Crucis: Judgment

Crucis: Judgment

The Cross is the Judgment of God

John 12:20-33

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. March 17th, 2024

I’ve always been poor at math. My family’s attempts to get me some remedial math instruction didn’t pan out. It’s far easier to find help with reading than there is finding help with math. So I graduated high school having gotten no farther than Algebra II and was very happy to be done with it all. When I got to undergrad I took the easiest math course I could to fulfill my requirement: Math for Teachers. A math class intended for elementary school teachers. All was good until my senior year when I discovered my minor required I take a math class that year. And not just any math class. This was a math class in the university’s great books program. So instead of reading a textbook we were reading Euclid’s Elements or Descartes La Géométrie or Newton’s Principia Mathematica. We covered Euclid through to non-euclidian geometry. Some of you may note that Lovecraft’s horrifying lost city of R’lyeh where dead Cthulhu lay dreaming was built on non-Euclidean geometry. I experienced much the same horror. I, who had never heard of a derivative before had to calculate Newton’s fluxions. I’m pretty sure the nightmares I have around final exams to this day center around this class. I was out of my element, trying to wrap my mind around things I was not prepared to wrap my mind around, trying to grasp things that were very difficult to grasp. I barely survived.

But I digress.

I imagine following Jesus around was a lot like being in a math class that is way over your head. At least if John’s testimony here is anything to go by. The whole gospel is a series of misunderstandings and incomprehension. Jesus seems to speak in riddles and double entendres. He tells Nicodemus you must be born again, or born from above, and he wonders why he needs to crawl back into his mother’s womb. He tells the woman at the well that if she asked he could provide running, or living, water and she wants to know where this stream is because the well is the only source of water for miles around. He multiplies the loaves and fishes and the crowds want to make him King, he tries to get them to see that he is the bread of life and they are to feed on him. But that only scares them away. When his disciples tell him this is a very hard teaching he replies, “Do you take offense at this? Then what if you were to see the Son of Man ascending where he was before?” And even in this line he is making an oblique reference to his death, his crucifixion, where he ascends to the sky on the cross.

Here, too, Jesus is puzzling and difficult to follow. There are greeks in Jerusalem who have come to celebrate the festival and they wish to see Jesus. Philip doesn’t know what to do, since they hadn’t been reaching out to greeks before, so he asks Andrew, Andrew asks Jesus. And Jesus replies with what seems like a complete non sequitur. “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified.” He says. Then he gives them a parable. Unless a grain goes into the earth and dies it remains just a single grain. But if it dies it will bear much fruit. Those who love their life will lose it, and those who hate their life will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves Jesus must honor him, and wherever he is there his servant may be.

He then prays openly to the Father, “Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say — ‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name.” Then, in an astounding passage a voice comes from heaven, presumably the Father’s voice, “I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.” The crowds are astonished, but divided. They don’t know where the voice came from, or if it even was a voice. Some think it is thunder. Others think it is an angel. But as they are disputing what has just taken place Jesus, unhelpfully, lets them know this voice came for their sake. Though they do not comprehend.

Then Jesus says, “Now is the judgment of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.” This, John helpfully editorializes, is to indicate how he was to die. That is, being lifted up on the cross.

The presence of the greeks seems to indicate to Jesus that the time has come to go to the cross. Which is why he gives this teaching on the nature of his death, and need to follow him in death. Perhaps the greeks presence has something to do with the cross drawing all to himself. God is rather indiscriminate in the people he lets into his Kingdom. But even so, this doesn’t get to the core of what is difficult about this passage. Why is the cross glory? How is the cross judgment?

The words of Jesus can be like the words of the Father in this passage. Ambiguous. Difficult to discern. Hard to comprehend. We shouldn’t expect much less. These are divine matters, after all. Much like I had difficulty doing non-euclidean geometry, should I have any less difficulty comprehending the things of God? Should we not, at times, be perplexed? Must we always grasp in totality what Jesus has to say, what God has to say? Here we witness a mystery. And a mystery is always outside our grasp. But the mystery can be expressed, and contemplated, and lived.

Here is a mystery, that the great judgment seat of Christ is not on a white throne but is instead on a cross. This is the judgment of the world where the ruler of this world is cast out. It is here that Jesus prays for the forgiveness of those who do not know what they are doing and welcomes the thief into paradise. It is here that he completes the work of redemption and wins for us salvation. Not through might but through weakness. It is here where his enemies seek to nail him in place and do away with him that they only extend his arms wide to embrace all. It is here where they seek to kill him that he kills death. It is here that we may feel the guilt of the sin that necessitated his death.

But in the cross a decision must be made. Do we see love or do we see an execution? Do we see the source of life or do we see yet another life lost? Do we see salvation or do we resign ourselves to the way the world is? Like the thunderous reply from heaven Jesus can only be ambiguous here. We see his crucifixion, but do we see what it really is? Do we see through it? That is the judgment. That our King rules from a cross. Can you see it?

Crucis: No Condemnation

Crucis: No Condemnation

God is All Mercy

John 3:14-21

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. March 10th, 2024

There is an account in John chapter 8 that is likely bracketed in your Bibles. In it Jesus is in the Temple teaching when the scribes and pharisees bring a woman to him they caught in the act of adultery. “Now in the law,” they say, “Moses commanded us to stone such. What do you say about her?” They said this in order to test him, as so many of their questions were meant to do. At first, Jesus says nothing. He simply doodles in the ground. But when they continue to ask him he looks up and says, simply, “Let him who is without sin cast the first stone at her.” And he looks back down, goes back to doodling.

Imagine how excruciating that must have been for the woman! She is caught in the very act of adultery, at least if we are to believe the scribes and pharisees who captured her, and instead of going through the proper proceedings has been dragged into the temple to be used as a “gotcha” in some barely understandable religious feud. As she sits before her judge, this itinerant rabbi who seems more interested in drawing than judging, he ignores her. Until finally, after incessant questioning, he seemingly gives permission to stone her! “Let he who is without sin,” he says, “cast the first stone.” She is surrounded by scribes and pharisees, surely at least one of them is righteous enough to execute her.

But instead there is a very long pause as the crowd begins to disperse. Before long she is alone, in the Temple, with Jesus. He looks up to her and asks, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you.”

“No one, Lord.” She says, with an astonished heart and simple faith.

“Neither do I condemn you,” Jesus says, “Go and sin no more.”

Jesus is the sinless one. Jesus is the judge. He is the one who holds in his hands the power of death and life. And the pharisees, whether they knew it or not, were right to bring this woman before this judge. But he is not interested in condemnation. The sinless one does not lift up a stone. “Neither do I condemn you.” He says, “Go and sin no more.”

This morning Jesus talks about his own cross. He compares his crucifixion to the snake that Moses raised up in the wilderness. When the people complained venomous serpents were sent to bite them. When the people returned to the Lord Moses was instructed to raise a bronze serpent, and when the people looked upon that serpent they were healed. So too, we are to understand, Jesus is lifted up that if we look at him we may be healed. We may be bit by sin, but if we look up to the image of sin in the sinless Christ we may know healing.

He goes on to say, “Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.” The cross is not the image of condemnation. It is the image of salvation. Jesus did not come to condemn. Jesus came to save. This is what the woman caught in adultery comes to understand. Jesus has no interest in condemnation. Only her deliverance from her sin. The scribes and pharisees were eager to condemn. But lacked the authority. When they walked away they condemned themselves, acknowledging their own sin.

The Cross should stand as a reminder of God’s love for us. God does not wish to condemn. God desires that all should be saved. That is why God sent his son Jesus. That the world would be saved through him. The cross stands as a sign of that love, the extent of that love, that God so loved the world that he would give his son. His only son. That whoever might believe in his name would receive everlasting life. Such is the Father’s love, and in the Son there is no condemnation.

If we want to know what God is like, there is God without reserve on the Cross giving himself up for you. There is no other God behind that God who looks upon us sternly in judgment, finding the technicalities by which to condemn us. There is only the God who would go so far as to die for his creation. Who bends over backwards to bring us to himself. Who would make the rain fall on the just and the unjust alike such is his love for all he has made.

The Cross tells us how bad sin is, yes, but only after telling us first of his love. Look at how much he loves us, the extent he had to go, look at the sin that is now being washed away. How bad it was. And yet he would heal us regardless. By his stripes we are healed. It is his love that beckons us to repent, not our fear. It is because of what he has done that we follow him. It is because Christ died that we have hope. It is because he lives that we know we shall live.

Crucis: Axis Mundi

Crucis: Axis Mundi

God is Revealed in Christ Crucified

John 2:13-22

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. March 3rd, 2024

Many of us have places where we may feel close to God. I went to a little liberal arts school called Carthage College, right on the shore of Lake Michigan. My dorms, most of the time, happened to be right on the lakeshore. When I woke up the sun rose over the lake, shone through my window, and woke me up. At night I saw the moon rise over the lake, its reflection on the waters a stairway to the heavens. While there I had a particularly distressing class that lead to questions about my faith. Those are matters I don’t need to delve into too deeply here. But one night, concerned, I walked out onto the shore to think and pray. Walking among the rocks and ice in the cold April air I looked up and saw a full moon. There was no particular religious significance to this moon. But I was startled by its size and brightness. I hadn’t expected it to be there. And I found myself overwhelmed by the grandeur and beauty of God. “The heavens are telling the glory of God; and the firmament proclaims his handiwork. Day to day pours forth speech, and night to night declares knowledge.” And in that moment I knew I could put the intellectual matters aside and rest in God’s beauty and love for awhile.

That was a space that opened up to me for a moment. Not all walks along the shore brought about that sense of God’s presence. But I’m sure many of us have places we go to where we may expect God to show up, to be particularly close to us. It may be a walk in the woods, it may be this very sanctuary, it may be a quiet time we set aside in prayer in our homes. But we have known that place where God opens himself up to us and we might open ourselves up to God.

In ancient Israel the Temple in Jerusalem was believed to be that place. The Temple was the house of God where he dependably resided, where he may dependably be approached. In its most inner room, the Holy of Holies, it was believed God rested his feet. Heaven touched earth. The smell of sacrifices pleased the living God. The rising cloud of incense signified his glory. As long as the Temple was there, as long as the sacrifices were maintained, as long as the prayers were said and the celebrations performed God remained and all was right with the world.

