Universal Grace: Deed

Universal Grace: Deed

Preach the Gospel at All Times

Matthew 5:13-20

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. Feb. 8th, 2026

God’s grace is open to all. And God wishes to make use of this his Church to share the message of that grace to the world. Through the preaching of the gospel, through the celebration of the sacraments, through our prayers and fellowship, we make the love of God tangible and known to a world that needs to hear it. This is the adventure God has called us to in our baptisms, it is the mission we are honored to join. We not only grow in love with God, but we are called to grow in love with our neighbors. And the two are enjoined.

So far in this series I have focused on the universality of God’s grace as well as the importance of sharing the proclamation of his grace. That is to say, the gospel. But there is a famous, though falsely attributed, line you may have wanted to quote to me the past month. As St. Francis of Assisi is supposed to have said, “preach the gospel at all times, and when necessary use words.” Now, this is an odd line to put in the mouth of St. Francis. He is the one who famously preached to the birds after all. He didn’t do so mimicking bird songs or waving his arms. He did so using words. The story goes that he was traveling when the realization came upon him that he had restricted his preaching of the gospel to other humans and had neglected the creation. So he immediately went off the path and told the birds, “brother bird, Jesus loves you!”

But on the other hand, could the line be put in the mouth of anyone but St. Francis? He is the one who gave up everything to follow Jesus. Who cared for the lepers because in the Gospel Jesus cares for the lepers. Who begged for the poor because in the gospel Jesus served the poor. Who had no place to lay his head because Jesus said he had no place to lay his head. And, finally, had so united himself to Jesus in his life that he is said to have taken on the very wounds of Christ, the stigmata, at the end of his life. He certainly made his life a living proclamation of the gospel, word or no word.

And so it should be for us. Let us preach the gospel at all times not just in word but in deed. Let us make our lives a living proclamation. Make our lives such that who we are makes no sense unless we have hope in Christ. Let us, through our lives, show the difference Christ makes to the world.

Is this not what Jesus is commanding us to do this morning in our reading from the Sermon on the Mount? He says first, “You are the salt of the earth, but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything but is thrown out and trampled under foot.” Salt works both as a preservative and a source of flavor. It makes a difference where it is applied. But if the salt is gone and you have nothing more than rocks in your hands, what’s the use? Jesus tells his disciples that they are to be life-giving. And if we are not a source of life and joy to the world, why not throw us out?

He says as well, “You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. People do not light a lamp put it under the bushel basket; rather they put it on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.” We reveal to the world who they are and who God is. We reveal that there is a better life than the one of constant doomscrolling and consumption. But there is a way that leads to happiness and life. We show this not just in our words but in our deeds. In who we are. In the lives we choose to lead. It is our good works that shine, Jesus says, and leads others to give glory to God.

Jesus calls all of us to be salt and light. He calls all of us to be sources of life and illumination for the world. To give zest to the world. To show forth his love and mercy to the world. To proclaim the gospel by word and by deed.

Now, you might say, that all sounds well and good. Certainly we don’t want to turn people away by being miserable people. We don’t want to cause scandal to Christ by committing serious sin. But what does such a life look like? In what does it consist? What am I actually telling us to do?

I’ll give two answers.

The first is found in our Old Testament reading from Isaiah. Isaiah is taking the rulers of Judah to task for taking on fasts and publicly worshipping God while doing the things God hates. Oppressing the poor and the needy. So what is it that Isaiah calls them to do instead? “Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the straps of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them and not to hide yourself from your own kin? … if you offer your food to the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, then your light shall rise in the darkness and your gloom be like the noonday.” That is all to say, to care for those in need at a personal cost. To provide for ones necessities when they need it, to show hospitality to those who need hospitality, to be a human face in a world where you’re more likely to talk to a chatbot. It is far easier to pass the buck. But we are not called to do that. We are called to serve when we can, when opportunity arrises.

But secondly I’ll say you already know what I’m talking about. So often preaching is stating the obvious we would rather avoid. You know what I’m talking about because saints have walked among us. You have known your lives touched, and you know what it takes to touch a life. You have known the support you have received in hard times, and how to share that support to others. It is this costly love, this personal warmth, this sharing of ourselves that is the true salt and life. It is the way we imitate Christ for others. It is the way we preach not just by word, but by deed.

