelting operation.

It requires a great deal of turquoise green copper ore in order to extract any significant amount of pure copper. The ore is crushed, treated with chemical and at some point “smelted,” heated and melted down at temperatures high enough to separate a much more concentrated copper “matte” from the “slag,” which is drawn off and disgarded. You can still see a huge slag heap near Clarkdale.

As our text for this week, Malachi 3:1-4 speaks of the coming Messiah as a “refiner’s fire,” I picture those heaps of waste mineral from the smelter operation near my mother’s home. It makes me wonder if our Lord has to melt off a similarly large proportion of “slag” from our lives in order to produce anything really good or useful.

Yet I’m also reassured that the Lord sees us as valuable enough to refine, that even the most corrupt of us, like the Levites of Malachi’s time, are worth the time and effort to redeem and purify what is good in us.

And even if we feel like slag heaps sometimes, the grace of Christ is working to refine us. I just read that a present day company is recycling that heap of slag by Clarkdale to extract gold and other precious minerals. That’s what our Lord would like to do with us.

For Advent I’m beginning a series of sermons on the Old Testament lessons, thinking about the promises God made to His people through the prophets and then fulfilled in the coming of Jesus Christ.

The reading from the prophets for the first Sunday in Advent is Jeremiah 33:14-16. God promises a “righteous branch” from the “tree” of the house of David and promises that He will “execute justice and righteousness in the land.” He goes on to promise that “Judah will be saved and Jerusalem will live in safety.”

The prophet’s focus on a corporate salvation runs a little counter to our usual evangelical focus on personal and individual salvation. We need to adjust our thinking a little to accept the Bible’s perspective that God’s salvation in Jesus Christ is meant to produce a righteous community who live together in peace and justice.

Jeremiah’s talk about the Branch bounces nicely off the words of Jesus in our Gospel lesson, Luke 22:25-36, particulary verses 29 and 30 which talks about looking to the trees and the sign of leaves sprouting as a parable for discerning the time of Jesus’ second coming.

I’ll be preaching a sermon that rifs on the Branch and and the new growth of trees with a parable about an apple tree. It tells of how God’s people had a rocky relationship with Him, how Christ came and was rejected, crucified and rose again, and how we wait in hope now for His return.

May you all be blessed this Advent to rejoice in God’s promises to you and to live hopeful lives in righteousness and peace.