It is this Temple that Jesus cleanses like a storm. We are told that the Passover was near and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. There he found people selling cattle, sheep, and doves and money changers seated at their tables. This may seem strange to us where we don’t usually have people set up at our Churches selling wares. But Jews would have taken journeys on foot lasting days or weeks or more to make sacrifice. It’s highly inconvenient to make that trip with cattle or sheep. So people would sell animals for the sacrifices in the outer portions of the Temple.

It might also seem strange that there would be money changers but Romans coins had the Emperor’s face etched on them, and such an image would have been considered idolatry. So people set up shop to convert the roman coins into temple coins that could be used to purchase the animals for sacrifice. All of this might seem sensible to Temple leaders, but was also ripe for abuse. And infuriated Jesus.

“Take these things out of here!” He shouts, “Stop making my Father’s house a marketplace!” The Temple is for worship, not for selling wares. It’s a place to encounter God, not make a living. He makes a whip of cords and drives them and their animals out of the Temple. And as the disciples watch the spectacle they remember Psalm 69 “Zeal for your house will consume me.”

The furious bystanders ask him for a sign to justify such a prophetic action. Jesus responds with a riddle that points to his future, "Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” The Temple, we are helpfully told, being his body.

With this riddling saying he points us to something important. The Temple is destroyed, after all. But the body of Jesus lives on. It is the crucified body of Jesus that becomes a Temple for us. As the Jews believed God resided in the Temple, and there heaven met earth, as we might come to spaces where we believe God grows ever closer to us, the cross is the true axis mundi, the axis of the world. It is where heaven meets earth, where God is most fully revealed, where his love is shown to us, where we may draw closest to him.

Jesus on his cross is the full revelation of God, and the place where we might know him most fully, worship most fully. God is the one who gives himself up for his creation. God is the one who forgives his enemies. God is the one who makes strength out of weakness, creates life in death. Here we see the character, the presence, of God most fully. We know in truth what God is like. When the Samaritan woman at the well asks Jesus where people should worship God Jesus tells her, “the true worshippers will worship the Father in spirit and in truth.” This is the true spiritual worship, this is the truth of God, Jesus on his cross.

Paul says this is foolishness. Jews seek signs, greeks seek wisdom, all we have is the anointed one of God dangling on a cross. But for us being saved it is the power and the wisdom of God. When we look closely we see his eyes of love. When we attend, we know God makes himself known in the depths of our suffering and despair. When we worship the crucified we know we, truly, worship God.

Crucis: Take Up Your Cross

Crucis: Take Up Your Cross

God Raises the Dead

Mark 8:31-38

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. Feb. 25th, 2024

We make sense of our lives and our world by telling stories. Discrete facts and experiences mean very little to us unless we can frame it in a narrative. And the stories we tell ourselves can become the stories we live by. These stories are not just formed after the fact, but they become in some way determinative for how we live in the future. Because we can only act in a world we can see, and we can only see a world that has already been framed by some story.

If I were to ask you what it means to be an American, you’d probably end up telling me some story. A story of resistance to tyranny, free patriots, and the American experiment. If I were to ask you who you are, you would tell me a story. And, if I were to ask what it means to be a Christian, why, that is another story. A story about Jesus.

It is important to be clear about our stories because they are so determinative. If we are not clear about our stories then we might tell them wrongly. And if we tell them wrongly we might act wrongly. We might fail to recognize what Jesus has actually done, and actually told us to do.

This morning Peter finds himself in a muddled story that Jesus needs to set straight. Just before our reading Jesus asked his disciples “who do people say that I am?” They replied that some say John the Baptist, some say Elijah, some say one of the prophets. But then he asks an even more pointed question, “who do you say that I am?” It’s Peter who answers for the group, “You are the messiah.” You are the anointed one. You are the one promised by God to bring salvation to his people. Peter here seems to recognize the story that he is in. He has found the messiah, he is walking with the holy one of God. His story is a story of mighty salvation and redemption.

But Jesus goes on to clarify the story. He clarifies the story by speaking of what it is that the messiah must do. That he must, “must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again.” This disturbs Peter who takes him aside to rebuke him. The messiah isn’t supposed to die! He is the mighty one of God! The messiah is not to be rejected by his own people! He’s supposed to restore them to glory! Has Jesus lost the plot?

But what Peter meant to do privately, Jesus does publicly. He rebukes Peter saying, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.” He has muddled the story, because he’s inserted human things into it. When he needs to focus on divine things.

Jesus, then, doubles down. “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.” These remain hard words. Difficult words. It still challenges the stories we tell ourselves.

Most of the stories we tell ourselves these days tend to be stories of self-actualization. That there is a hero, where we always place ourselves, who is thrust into a situation. Perhaps they were chosen, perhaps circumstance brought them to the moment. And by the aid of wise figures and trusted friends they must learn to actualize their abilities and grow as a hero so they can win the boon and save the day. Marvel, Harry Potter, Star Wars, all have this basic outline. And we tend to think of our own lives in a similar way. How might I actualize my abilities? How can I be true to myself? How can I fulfill my goals? Me, me, me.

Notice how there’s all sorts of programs and scholarships for leadership but hardly anything about followership. Our schools are producing the leaders of the future but never fess up to producing the followers of the future. Where are the leaders without followers? But the story we tell ourselves is the story where I might be the leader. I might be the hero. Even in this one case, this one instance. I might fulfill my abilities, get that boon.

And in the case of Peter he is telling a story where the Davidic dynasty will be restored to Israel, the temple cleansed, the Romans kicked out, and God mightily showing his power through military force. A very human way of looking at things. He wants to see his hopes and dreams actualized through Jesus. But that is not the story we find ourselves in. That is not the story Jesus tells. That is not the story of the Gospel. Rather, the story is you must die!

No wonder this remains countercultural. If we want to be Christians, Jesus says, we ought to deny ourselves. We ought to take up a horrific instrument of execution, and we ought to follow Jesus on his way to his own death. If we want to follow Jesus we need to lose our lives for the sake of Christ, that we might gain them. And to drive the point home, to show he’s not kidding, he adds, “Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.”

To be clear Jesus isn’t telling us to be losers. He isn’t telling us to be placemats. To give up. To hold a pity party. To lose joy. To deny and reject life itself. But, as Paul reminds us this morning we worship the God who, "gives life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist.” We are to empty ourselves that we might be full of the Spirit. Deny our self-will, that we may follow God’s will. Daily die to ourselves that we might daily live to God. That we may say with Paul, “It is not I who live, but Christ who lives in me.” Because those who wish to gain their lives, will lose it. Those who lose their lives, will find it. Those who follow Jesus to the cross, will join in his resurrection.

God raises the dead. God delivers those who have no other hope. The story of the Gospel is that of death and resurrection. Giving up our own attempts to save ourselves, relying on the God who can raise our dead selves. To this day that remains countercultural. But to this day it remains our hope.

Crucis: The World Upside Down

Crucis: The World Upside Down

God Turns the World Upside Down

Mark 1:9-15

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. Feb. 18th, 2024

The Acts of the Apostles recounts a riot that took place in Thessalonica. Paul arrived in the city and preached in the synagogue about Jesus, as was his custom. Some of the Jews were persuaded, but Paul had more success among the greeks and some of the leading women of the city. He had enough success in his mission that others in the city saw him as a threat. They formed a mob and set out to find Paul and his associate Silas at the house of a man by the name of Jason. When they couldn’t find Paul and Silas they decided Jason and the others in the house were a good prize. They dragged them before the city authorities shouting, “These people who have been turning the world upside down have come here also, and Jason has entertained them as guests!”

Turning the world upside down. How long has it been since the Church has had the same accusation leveled against her? Paul walked into the city of Thessalonica preaching to both Jews and greeks. He told women that they had the same dignity as men. He told the poor that God became poor for their sake, that they might have God’s riches. He told the Romans that Jesus, this crucified carpenter and not Caesar is Lord. He was disrupting the Synagogue, he was subverting the hierarchy. The accusation was not entirely out of place. These people have been turning the world upside down. As Mary sang, “He has shown the strength of his arm, He has scattered the proud in their conceit. He has cast down the mighty from their thrones, and has lifted up the humble. He has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich He has sent away empty.”

It can be hard to see this reality. It can be hard to see why this should be the reality. But the world turned upside down is but one way to describe the Kingdom of God.

As we begin Lent, we return to the beginning of Mark’s Gospel. Jesus is baptized by John and the heavens are torn open like the temple veil, the Holy Spirit descends on Jesus like a dove, and Jesus hears a voice from heaven, "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am delighted.” And as soon as this miraculous event takes place, the announcement of the Father’s delight, the rending of the skies and heaven meeting earth, Jesus is driven by the Spirit that was like a dove into the wilderness. There, in the wilderness, he is tempted by Satan for forty days with only wild animals and angels to wait on him. When the forty days are up, when John had been arrested, Jesus is ready to begin his public ministry.

“The time is fulfilled,” he says, "and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.”

The heavens torn apart, the Spirit of God driving Jesus into the wilderness, wild animals made tame, angels at his beck and call, Satan unable to lift a finger, this is all wild stuff. It’s like the new creation, with the spirit descending on the waters of baptism and the wild animals in harmony with Adam. It is the strange stuff of a new world. The time being fulfilled. The Kingdom of God coming near.

But while the heavens are open and the Spirit is moving Jesus says this announcement, these glad tidings, require a response. “Repent!” He says.

The word repent means literally a change of mind, or perhaps better put a change of heart. Because Jesus isn’t calling us to change simply how we think, change our ideas, he’s asking us to change our wills and our desires. He’s asking us to make a shift in the core of who we are. A shift away from life as we know it, to life in the Gospel. That is what it means to repent. To resolve to love as God loves. To resolve to be merciful as God is merciful. To resolve to see this world in a whole new way. To resolve to see the world turned upside down.

I don’t think I’m talking out of turn when I say things aren’t going well. Wars, plague, crisis. People without food, people without shelter, people gunned down. This world is not working. Perhaps it needs to be turned upside down. And that begins by recognizing what it is God has already done.

This Lent I’m going to focus on the cross. What is it that God has done? What is the strange way that God has turned the world upside down? What is the strange new world into which we are called? What does it mean to follow the way of the cross?