Universal Grace: Power

Universal Grace: Power

The Gospel is Power

Matthew 4:12-23

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. Jan. 25th, 2026

There’s a story about a french priest by the name of John Vianney that I can’t source. I heard it back in seminary and it stuck with me. Among the Catholics John Vianney is regarded as the patron saint of priests and is also known as the Curé de Ars. As the story goes he was a pious man who struggled greatly with his priestly studies because he was no good at latin. But after much trial he was finally ordained and sent to a small village in rural France. His sermons were short, simple, and plain, his personality unassuming, there was nothing outwardly remarkable about the man. But he became known as a great confessor. Soon people were taking the train to get out to Ars to confess their sins to John Vianney. And, as happens around figures like this, miracles began to take place.

The story is that John Vianney was called in to perform an exorcism. When the demon saw the Curé de Ars the wretched thing screeched at him in fear and anger. Now, as a general rule one shouldn’t take the statements of a demon to heart. They are led by the father of lies after all. But this one said, “We despise you. When you preach, you do so in such simplicity. Why can’t you be like the preachers in the city with their erudition and rhetoric, that we can work with!”

Certainly, God can work with erudition as well. But this story falls in line with what we hear from Paul this morning. He writes, “For Christ did not send me to baptize but to proclaim the gospel--and not with eloquent wisdom, so that the cross of Christ might not be emptied of its power. For the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.”

It seems one of the problems plaguing the Church in Corinth was there were teachers who made use of their eloquent wisdom to win over others. They formed their own cliques within the church, and soon people were talking about belonging to this or that other teacher and not about their unity in Christ. Paul says he does none of that. He speaks without eloquence. He speaks plainly, and simply. He can do so because the power of the gospel is not found in his own fleshly eloquence, or his own human wisdom. The power of the Gospel is Christ and him crucified. While it may seem foolish, the gospel itself is power.

We may find it easy to be discouraged. More and more Americans don’t see the point in coming to church. More and more the foundational stories of the Bible are forgotten or ignored. Our hair grows thinner and there are more seats in the pews than there were before. The church has faced such trials before, and will perhaps face them again. Before the American Revolution church attendance was poor in most of the colonies. Before WWI in America there was a large worry over demographic shifts in the Church and the young people no longer attending.

Sometimes this discouragement means we lose trust in the power inherent in the gospel. Before WWI many churches introduced counseling services and built community centers because they felt people needed something tangible before they could receive something spiritual. In the 70’s there was a boom in church growth methods that used marketing tools and slick services to reach what turned out to largely be christians from other churches. In nations like Spain and Portugal the Church tightly integrated itself into the government so to be Spanish or Portuguese simply meant to be Catholic. But that experience has not led to lasting piety in those nations.

I remember when I was interning in North Carolina we took our youth group to a day camp where they had a water slide, zip lines, hot dogs, and rap music. And when it was all done the head of the day camp got all the kids together and said, “now we had fun here, but we know that’s not what this was really about…” and told them about Jesus and how to say the sinners prayer so they could be baptized. And I remember thinking how strange that was. Does God really need zip lines and hot dogs to claim his own?

But too often we lose confidence in the power of the gospel and think we need to add zip lines and hot dogs if we are going to see any success.

I suppose eloquence and zip lines and hot dogs and rap music can all have their place. I’m not entirely opposed to those things. Kids should have fun in church. The music should be enjoyable. And we should care for the physical and tangible needs of those in our community. But that’s not the engine of the Church. That is not what gives her her power. It is the power inherent in the gospel. And we should not lose confidence in that.

The message of Christ crucified is power. The knowledge of God’s love is power. The experience of God’s forgiveness and mercy is power. The hope that God alone can give is power. And when Jesus calls us, there is power.

This morning we also hear how Jesus calls Andrew and Simon and James and John as they are working their nets. He doesn’t need to hand them a hot dog or give them an eloquent speech. He simply says, “follow me.” And what can they do otherwise? In the gospel we may hear those words, “follow me.” This is my love for you, follow me. This is eternal life, follow me.

Let us have confidence that the gospel has not been robbed of its power. That the gospel is our true engine. That the gospel alone is our hope.