The Method to our Ist

Repentance means a change of mind, and a change of heart. John the Baptist prepares the way of the Lord by preaching repentance. He calls the people of Israel from the docility of their sins into the wild adventure of holiness. But it is so easy to say “repent.” It is harder to do.

Sin is not just a free choice, but an enslaving power. We become attached to our own laziness, or lust, or greed to the point that our sin begins to control us. It is no simple matter to simply change our hearts and minds. I want to give some advice.

John Wesley would preach repentance of sins and the forgiveness of God in Christ. He told people that if they wished to “flee from the wrath to come” that they were welcome to join the Methodist Societies. He knew the power of sin in his own life, and he knew it was not enough for someone to make a decision when they heard a sermon. They needed support, accountability, and a loving community. That community was the society, broken down into small groups called “classes.”

Membership in the society was easy. All one needed was a desire to flee from sin, and to follow three rules. These three rules were to do no harm to oneself or others, to do good for others, and to attend to the ordinances of God. These three things, done in community, are a powerful way to repent and grow in discipleship.

The first two rules are to do no harm and to do good. As the old saying goes nature abhors a vacuum. It is not enough to stop doing something, you need to pick something up. It is not enough to stop sinning, but you need to replace the energy that went into that sinful desire with something else. In my experience it’s good to try to replace the sin with its opposite. I mentioned in the sermon on Sunday that I recognized I’m angrier than I’d like to be. And I saw practicing patience as the opportunity to work through that anger. Patience is the opposite of anger. The more patient I become the less angry I will be by necessity. Doing no harm must always, always, be tethered to doing good. If you want to be less greedy practice generosity, if you want to be less lazy practice cleaning your room, if you want to be less envious practice gratitude.

But it is not enough to simply do no harm and to do good. We cannot repent of our own power. We cannot lift ourselves up by our own bootstraps. We need God’s help. That is why we “attend upon the ordinances of God.” That is to say, we practice God’s means of grace. John Wesley listed seven “ordinances” he wanted those in the society to practice: public worship of God, hearing or reading scripture expounded, holy communion, family and private prayer, scripture study, fasting or abstinence, and holy or spiritual conversation. These are means by which God speaks to us, breaks through our mundane lives with his grace, and empowers us to lead lives of discipleship.

It is enough to say we do these things, but we need to be held to them. Which is why the society was created, and why everyone was put into small groups. If you want to follow the Wesleyan way of repentance this Advent, find a prayer partner you trust, search the scriptures together, talk about your week, and lovingly hold one another accountable to your walk.

Hurry Up and Wait! Repent

Hurry Up and Wait!: Repent

Repentance Opens Us Up to Happiness

Mark: 1:1-8

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. Dec. 10th, 2023

There’s a story I’ve often wanted to write. The trouble is it’s less of a story and more of an idea. So I’ve never been able to crack it. It’s science fiction. One of those alien stories. The aliens arrive and decide that we have advanced culturally to the point that they can open the secrets of the universe up to us. We can cure cancer, end aging, explore the universe. We can end poverty, heal the planet, and end war. No strings attached, no caveats. They aren't trying to eat us. They aren’t involving us in some intergalactic war. They’re not trying to make us their slaves. They only want to end our suffering, and they succeed.

All sorts of adventures await. We can explore the deepest trenches of the ocean. We can climb every mountain. If we want we can sail a starship past the pillars of creation. We can see where the black hole goes.

The story is from the perspective of someone who has lived hundreds of years, perhaps millennia. They have seen everything, done everything, experienced everything. And the end result is they’re exhausted. They’re bored. They want to die. Because you can only do these things so many times before they lose their luster. Even the great nebula become rote. Even a life full of pleasure eventually becomes monotonous. What we ultimately desire, what we ultimately seek cannot be satisfied in this life. We get glimpses of it, of course. But it’s all transitory and fleeting. Our true happiness comes from beyond ourselves, beyond this world, and we wait the time it is fulfilled for us.

Moreover, I imagine such a person would become all to well aware of their own personal limitations and the limitations of others. This wouldn’t be a life of moral purity. All the petty differences, squabbles, annoyances would break out once in awhile. There would still be inexplicable abuses. Sin would still reign. And with sin still reigning material abundance can only go so far. All the promises of this life cannot match the promises of the life God would give us.

Our gospel reading this morning speaks to the beginning of God’s work to restore our world, root out sin, and bring about our true and abiding happiness: the presence and love of God.

Marks’ Gospel opens, “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.” As Genesis opens “in the beginning” Mark’s gospel gives us a new beginning. That is the new beginning founded in Jesus, the son of God. While the world was hushed and people were caught up in the monotony of daily life, Jesus came to this earth to open us to the Father’s love. And he came to over come sin, and death, and to make known for us our own forgiveness. To make real for us our own salvation. To make true happiness possible.

But before that happiness can be made manifest there must first be a messenger. There must be one crying out in the wilderness, “prepare the way of the Lord!” This one is John the Baptist who comes clothed in camel’s hair and eating locusts and wild honey. He has a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. Though he says there is one coming after him who is mightier than himself. One who will baptize not with water, but with the Holy Spirit. With fire.

Last week we talked about waiting for the Lord and how we are to wait in prayer and hope. This week we are talking about the way of God, the way of love, and the way of happiness. But that way is marked, on our end, by repentance. We who are in the time of Advent need to heed the call of God’s messenger. We must repent.

The way of the cross, the way of love, is a way of repentance. We do not repent simply out of a feeling of guilt. As if it were the role of the Church to make us feel guilty all the time. More importantly we repent because God has punctured the monotony of our lives and revealed it for what it is. We repent because God has beckoned us to something still greater. To know a peace that is still greater. To experience a joy that is still greater. And we know we cannot hold onto what we have if we are going to enter the heavenly kingdom. We repent because we know what we cast aside is infinitely less than what is on offer. We change our minds and our hearts in repentance because we know God can do for us infinitely more than we can ask or imagine.

There’s an old story that I’m told isn’t true, but it still makes a good sermon illustration. The story is that in some regions they have a sort of monkey trap where some fruit is put inside of a jar and the opening to the jar is just large enough for the monkey’s hand to get in, but not large enough for the monkey’s hand grasping a fruit to get out. And the monkeys are so greedy that they won’t let go of the fruit. Sadly that isn’t true, but it remains a great image of sin and repentance. Im our sin we seek to grasp hold of things that do not belong to us, or we are not supposed to hold. But in repentance we let them go and find ourselves freed.

Repentance is freeing and liberatory. It frees us from the power of sin, and it opens us up to the infinite promises of God. The Advent of Jesus, his second coming, is all about securing our happiness. And repentance is one way that happiness becomes manifest here in this time, in this day, before his coming again.

Hurry Up and Wait! Hope

Hurry Up and Wait!: Hope

Advent is the Season of Waiting

Mark: 13:24-37

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. Dec. 3rd, 2023

I noticed this year that Walmart had Christmas decorations up before Halloween. The Christmas music began to blare through store speakers disconcertingly early. Even downtown got lights on as soon as Halloween was over with. We like to rush to Christmas. We want to rush to caroling, presents, Santa, family, chestnuts roasting on an open fire and Jack Frost nibbling at your nose. But before Christmas we have Advent. A time for waiting.

I enjoy Advent because Advent is the season of our lives. It is the time we devote to waiting for the coming of the King. We look back at how the prophets, Joseph, and Mary waited for Jesus. And when looking back we look to ourselves, who also wait for the coming of Jesus. We are the ones who are to keep awake. We are the ones who are to wait in expectant hope. Advent calls us to take seriously this waiting, this period of history, as we wait for the end to come.

Appropriately, then, our first gospel reading concerns waiting for the end. Though it may not seem very Christmas-y itself. Linus is probably not reading Mark chapter 13 at the end of a Christmas special. But Jesus has been walking among the Temple with his disciples, and his friends marvel at the structure. Jesus uses the occasion to teach them about the end. That the day is coming when not one stone will be on top of another. And they will have to be ready.

“Beware,” he says, “keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come.” Jesus is insistent on this point, “Therefore keep awake. … And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake.” We may need to fall asleep for Santa to arrive, but we are expected to keep awake for Jesus to arrive. When he’s so insistent it must be important. But what does this wakefulness mean? What does it mean to keep alert? Surely he does not mean for us literally to stay awake, our eyes open, keeping vigil? What does the alertness, the wakefulness, Jesus calls us to here look like?

Jesus’ call to keep alert reminds me of his praying in Gethsemane. After the last supper with his disciples Jesus heads out with Peter, James, and John to a garden to pray. “My soul is very sorrowful,” Jesus says, “Even to death; remain here, and keep awake.” He goes out to pray. He asks that the cup be taken from him, if it is his Father’s will. He sweats blood. He knows what is coming. He is wracked with anxiety and fear. But when he returns to his disciples he finds them sleeping. “Simon,” he asks, “are you sleeping? could you not watch one hour? Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation; the spirit indeed is willing but the flesh is weak.”

He goes to pray again. And when he returns the disciples are once again asleep. A third time he goes to pray, and returns to find them asleep! “Are you still sleeping and taking your rest? It is enough; the hour has come; the Son of man is betrayed into the hands of sinners.” Judas arrives, Jesus is taken.

I don’t think it’s an idle detail that in Jesus’ parable of the doorkeeper he says, “you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn.” That Maundy Thursday Jesus had his last supper with his disciples in the evening, was betrayed at midnight, was denied by Peter at the cockcrow, and delivered to Pilate at dawn. The wakefulness Jesus expects of us is analogous to the wakefulness Jesus expected of Peter, James, and John in the garden. And the wakefulness Jesus knew Peter would not have in the courtyard as the rooster crowed.

That wakefulness, that vigilance, is shown in two ways.

The first is that we remain hopeful. Peter is prepared to die for Jesus until Jesus refuses to fight back. Then despair overcomes him and he denies his Lord. The disciples flee the hour when they were called to be awake. They did not see that the cross was not a defeat but a triumph. They lacked hope. But we are called to remain hopeful. To know that we are in the time of God’s patience, the God who regards a day as a thousand years and a thousand years as a day. That hope that we have means we should regard each day as the end. Each moment as a moment where Christ may return. And to be ready for that. Because that is our hopeful expectation. Not forgetting that hope.

The second is that we are to remain in prayer. What does Jesus expect Peter, James, and John to do as he prays in the garden? They are to pray as well. But they cannot. They are overcome by sleepiness. They shirk their duties and do not keep vigil. We are called to keep vigil. We are to be a people of prayer. Who pray for ourselves, pray for our friends, our family, our world. We are to hold up all things in prayer as we keep watch. Waiting for that day when “thy kingdom comes, thy will is done, on earth as in heaven.” And our prayers are ultimately fulfilled.

Jesus thinks it is of the utmost importance that we stay awake. How do we stay awake? Through hope and prayer. Through prayerful hope. The hope of knowing Christ will return and could return this very second. The discipline of prayer where God makes himself known to us in our hearts, and by which we lift up the concerns of our world. If we want to keep a holy Advent, prayer and hope are the ways to start.

Christ the King

Christ the King

God Reigns

Ephesians 1:15-23

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. Nov. 26th, 2023

The City of Ephesus was ancient, even in Roman times. She was a bustling port city, a center of Roman power in Asia Minor. Even today many of her buildings remain, though in ruins. The great Library of Celsus, a massive theater that could hold over twenty thousand spectators. But the most prized, and most renowned monument was the famous Temple of Artemis. One of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World.

The Temple lay just outside the city of Ephesus, clearly seen from within the city’s walls. Many would travel hundreds of miles just to see its splendor. The festivals and games associated with the sacred site would last weeks. Ephesian life was dependent on the success of the Temple, literally centered around the Temple.

In Acts chapter 19 we read about Paul’s first missionary trip to Ephesus. We are told right before he planned to leave to Macedonia a silversmith by the name of Demetrius caused trouble for the small church that had just been planted there. Demetrius made little silver shrines to Artemis for travelers, his income dependent on the success of the Temple. When he heard about the Christians, and how they were growing in numbers, he became concerned. The Christians, like the Jews, rejected idols such as the silver statues he made. But the Christians, unlike the Jews, were winning converts. He told the other craftsmen in Ephesus, “Men, you know that from this business we have our health. And you see and hear that not only at Ephesus but almost throughout all Asia this Paul has persuaded and turned away a considerable company of people, saying that gods made with hands are not gods. And there is danger not only that this trade of ours may come into disrepute but also that the temple of the great goddess Artemis may count for nothing, and that she may even be deposed from her magnificence, she whom all Asia and the world worship.”

His speech riled up the crowds who began to shout, “Great is Artemis of the Ephesians! Great is Artemis of the Ephesians! Great is Artemis of the Ephesians!” They knew the threat these Christians posed. The end of their way of life. The destruction of their gods. Dishonor and disrepute to the great city of Ephesus.

The whole city was thrown into confusion. They rushed into that twenty thousand plus seat arena carrying Gaius and Aristarchus, two of Paul’s companions. But there was no order to the mob. Everyone was thrown into confusion. And no one knew quite what to do.

Finally, the town clerk quieted the crowd and said, “Men of Ephesus, what man is there who does not know that the city of the Ephesians is temple keeper of the great Artemis, and of the sacred stone that fell from the sky? seeing then that these things cannot be contradicted you ought to be quiet and do nothing rash. For you have brought these men here who are neither sacrilegious nor blasphemers of our goddess. If therefore Demetrius and the craftsmen with him have a complaint against any one, the courts are open, and there are proconsuls; let them bring charges gains tone another. But if you seek anything further, it shall be settled in the regular assembly. For we are in danger of being charged with rioting today, there being no cause that we can give to justify this commotion.” And, with that, the mob dispersed. And the handful of Christians in Ephesus were protected.

I tell this story to give some context to the passage we heard from Paul’s letter to those same Ephesians this morning. It is easy for us to imagine the letter being written in a large beautiful sanctuary such as our own. The church in Ephesus made up of at least one hundred or two hundred people. But our best estimates are that the church in Ephesus may not have been any larger than 40 persons, and that they likely gathered in small homes or in apartments in tenements. And when they gathered it likely was not as the whole church, but as cells of the church. They would have experienced extreme isolation from the rest of Ephesian society. Not able to participate in the festivals, likely unable to participate in the craftsmen associations. Dependent, largely, on each other. On charitable giving they called love. Always knowing that a man like Demetrius might cause a frenzy again, that they may be persecuted again. That they may lose their lives.

We must keep this context in mind as we imagine the Ephesians gathered in a dingy, cold, candle lit room on a Sunday morning before the sun rises. They are at table. They’ve been singing psalms. Perhaps they heard a scripture read. Or heard a testimony. They have with them a special guest, an associate of Paul’s who has a letter from him. He hasn’t been able to visit because he’s in prison. They pray for him. As the guest begins to read they hear, “God put this power to work in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly places, far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named, not only in this age but also in the age to come. And he has put all things under his feet and has made him the head over all things for the church, which is his body, the fullness of him who fills all in all.”

It ought to strike us as absurd. These poor, outcast, put down people being told that Caesar is not Lord of this world but a crucified Jew is. And that the Crucified lives, is at the right hand of the power on high, and is head over all things. Not only does he rule over all things but he rules over all things on behalf of them. The marginalized, the ostracized, the objects of mockery and scorn. But as ridiculous as it all is they receive the word as it is. A prophetic message. And they have hope.

The announcement of Christ’s Kingship is not any less absurd today than it was when Paul wrote to the church in Ephesus. It is absurd to put our faith in this crucified Jew. It is absurd to believe that in spite of all that is going on in the world it is this man who is in control. It is absurd to believe that he rules all things on our behalf. For our good. For the benefit of his Church. It is far more easy for us to imagine that we may take the reigns of history, not that we would entrust them to Christ.

But this is what Christ the King Sunday is for. To remind us that in spite of all we see, in spite of all that we may face, it is this Jesus who we know who rules. And soon all his enemies shall be overthrown. The last to be overthrown being death. As the Ephesians in their own circumstance held this hope so must we. He reigns so we don’t have to. He is bringing all things to their end. And every tear will be wiped away. He is the good shepherd who cares for his sheep. And he will make all things right on that day.

Social Holiness: Hope

Social Holiness: Hope

God’s Salvation is Not in Our Grasp

1 Thessalonians 5:1-11

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. Nov. 19th, 2023

One summer I was out to visit a friend and he took me to two worship services. One worship service was in the morning. It was a venerable church with a large endowment. They had a pipe organ with a top tier organist. They hired a choir from the nearby university. Everything about the production was excellent. Only there were hardly any people, and those who were there didn’t seem all that engaged. Despite all that was put into the service the spirit was lacking.

Later that day he took me to another church that met in the parish house. It was a ragtag group of old hippies and college students. They sat in a circle, almost like a Quaker meeting. One of them broke out a guitar and they sang hymns and praise choruses. Someone brought a message. They gathered in prayer and made intercession for all the ills of the world. Even though they lacked a building, an organ, a choir, or an endowment; and even though they were small in number, yet the Spirit was present in that gathering. I felt the Spirit’s stillness, and hopefulness.

When we gather in worship it is not simply to meet old friends or to hear edifying messages or to enjoy music. It is not to sing our lungs out or to raise funds for community work. It is so that we, as the gathered body of Christ, might know the Spirit’s presence. That we would witness to the living God. It is the Holy Spirit that makes a holy Church. And where the Spirit of the Lord is there is freedom. Freedom from sin, freedom from guilt, freedom to be faithful, loving, hopeful people following Christ.

We need to have conviction about the Spirit’s presence. Jesus promised that it was to our benefit that he would ascend to heaven because he would send the advocate, the comforter to us. A downpayment of our salvation. The presence of God in our midst that propels us on and teaches us what we need to know to follow Christ. But we also need to have a certain awe and reverence. The Holy Spirit is not a power given to us like we were some superheroes, the Holy Spirit is the Holy God in our midst and Lord over the Church. The Holy Spirit gives us life. And the Holy Spirit is not, not, at our command.

It is a continual temptation for the Church in all ages, and by extension for Christians of all ages, to assume the Holy Spirit is ours as a possession. That the gifts of God are ours for our disposal. But the Spirit is not our possession, he is not at our disposal, the Spirit is the living God in our midst. As the Lord was present to the Israelites in their wilderness wanderings as a pillar of fire by night and a pillar of cloud by day, in these latter days God makes his presence known among his people in his Spirit.

It is easy for us to think of God as at our disposal because God is so faithful and generous. There’s an old GK Chesterton line about God’s eternal youthfulness, "Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, ‘Do it again’; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, ‘Do it again’ to the sun; and every evening, ‘Do it again’ to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.” So too it is when we clasp our hands in prayer or gather around the table. God never tires of our prayers or our intercessions. But each and every time God acts out of his free love and grace. Not out of any command we might make of God. Not on account of our own authority.

We are yet sinners. We are yet broken and incomplete. God’s full salvation has not yet been seen. We are all pilgrims on the way, sinners seeking salvation. What we will be has not yet been revealed.

God makes his presence known in the Holy Spirit. And yet at the same time God promises more. The full promises of God have yet to be fulfilled. This morning Paul turns our attention to the end. The end, Paul says, that is coming like a thief in the night. The end, he says, that comes in sudden destruction. But an end that need not surprise us. Because we are children of the day, not the night. We have the Holy Spirit in our midst teaching us all things. And through the Spirit we know we are not destined for wrath, but we are destined for salvation in Christ. And that same Spirit may keep us sober, keep us awake, prepare us for the fullness of the Lord’s coming.

We should never presume that salvation is in hand. We should never presume that we have such authority that we can call down God’s power at will. We should never presume that we have made it, that our salvation is secure. If we presume we are no longer a people of hope.

The future is in God’s hands. The movements of the Spirit are the free movements of God. Our salvation is in God’s hands. Recognizing this is the fear of the Lord that is the beginning of wisdom, and also the beginning of holiness. All is in Gods hands. But he is patient, long-suffering, full of loving kindness. The love of God endures forever. We may have hope in his promise. A promise he makes known in the Spirit of God in our midst.

Social Holiness: Rapture

Social Holiness: Rapture

God Renews All Things

1 Thessalonians 4:13-18

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. Nov. 12th, 2023

Sin can be characterized as selfishness. It is our tendency to curve in on ourselves at the expense of others, and ultimately at the expense of ourselves. Sin leads to death, because we need to be open to others in order to live. So pride is placing yourself above others, greed is seeking to possess as much money and resources as possible, envy is wishing what someone else had was yours and hating them for it, lust is seeking to possess someone else as a sexual object, and so on. Holiness is the opposite of sin. Where sin draws us in on ourselves until we die, holiness opens us up to others that we would act selflessly and in love.

Holiness, in that sense, requires hope. As holiness opens us up to God and neighbor that we would encounter them not as the objects of our own satisfaction but as subjects we may love, hope is our open dependence on God. Our trust that he will bring his promises to past and bring all things to their end. You can’t have holiness if you are without hope.

You can’t follow Christ if you don’t have hope.

It is no surprise, then, that Paul speaks to our hope in Christ this morning. Paul tells the Church in Thessaloniki that he does not want them to be uninformed about those who have died, that they might grieve like those who have no hope. Perhaps Paul had heard that people were worried about people who had died since the Church was established since Christ had yet to return. If Jesus is the first fruits of the resurrection from the dead, and people die before he comes back, what becomes of them? How can this be? Paul wants to answer this.

He tells them that through Jesus God will bring with him those who have died. And he explains how. When Jesus returns the dead in Christ will rise first, and we will all be caught up with them to meet Jesus in the air. This, Paul says, ought to encourage us.

This passage is often misunderstood and it’s important to get some clarity because it concerns our hope in Christ. And if Paul wants us to be encouraged by his words we ought to be encouraged by what he actually says not what we think he says. This passage has often been interpreted as a text about the rapture. That is the idea that before Jesus comes to earth he will rapture up all the Christians so they will not have to endure the great tribulation. The most famous exponent of this theory now is probably the Left Behind series of books. The trouble is the rapture is taught nowhere in Scripture and no Christian believed it before the 19th century.

Our hope is not that we might leave the earth behind, or God might deliver us from suffering. The whole book of Revelation makes no sense if you assume the Church will be raptured before the tribulation takes place. The book is written to console Christians in tribulation. It presumes the Church will suffer, is suffering, and wants to know how long until Jesus returns.

Our hope is in our bodily resurrection and a new heaven and new earth. We do not hope to leave earth. We hope and pray for the redemption of this earth and for all things to be made new. For every tear to be wiped from every eye. For the glory of God to shine like the sun. Christianity is not an escapist religion. It’s not that we think we leave earth for heaven, it’s that God brings heaven to earth.

The image that Paul is using here is based on a royal entrance. In the Roman world if a king or general were to visit a city dignitaries would first leave the city to invite the king in. And there would be festivities. We actually get an example of such an entrance in Palm Sunday. Jesus is first met outside the city walls by the multitudes who lead him in with singing and rejoicing. Paul tells us it will be like that at the end when Jesus arrives in glory to set the world right. The archangels trumpet will herald his arrival, the dead in Christ will rise first and get in front of the line. Then the church militant will join them and meet Jesus in the air. The part that is implicit, but clear in the full context of Paul’s writings, is that Jesus will then come to earth in judgment. Because he must be all in all.

The key here is our hope in resurrection and in God making all things new. Our hope is not that we will fly away and abandon this earth. Our hope is that God will redeem this earth and make it new. God does not abandon the things he creates. He redeems them. God does not abandon us, God redeems us. And so too, we are not to abandon the world. But we are to be witnesses to the love and glory of God. Joyful, hopeful, loving witnesses. A people so full of scriptural holiness that we reform the nation and Church.

Social Holiness: The Prism of the Cross

Social Holiness: The Prism of the Cross

The Cross is the Ultimate Revelation of God

1 Thessalonians 2:9-13

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. Nov. 5th, 2023

C.S. Lewis said that we ought to read books from different eras because each era has its own blindness. That’s a piece of advice I’ve taken to heart. When I prepare for sermons I make sure to read commentaries not just from the last 50 years, but from hundreds of years ago. I don’t just read contemporary theology but works from the Church Fathers or the Reformers or from wildly different contexts. It’s hard to see beyond ones own blinders but also very rewarding. You also get a deeper sense of the blinders of past generations. I remember reading a book from 1907 on Christianity and politics, as one does, and there was a strange aside about the dysgenic consequences of medieval monasticism. You may wonder, what does dysgenic mean? It means the author feared monasticism decreased the quality of the racial stock. In other words, he was using the language of eugenics.

In case anyone isn’t familiar eugenics is the pseudoscience that says we can improve the quality of human beings through breeding. As one improves a dog say, or cattle, one can improve humans. Find a stud, have them breed. Find people with disabilities and keep them from breeding.

Eugenics was once taken very seriously as a science in the United States. In fact one of the centers of eugenic activism and thought was in Michigan. I don’t need to get into that sordid history. Ultimately the Nazis in Germany took eugenics to its logical conclusions and people saw it for what it is. What I really want to focus on is the way eugenics was preached. The American Eugenics Society once held a competition for sermons on the topic of eugenics. Luckily we have the submissions. I want to share a few quotes.

“The Bible is a book of eugenics. The opening chapters of Matthew and Luke are virtually chapters on eugenics. Christ was born of a family that represented a long process of religious and moral selection. He came from a stock of priestly and prophetic men; a stock of men that represented the highest product of religious and moral selection in the history of the world. “

“From Mount Sinai, God is thundering his commandment against bowing down to idols, a sort of worship which an unobserving man might say would do no harm, but which God knew would poison the bodies, minds and morals of not merely the generation that sinned, but of the generations to come. God is warning most solemnly that the iniquity of the fathers will run in the blood of the coming generations, and is pointing out that terrible law of heredity, so clearly established now by scientists, that blood will tell, that criminality, insanity, idiocy, tuberculosis, alcoholism, and other vices, whose strong corruption inhabits our germ-plasms, leap from parents to children, damning the offspring before it is even born.”

"But the fact is that long before a child is born the germ plasm which he will transmit and which will determine the heredity of his offspring has been set aside in little glands and can in no way be affected, except by gross chemical disturbances of the blood, as in alcholic [sic] poisoning, or the penetration of disease germs within these reproductive glands themselves. … The flippant may ask, "What responsibility have we for our neighbors' children?" But those who have apprehended the spirit of religion will reply, "we are one body in Christ Jesus. "And whether one member suffer, all the members suffer with it; or one member is honored all the members rejoice with it." There is a sickness in our body, a faintness and a spread of disease. And we shall seek healing, redemption and salvation, till we behold the coming of the Community of God and its peace.”

These are all men of God, students of Scripture, going to their bibles and producing arguments as to why the disabled should not be allowed to reproduce. We find that morally abhorrent today. We may also think their biblical examples are total stretches. Do the genealogies of Jesus really exist to show us Jesus’ great racial line? Did God really say the sins of the fathers will be visited on the sons because of heredity? Does being one body in Christ Jesus really mean we have an obligation to keep disabled people from having children? But they clearly thought they were preaching the gospel. That the word of God, in their day, meant promoting eugenic theories. What are we to make of this?

This question is no mere academic or intellectual exercise. It’s not an idle matter. It ought to strike us as deeply relevant. Because people did not just turn to their bibles to justify eugenics. They turned to their bibles to justify slavery. They turned to their bibles to justify segregation. They turned to their bibles to justify genocide. All sorts of hellish justifications have been made from scripture. And let us not forget that when Satan sought to tempt Jesus he did so with the words of Scripture.

Paul tells us this morning that when the Church in Thessaloniki received the word of God they recognized that it was not a human word, but it is God’s word. And that God’s word is not idle but is at work within them. That word being the proclamation of Christ crucified and risen. The key to the Scriptures. That is where we must go.

The Gospel of Eugenics, the Gospel of Slavery, the Gospel of Genocide, does this reflect Christ crucified and risen? In all the sermons from the competition that I read, none of them reference the Cross. They cannot. Because they do not present a cruciform Gospel. It is, as Paul would say, another gospel. They may know the words of scripture, but they’ve lost the plot as the British would say. They don’t know the story.

The rule of thumb for Scripture is everything must go through the prism of the ultimate revelation of God, and that is Christ on his cross. Does this reflect the love shown to us in Christ? Does this reflect the gracious action of God in delivering us from sin? Does this reflect Christ’s self-emptying, Christ’s self-donation? Or are we twisting the words to feed another narrative? Do we use Christian like language, and give the words a different meaning? So grace is no longer grace, forgiveness no longer forgiveness, love no longer love.

We must continually challenge ourselves to see clearly, read rightly, and love one another as Christ loved us. This is why we cannot pursue holiness alone. We pursue holiness together in the life of the Church. This is why discipleship cannot be a solo endeavor. Why there is no holiness but social holiness. God brings us together that we would build one another up, and point each other to the Cross and empty tomb.

Social Holiness: Reaching Out

Social Holiness: Reaching Out

Be Perfect as Your Heavenly Father is Perfect

1 Thessalonians 2:1-8

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. Oct. 29th, 2023

John Wesley is often quoted as saying, “the gospel of Christ knows of no religion, but social; no holiness but social holiness. Faith working by love, is the length and breadth and depth and height of Christian perfection.” This is often misunderstood. Some people take “social holiness” to be a more pious way of saying social justice. Certainly holiness and justice do not conflict. But John Wesley really means to emphasize the social, corporate, nature of our salvation. We are not made holy by ourselves. We are not saved by ourselves. God works in and through the Church. God saves us together.

Or, more to the point, holiness simply is a way of relating to each other and to God. There is no holiness but social holiness because holiness concerns our relationships.

One of the effects of sin is to make us selfish. We are selfish almost instinctually. St. Augustine of Hippo said we are full of a lust for domination and were curved in on ourselves. We wish to dominate and control ourselves and others, and we are self-seeking self-aggrandizing creatures. But, generally speaking, a creature that has curved in on itself is a creature that is dead. We can’t be self reliant, we simply have to reach out. Herbert McCabe, a Dominican theologian, put it beautifully when he said the dilemma of human life is that we know that if we truly love others we will get crucified for it, but if we don’t love others we will be dead already. He was just summarizing Augustine’s point, and by extension Paul’s as well. Sin leads to selfishness, control, pride, and a lust for domination.

Holiness reverses that. In holiness we are open to those we encounter. We are selfless in love. We imitate Jesus who cured all who would come to him, who taught all, who engaged all, who died for all. And we imitate our Father in heaven who makes the rain to fall on the just and the unjust alike. “Be perfect,” Jesus tells us, “as your heavenly Father is perfect.”

There’s a beautiful story Dostoevsky tells in the Brothers Karamazov that illustrates what I mean. I know I’ve told this story before, but a good story is worth retelling. It’s a short parable about a very wicked woman who died in sin. The devils came and plunged her into the lake of Hell. But her Guardian Angel looked for one good deed that she might use to deliver the woman from the torment of hell. I think it’s important to remember that God is not out to damn anyone and makes every effort to save. The angel remembers that the woman once picked an onion and gave it to a beggar. She tells God this and God says, “You take that onion then, hold it out to her in the lake, and let her take hold and be pulled out. And if you can pull her out of the lake, let her come to Paradise, but if the onion breaks, then the woman must stay where she is.”

So the angel goes to the lake of fire and holds out the onion to her. The woman grabs the onion and the angel slowly draws her out of the lake. As soon as her ankles leave the flames the other sinners notice and leap for their salvation. They grip her ankles and form a chain hoping that they all might be taken out with her.

But she was a very wicked woman, so she began to kick them off. “I’m the one being pulled out! It’s my onion! Not yours!” She shouts.

And as soon as those words left her lips, the onion broke. So the angel wept and went away.

Her one good deed may have been used by God to deliver many. But instead of seeing the glory of God she grasped her own salvation in selfishness. And so the onion broke. That is sin. Sin is thinking about ourselves above others, our own glory of overs, being curved in on ourselves and seeking our own satiation at the expense of the suffering of others. Holiness is opening up to others, love in self-sacrifice. Mercy and forgiveness and joy at the glory of God.

We may be the wicked woman, but by God’s grace we may be made into the image of his Son.

This morning Paul talks about his own ministry in Thessaloniki. He says, “We might have made demands as apostles of Christ. But we were gentle among you, like a nurse tenderly caring for her own children. So deeply do we care for you that we are determined to share with you not only the gospel of God but also our own selves, because you have become very dear to us.”

This is holiness, this is love. Paul lays aside his own rights for the sake of his sisters and brothers in Christ. He shares not only the Gospel, but his own self. He, as far as his earthly flesh can allow, empties himself the way Jesus did in taking the form of a slave and taking on human likeness. He imitates the very love of God. Because holiness is imitation of God in the Spirit.

There is no holiness but social holiness. Holiness simply is the reversal of sin, our opening up to others and reaching out in love. And this social holiness is the holiness of the saints.

Social Holiness: The Holiness of God

Social Holiness: The Holiness of God

Faith, Love, Hope in Christ

1 Thessalonians 1:10

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. Oct. 22nd, 2023

The story of the Methodist revival in England is remarkable. It all began with a small group of students at Oxford who would gather to read the scriptures, pray, and encourage one another in their walk with the Lord. They were so serious in their devotions that other students derisively called them the Holy Club. Later on they would derisively call them Methodists, because they were so methodical in their personal devotions. One of the leading figures of this group was John Wesley.

John Wesley would later take up a job as a missionary with his brother Charles, the famous hymn writer. The mission was an absolute disaster and nearly ended John’s career in ministry. But when he returned to England he joined with a group of Moravians, a sort of Lutheran pietist, and there famously felt his heart strangely warmed. It was this stuffy Oxford don, and failed missionary who would later join his old friend George Whitfield (perhaps the first celebrity, and an early member of the Holy Club back at Oxford) and preach out in the fields to the workers. Between the powerful preaching of George Whitfield, the beautiful hymns of Charles Wesley, and the preaching and organizational genius of John Wesley, the Methodist revival blew up in England and lasted well beyond John Wesley’s own long life.

When the revival was well underway John Wesley’s United Society gathered in Annual Conference to work through what they were to teach and how they were to teach it. At one point Wesley was asked, “What may we reasonably believe to be God's design in raising up the Preachers called Methodists?”

His answer would become Methodism’s mission statement for decades: “To reform the nation and, in particular, the Church; to spread scriptural holiness over the land.”

The engine and purpose of the Methodist revival was scriptural holiness. But what is scriptural holiness? Or, rather, what is holiness anyway? What does it mean to be holy? To seek holiness? To spread scriptural holiness over the land? There are no self-evident answers to these questions. Perhaps that explains some of the predicament Methodism finds itself in.

Over the next five Sundays we are going to cover Paul’s first letter to the Thessalonians with an eye to his teaching on holiness. It is easy to pass over what Paul has to say about holiness because it pervades every letter of his. Holiness is the air Paul breathes. It ought to be the air we breathe as well.

Our reading this morning is from Paul’s thanksgiving at the beginning of the letter. He writes, “We always give thanks to God for all of you and mention you in our prayers constantly remembering before our God and Father your work of faith and labor of love and steadfastness of hope in our Lord Jesus Christ.” Here we have our first description of holiness.

Holiness is faith, love, and hope in Jesus Christ. Holiness is faith, our allegiance to and belief in the God revealed in Jesus Christ. Holiness is love, our seeking the good for others as we would want it for ourselves. Our constant care and concern for others. Our service to the world. And holiness is hope, our dependence on God, our trust in his promises, our conviction that in the end he will make all things right. And all these things are given to us in Christ. When we share in faith, love, and hope, we grow in holiness and are made more like Jesus.

But this dangerously makes holiness out to be a mere moral quality. Maybe you’ve heard the term “holier than thou.” That’s a degradation of holiness. Anyone who uses their moral qualities as a way to one up someone else is not truly holy. That’s another way sin enters our lives.

Holiness is more than a mere moral quality, then. It is also the presence of God in our lives. It is the presence of the Holy Spirit amongst us in power. Paul also writes, “For we know, brothers and sisters, beloved by God, that he has chosen you, because our message of the gospel came to you not in word only, but also in power and in the Holy Spirit and with full conviction.” The Church of Thessaloniki was not made a holy Church because of their moral perfection. Because they pulled themselves up by their own bootstraps. Because they made themselves better than other people. The Church of Thessaloniki was made a holy Church because the Holy Spirit dwelt among them in the word preached. They were made a holy Church because of the presence of the Holy Spirit in joy. A presence that was made palpable in their preaching and prayers and song. A presence that made itself known in power.

We must combine these two things then. What is holiness? It is God’s presence in our midst through the Holy Spirit. And when the Holy Spirit is present we are made more like God. And God builds us up in faith, love, and hope in Christ.

There is no holiness without the Holy Spirit who dwells in our midst. And the Holy Spirit imparts gifts, foremost the gifts of faith, love, and hope. This, ultimately, is scriptural holiness. This is the engine of revival, and the purpose of the Church. We are the community where God’s Holy Spirit might dwell. And we are the people who are called by God to be imitators of God in Christ. This is our high calling and purpose. But it is also the work of God in us. Because the whole Christian life, and our walk in holiness is, ultimately, sheer gift.

Kingdom: Faith

Kingdom: Faith

The Kingdom of God is Seen in the Eyes of Faith

Matthew 14:22-33

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. August 13th, 2023

I was recently reading a book about the Kingdom of God. It identified various spheres in our society that, in the books words, need to be “invaded” by God fearing Christians to take the nation back for Christ. In other words, building the Kingdom meant creating a nation by Christians and for Christians. And this required infiltrating many aspects of society. The authors explained how we need to have both the heart of a King and the heart of a servant. We need to exercise the authority and lordship of God by assuming positions of power, but we need to wield those positions as servants for the good of others. But, as Jesus sardonically says in Luke, the kings of the gentiles call themselves benefactors and rule over others.

What struck me reading the book was that in no case did it cover the manner in which Christ rules. “My Kingdom is not of this world,” Jesus says. Why? But because he rules not from a stately throne but from the Cross. If we miss this point, that God rules the nations from a tree, we will miss what it means to speak of the Kingdom of God. The Kingdom might morph into our own grasp for power, however much we think we are helping others. When the Kingdom is come in Jesus’ sacrifice on behalf of the world.

Jesus is the personification of the Kingdom of God. In his ministry he brings mercy, peace, and healing. This is all what the prophets said the Kingdom would entail. And, as we heard this morning, he commands even the winds and seas. He would grant this to us as well. But the Kingdom is not a matter of power, of human glory, of wealth, or strength. The Kingdom is seen and grasped only in faith.

This morning we are told Jesus dismisses the crowds and sends the disciples away on a boat. He, himself, goes up to a mountain to pray. James, John, Peter, and Andrew are all fishermen, and knew the waters of the sea of galilee very well. But when the storm arises even they have difficulty and are blown far off course.

Early that morning, when Jesus had planned to meet up with them, they were far from land. But that did not stop Jesus, who walked out on the stormy waters to meet them. At first, the disciples are terrified believing they have seen a ghost. But Jesus called out to them, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.”

Now Peter was the stubborn and impudent sort. So he cried out, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” Jesus replied, “come.” So Peter got out of the boat. There’s not a lot of description here, but I can’t imagine Peter jumped out. Can you? I think as boisterous and strong headed as he was he still put a toe out first to test the waters. Then laid down his right foot. Then, seeing the water miraculously held the weight of his foot, gingerly put the other foot out. Until, in joy, he realized he could walk.

But as he walked out on the water a strong wind came, and he was frightened. And fear and faith do not always mix. So he began to sink. Here, again, we’re not given many details. But I imagine the water gave way and he plunged. Peter would likely have been an adept swimmer, he lived on the water all his life. But even adept swimmers struggle with the current and in the waves. He cried out, “Lord! Save me!”

And just when he thought he might perish under the waves Jesus held out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” Jesus asked, “why did you doubt?” And then, at that moment, the storm stopped. And those in the boat began to worship saying, “Truly, you are the Son of God.” Truly, to you belongs the Kingdom.

Peter saw wonders, but even then he had to respond to those wonders in faith. By the power of God Peter could walk on water with his Lord. But even then, only by the power of faith. Faith is confidence in God, trust in his word, strong belief in his presence, work, and mercy. The Kingdom can only be perceived by the eyes of faith.

The one who walked on water, healed the sick, raised the dead, is also the same who was brutally crucified. And yet, what seems like a defeat with fleshly eyes is a victory from the eyes of faith. Through the eyes of faith the Kingdom is witnessed not just in healing, but in suffering. Not just in plenty, but in poverty. Not just in fame, but in obscurity. By the eyes of faith we see the Kingdom in all its glory. By faith we participate in the work of the Kingdom. By faith we may even walk on water. If we would not let the winds of this age drive us to doubt.

Kingdom: Discovery

Kingdom: Discovery

The Kingdom of God is the Kingdom of God

Matthew 13:31-33, 44-52

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. July 30th, 2023

The Kingdom of God is the Kingdom of God. I sometimes hear people talk about the Kingdom as if it were our enterprise. In this case the Kingdom becomes a just social order, a moral social order, or a more robust Church. Sometimes I hear people talk about “building the Kingdom.” But nowhere in the Bible does it talk about the Kingdom that we are called to build. Rather, as we see this morning, the Kingdom is a matter of growth, of discovery. It is the little and imperceptible thing that turns out to be a source of great comfort and joy.

When Jesus talks about the Kingdom of God he uses parables. A parable is a story or image, most often out of common life, that leads to some insight beyond the story. Parables can be puzzles, at times Jesus seems to use them precisely to confuse people. At other times parables are great teaching devices that put a point in a clear and memorable way. But other times, as in the case of these parables, they more function to help us see the Kingdom more clearly. If we grasp these parables then we can attune our sight to see the reign of God today.

First, Jesus tells us, the Kingdom is like a mustard seed. Though it is the “smallest of seeds” he says, it grows into the greatest of shrubs. Even into a tree. And even the birds of the air can come and take rest in its branches. The Kingdom, then, grows from the small, the imperceptible, the seemingly insignificant. The Kingdom does not come by grand gestures, but by the day to day. When I was hanging out with Catholic Workers they had a sign over the sink that said, “everyone wants a revolution but no one wants to do the dishes.” Everyone wants to sign a big check, but no one wants to hand a twenty or buy a lunch. Everyone wants to cure the sick, but no one wants to lend a helping hand. That is hyperbole, of course. As the whole parable is. But the Kingdom arrives on a short and narrow road. Not a freeway. God makes his grace known in the little acts. When you’re not seen, when you don’t have a clear end in mind, that’s when God works.

Second, Jesus says, the kingdom is like yeast a woman mixed in with flour. Until all was leavened. This parable is much like the first. You don’t see the yeast in the flour. But you see the result. You don’t see the Kingdom, but you see what it accomplishes. The imperceptible microbes make a big difference. The giving of alms, the little acts of renunciation, the little prayers, do much in the economy of God.

Third, Jesus compares the Kingdom to a treasure hidden in a field. Someone finds the treasure, and hides it. And since he knows the treasure is worth more than all he owns, he joyfully sells all he has to buy that field. And wins the treasure. He also compares the Kingdom to a merchant in search of fine pearls. And when he finds an absolutely astonishing pearl he sells all he has to purchase it. Here the Kingdom isn’t something that is made, or built, or cultivated. It is something that is found. And the discovery is so overwhelming, so exciting, so joyous, that they run off to sell all that they have to buy it. Jesus tells us to seek first the Kingdom of God and its righteousness. They put the treasure first, forsaking all they have, giving it all up, for the sake of the treasure. That is the Kingdom of God. Something more joyous, precious, and worthwhile than all things on this earth.

And, finally, he compares the Kingdom to a dragnet. This hearkens back to last Sunday. The Kingdom is like a net that drags in all sorts of fish. And the fish needed to be sorted at the end of the trip. So too with the Kingdom! God claims many people. God claims our whole selves. God is not very picky. But, in the end, all will be sorted out. Important here, I think, is that the Kingdom of God is shown to be the Kingdom of God.

So what is the Kingdom? It is God’s rule. It is the joy he brings. It is a life of peace. It is mercy and forgiveness, not just from God but also amongst one another. It is the bonds of charity that make us one. And it is not so much something we do, as much as something we find. Something more precious than the life we once knew. Something more precious than all the treasures of this world. And it is something that is at first imperceptible. But when it grows many may find comfort and rest. It is something that is here but yet awaits its full completion at the end of the age. But now we may find peace, comfort, and joy in the power of God in our midst.

Kingdom: Patience

Kingdom: Patience

God Calls Us to Patience

Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. July 23rd, 2023

Pastor Phil, before he retired, left me a garden. I am not half the gardener he is, and I have not been nearly as attentive as I ought to be. The garden he left me was full of a variety of fruits, greens, root vegetables, and the like. Varieties that I did not know existed grew in that garden. And all I needed to do was water it. Year two rolled around and I let it lie fallow. Mainly because of my own laziness. Though I justified it to myself by saying the land needs a sabbath year.

But this year I’m taking it seriously. I’ve planted squash, tomatoes, peppers, onions, cabbage, things I’m certain I will put to use. And I’ve been diligent in watering it. But what I have underestimated, what I’m having difficulty dealing with, is the sheer amount of weeds that keep sprouting up. Weeds in the flower bed. Weeds among the rhubarb. Weeds in the onions. Weeds by the peppers. Weeds, weeds, and more weeds. I was generous enough to leave a patch of land for the weeds to grow and help the pollinators. But do you think the weeds appreciated that? No, they grow where they will.

In Jesus’ parable this morning, his parable about the Kingdom, the weeds don’t grow simply because they will. They grow because of sabotage. Jesus compares the Kingdom to a man who sowed good seed in his field. But one night, while his servants were sleeping, an enemy snuck in and sowed weeds among the wheat. Or, literally, he sowed weeds in the wheat. And left before anyone noticed. Over time the weeds that the enemy sowed grew up among the wheat. Perplexing and troubling the servants who knew all the seed they sowed was good.

The owner of that farm knew what was going on. “An enemy has done this,” he said. The servants asked if he wanted them to go and pluck the weeds. The sort of backbreaking labor I have been putting off for days and weeks. But the owner tells them no, because the weeds are so entwined with the good wheat that if they were to pull the weeds they would damage the good wheat too. But when harvest comes they will take it all and separate the good and the bad.

Matthew doesn’t explain all of Jesus’ parables, but we get an explanation here. The disciples ask Jesus to explain the ominous parable of the weeds. And he tells them the one who sows the good seed is the Son of Man. We might imagine, given the similarity of the parables, that the seed of this parable is the same of seed from the parable of the sower. It is the seed of the word, the seed of the gospel, the seed of faith that grows in receptive hearts. The field is the world, the good seed is the children of the Kingdom. But the bad seeds are children of the evil one. And the reapers are angels. At the end of days, Jesus says, God will send his angels to harvest, separate the good from the bad. The bad will be burned. The good will go to everlasting life.

This parable reminds us of two things. The first is that we live in a mixed and messed up world. Good is constantly intertwined with bad. It can be hard to discern what is righteous and what is unrighteous. The line between child of God and child of the devil runs through our own hearts as well. Problems we experience in the Church are not new. The Church has always been mixed, always been encumbered by weeds, and has always been handicapped in her mission. If that mission were entirely the responsibility of her members.

But the second thing the parable reminds us of is more important. We don’t need Jesus to tell us that the good can be opaque, evil is all around us, and the Church has a mix of the two. That’s empirical. From the earliest Church we see false teaching, lies, immorality, greed, and so on. What’s important is what Jesus tells us to do about it. And that is be patient.

The workers of the farm are impatient. They want to solve this problem that plagues the crop. And so they ask if they can go out into the field and tear out the weeds. But the owner tells them if they do that they will tear up the good seed too, the two are so intertwined. We might wish for a pure Church. But then we’d have to remove ourselves as well. That line runs deep. And in this age the two, good and evil, cannot be so easily separated. So the owner tells them to be patient. Not lazy. But patient.

Wait. Wait for the end of the age. When all is harvested, when all is sorted, when we will be able to judge the good fruit from the bad, the bad seed from the good. Patience can be hard for us to hear, or hard for us to bear. But patience is a premiere Christian virtue. We can afford to be patient in the midst of trial and scandal because we put our hope in the one who is patient for our sake. Who desires that no one be condemned. Who has given us all the time in the world to spread good seed, and to know his grace.

The Kingdom of God, in this age, is a mixed kingdom. But it is also a kingdom of patience. A kingdom of patient people following a patient God. Relying on him to perfectly fulfill his promises at the end.

Kingdom: Wisdom

Kingdom: Wisdom

Jesus is the Wisdom of God

Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. July 9th, 2023

It’s easy to pine over the legends of old. What would it have been like to see Martin Luther King Jr. preach? To watch the Lombardi Packers at Lambeau? Or see the Beatles live? We may have legends in our own time, sure. But they don’t reach that stature until they’re already gone, before they become whiffs of nostalgia.

If only the people of first century Palestine could appreciate the absolutely legendary individuals who walked among them! John the Baptist, who Jesus himself calls the greatest of men. A man who lived an absolutely angelic life in the wilderness. He devoted himself to prayer, to fasting, to preaching the word of the Lord. He managed to subsist on nothing but locusts and wild honey. He wore nothing more than camel’s hair. He preached powerful hellfire and brimstone and many came to hear him speak.

And there was also Jesus. A man who could cast out demons, cure the sick, raise the dead. A man who confounded pharisees and scribes. Who comforted the downtrodden, the tax collector, and sinner. Who proclaimed the good news of the Kingdom of God.

Yet we hear this morning from Jesus himself neither of them were appreciated in their time. “For John came neither eating nor drinking,” Jesus says, "and they say, 'He has a demon.’” John was a little too strict, a little too otherworldly. People swarmed to hear him speak, but he was also a subject of gossip. No man could live that way, we might imagine them saying. He must be possessed. We know Herod Antipas himself feared him, he had him arrested because he told Herod not to marry his brother’s wife. But he kept him around because, entranced by his weirdness, he liked to listen to him. But he didn’t want to follow him.

Jesus, too, we learn became a subject of mockery and opposition. “the Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, 'Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!’” No one knows what they want! If John is too strict and otherworldly, Jesus is too debauched. Where John fasts, Jesus does not fast. Where John stays in the wilderness, Jesus finds his home among tax collectors and sinners. That is to say, among the wrong sort of people. The sort of people who run afoul of the Law, the sort of people who are not like us upstanding citizens with all the right opinions.

God blessed that generation with two of the greatest men of all time. And both were rejected for two opposite reasons. “Yet,” Jesus says, “Yet wisdom is vindicated by her deeds.”

Everyone seeks wisdom. Wisdom is the sort of knowledge that leads to good and right action. We all want wisdom because we all want to live well. We want to be happy. We want to do good for ourselves and others. And because we are made free wisdom doesn’t come to us by instinct. We need to learn wisdom. Unlike many things we learn in life, how to read, how to do math, the history of our nation, wisdom cannot be taught in a classroom or by a text book. Wisdom can be hard to find. We can easily be led astray. We can be given bad directions and go down the wrong roads. And yet we only have one life to live, only a lifetime to learn wisdom and make use of it for ourselves, our families, our communities, and our world.

What makes John and Jesus so unpalatable is the wisdom they present is peculiar and counterintuitive. It is peculiar and counterintuitive because it is not human wisdom, but God’s wisdom. Jesus says, “All things have been handed over to me by my Father; and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.” This is the wisdom hidden from the intelligent and wise. This is the wisdom that is so off-putting at times, and difficult to understand. That wisdom is Jesus himself.

"Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” The Bible speaks of the Covenant as a yoke Jews put on themselves. Jesus, too, begs us to put on a yoke. To put on his yoke. To learn his wisdom. To bear his burden. To follow him in his suffering, in his meekness, in his forgiveness, in his peacefulness. To know his wisdom. A wisdom vindicated by his resurrection, and his deeds of power.

The wisdom of Christ makes no sense in the world as it is. The meek do not inherit this earth. Peacemakers are not always appreciated in their time. Those who weep do not always laugh. Sometimes things do not turn out alright in the end. But Jesus came proclaiming a Kingdom. A Kingdom where he is Lord. A Kingdom where the world is turned upside down. And when we see things in light of this Kingdom, and we discipline ourselves to see the rule of God in our midst, the wisdom of Christ comes into focus. And we understand, truly, how it is that the way of the cross leads to life and peace.

The next few Sundays we will be focusing on different parables and teachings Jesus gives about the Kingdom of God. And we will see how when we understand the Kingdom we understand the wisdom of Christ. We will see how the yoke of Christ’s wisdom, when we put it upon ourselves, proves to be less burdensome than we might imagine. Instead, we find, it is easier than the so called wisdom of the world. It lighter that the demands of this world. Because the wisdom Christ is, alone, leads to eternal life.

Justified: Gotta Serve Somebody

Justified: Gotta Serve Somebody

God Gives Life

Romans 6:12-23

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. July 2nd, 2023

One of the best things about moving to the Thumb is the lack of mosquitos. I don’t know if it’s because there’s less standing water, or if the wind blows them all away but I can sit out in my backyard without a care in the world. When I was in the UP the parsonage was, unfortunately, behind a swamp where the local pond emptied out into. The wind blew the mosquitos out of the swamp and into my backyard. They would swarm like gnats if I sat out there for too long. And there’s only so much bug spray can do for you.

My body would get eaten up by the mosquitos and black flies each summer, no matter how much I did to stay away. And I knew what I’m supposed to do with mosquito bites. You’re supposed to ignore them and the itching goes away. Or, if it’s really bad, you can put camomile lotion on the bite. What you’re absolutely not supposed to do, however, is scratch. The more you scratch the more the bite itches. The more the bite itches, the more you scratch. And it becomes a vicious cycle until finally you scratch too hard and begin to bleed. Though, hopefully, once it gets that far it stops itching.

I know better, but I do it anyway. Isn’t that the condition of Sin? When Paul talks about Sin he means more than acts we commit. We can distinguish between sin with a little s and Sin with a capital S. With a little s we mean discrete acts. A lie we tell, the act of theft, or what have you. But we do not commit little s sins simply because we want to. We commit little s sins because of the power of capital S Sin. Sin with a capital S is a slavedriver. A bad boss. A furious foreman. Sin with the capital S commandeers us. Uses our members as its weapons. Forces us to do what we would prefer not to do. Takes the things we do and twists them to hurt ourselves and others.

I used the example of scratching an itch for relief even though I know scratching that itch comes with consequences. But there are other itches Sin commands us to scratch. The little s sins. We know we shouldn’t tell tales but we do it anyway. We know we shouldn’t lust but we lust anyway. We know we shouldn’t be vengeful but we are vengeful anyway. We know we shouldn’t be envious but we show envy anyway. This is all evidence of being held captive by a power stronger than we are. Paul diagnoses that power as Sin, in league with another power called Death.

We might like to imagine that we are free when we engage in sin. That obedience to God is what’s constraining our wills. When we sin we do what we really want. The fun stuff. When we are holy we are doing what we don’t want. Eating our vegetables. But that is not the picture Paul gives us this morning. The picture we are given is of two Lords. Sin and God. And we gotta serve somebody.

Paul writes, “For just as you once presented your members as slaves to impurity and to greater and greater iniquity, so now present your members as slaves to righteousness for sanctification.” There are two ways. We can serve Sin, we can serve the Lord. But we will never serve ourselves. Sin claims we are free, but we actually grow sin addicted. We find ourselves bound by the things that hurt and harm. God tells us to be obedient, but what we come to find in obedience is life and happiness.

For as Paul famously says, “For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Sin is the taskmaster that makes us earn death. But God doesn’t ask us to earn anything. God doesn’t require our work. God only asks for our faith. God accepts the ungodly. God forgives the sinner. And God gives to us his life.

It goes without saying that everyone is looking for happiness. Sin promises happiness, but all we are doing is scratching an itch so hard we open a wound. God promises happiness as well. It is happiness founded in obedience. It is happiness given as a matter of grace. God promises happiness to all who have faith, to all who cling to Christ and the work he has done. And God’s promises are always fulfilled.

Justified: No Dominion

Justified: No Dominion

God Brings Us From the Sphere of Death to Life

Romans 6:1b-11

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. June 25th, 2023

Paul’s teaching on justification is radical. He says that God regards as righteous not those who follow the Mosaic Law, but those who have faith in Jesus Christ. We are not regarded as in the right by God because we have remained faithful to the covenant given to the patriarchs and Moses, but because God has done a new thing in Jesus outside of that covenant. By the death and resurrection of Jesus, by his blood and by his life, we may know salvation.

What makes this so radical is that it takes the work of salvation out of our hands. We do not stay in grace by doing the “works of the Law.” We stay in grace by clinging in faith to Jesus. Salvation is not a matter of what we do. Salvation is a matter of what God has done. This is what Paul means to emphasize.

But Paul’s emphasis on the priority of God’s action in our salvation can lead to misinterpretation. John Wesley, one of the founders of Methodism, was very worried about how Paul’s teaching on justification might be misinterpreted. He worried that people might hear that we are justified by faith alone and think good and evil do not matter. That it doesn’t matter what you do at all. You can lie, cheat, and steal and none of that has any effect on your salvation. This is what is called antinomianism. The idea that morality doesn’t matter, good and evil doesn’t matter, rules don’t matter. If that’s what Paul is getting at it certainly puts him at odds with the rest of scripture!

But in our reading this morning Paul wants to take this misinterpretation of his teaching head on. He asks, rhetorically, “Should we continue in sin in order that grace may abound?” That is, if as I said last week God justifies the ungodly. And if it is precisely the ungodly who are justified and no one else. Shouldn’t we keep on in sin so that we receive grace upon grace? If God is this cosmic mark handing out grace to everyone who comes begging, shouldn’t we just remain in sin and keep getting the handouts?

Paul’s response is emphatic, “by no means!” But his reasoning is interesting, “How can we who died to sin go on living in it?”

Some people misunderstand justification by putting it in isolation from the rest of the Christian life and thinking that it is simply a matter of God’s declaration and nothing more. That God looks on us miserable sinners and says “you’re a saint.” Like I might look at a pomeranian and say “that’s a wolf” or a box turtle and say “that’s a dragon.” In other words, God is lying or pretending. You see this sometimes with people who think of salvation in terms of being “once saved always saved.” They can tell you the day, hour, or minute they accepted Jesus Christ as savior and Lord. They said the prayer. They gave their life over. But then turned around and lived about the same way as they did before. But they said the prayer! They’re reckoned as righteous in the sight of God!

Paul says that we can’t do that because we who have died to sin can’t go on living in it. Justification is not simply a matter of having our sins forgiven. It is not simply a matter of God regarding us as righteous even though we aren’t. It is a matter of being incorporated into the divine life. Of being regarded as children of God. That means being taken out of one sphere into another. We are ripped out of the domain of death, and we are brought into the Kingdom of God. And this is done through our incorporation into Jesus’ death so we may know his resurrection.

“Do you not know,” Paul writes, “that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death?” Baptism literally means “immersion” or “dipping.” The earliest baptisms were all done by dipping people under water and bringing them back up. The symbol is not that of being cleansed, but of being killed. Of plunging your old self under the waters so you can be raised as the new self. In fact, the earliest baptismal liturgies we have that are intact include rites where the baptisands strip naked, are oiled up like gladiators, descend into the waters, rise, and are clothed with white linens. It signifies that they died and were born again. Took off the old self and put on Christ.

How can we turn to the old ways when our old self has died? How can we continue in Sin when God has plucked us out of death’s domain? For whoever has died is freed from sin.” Paul writes, “But if we have died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him.  We know that Christ, being raised from the dead, will never die again; death no longer has dominion over him.”

This world is dominated by three spiritual powers. Flesh, Sin, and Death. The Flesh is the evil inclination within us. Sin is the cosmic force that enlivens the flesh so that we do not do what we want to do, but do instead what we don’t want to do. And Death is where all this leads. The destruction of creation, the destruction of our lives. But in the fullness of time God sent his son, Jesus, to deliver us from the Flesh, Sin, and Death. To beat the devil. And restore the divine life within us, to deliver us to the Kingdom of God. When we are justified, that is begun in our lives.

Justification is the moment when we are drawn out of the world of Death and brought into the Kingdom of God. It takes time to grow in the love of God, to overcome the power of the Flesh within us. We call that Sanctification. It is also a work of God in our lives. But that’s for another time. The important thing here is that justification is God’s mighty act of deliverance. That we may die in Christ, so we might die no more.