Universal Grace: Witness

Universal Grace: Witness

The More We Share the More Our Love Deepens

John 1:29-42

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. Jan. 18th, 2026

Have you ever known the pleasure of introducing a friend to a new song, or movie, or TV show, that you are certain they’ll love but had never seen before? One of my friends was a big X-Files fan and loves that sort of paranormal, conspiracy stuff. Not because he believes all the conspiracies and whatnot, but because he thinks it’s a good yarn and is fascinated by the personalities that inhabit the space. Some are buffoonish, some are outright conmen, some are endearingly sincere and naive. So I had asked him if he ever saw Twin Peaks. To my astonishment he hadn’t. How can you love conspiracies and the esoteric and never see Twin Peaks? Well I insisted he absolutely had to watch. And he, of course, was hooked from the first episode like so many were when it was on ABC. And I was glad to have someone to talk to about Twin Peaks.

We want to share these things because, first, we want someone to know the joy we have received from watching or listening. But also, importantly, we want to be able to talk to someone about those things, right? In sharing a movie or song we don’t diminish our love or enjoyment for that movie or song. It is, in fact, deepened. It is deepened because we enjoy it with others, which is better than enjoying it alone.

This morning we once again meet up with John the Baptist. But this isn’t the hellfire and brimstone John from Advent. He is not a voice crying out in the wilderness calling people to repentance. He is not hurling insults at the powers that be or threatening that the axe is laid at the root of the tree of Israel. This time John is bearing witness to the one who is to come. The one who has arrived. The one who is the very presence of the Kingdom he had come to proclaim.

When he sees Jesus he cries out, “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!” John explains that he had always proclaimed that one was coming who was greater than him, because he was before him. He explains his ministry was never about himself. John didn’t go into the wilderness to make a name for himself. To talk himself up. Or to stroke his own ego. He went into the wilderness to prepare the way for the one who is to come. To prepare the people for the Messiah. And he had been told the messiah would be the one who has the spirit descend on him and remain. This, John explains, had happened. Jesus had come to be baptized, he baptized him, and the Spirit descended on him like a dove. Proving he is the one who deliver Israel, proving he is the one to bring about the forgiveness of sins.

The next day when he is walking with some of his own disciples he sees Jesus again and says the same thing, “Look! Here is the lamb of God!” And they leave him to follow Jesus.

But John is not upset by this. He will later go on to say, “he must increase, but I must decrease.” This is what his ministry is truly about. Not John, but Jesus. Not his ego, but the Kingdom. If his disciples are to leave him for another, so be it. They are following the lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.

Here, ultimately, is the legacy of John the Baptist. Not that he performed any mighty miracles, not that he left behind some sacred text or secret teaching. But that he points to the lamb of God and tells us to look. There is a famous altarpiece in Germany, I have it on the screen behind me, that powerfully illustrates this. It’s called the Isenheim Altarpiece. On the left it shows people coming to the cross looking for healing. On the right it shows John the Baptist, the triumphant lamb at his feet, pointing to Jesus. We are meant to see in this image John saying, “behold the lamb of God.” That is his ministry, that is what it’s all about, sharing Jesus and enjoying the joy of other’s faith in him.

We, too, as disciples of Christ must be like John the Baptist. The life of faith is not something for us to keep to ourselves. If we truly have joy in Christ, if we truly have peace in our faith, how can we but share that? If my enjoyment of Twin Peaks is such I have to let my friend know about it, what is my enjoyment of my relationship with Jesus? John made his life about pointing to the Lamb of God so others would know what he knew. So should we. The more we share, the deeper our own faith becomes.

Now, some may be saying “that’s not me.” We imagine people leaving tracts in gas station bathrooms or shouting on street corners or cornering strangers in awkward conversations. If that’s what the evangelism of the church was about we wouldn’t get very far. It is more like sharing a movie or a song. Hey, would you like to come to church? Hey, this is important to me can I share it? You don’t know what seeds get planted, you don’t know what God does with such things. But what I do know is that such things are part of our discipleship. That the more we share, the deeper our own love grows.

Universal Grace: Baptism

Universal Grace: Baptism

God is No Respecter of Persons

Acts 10:34-43

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. Jan. 11th, 2026

There was a Roman centurion by the name of Cornelius. He was stationed at Caesarea in the Roman province of Idumea. He was what they called a “God-fearer” back in those days. God-fearers were gentiles who expressed an interest in the Jewish way of life. They renounced the pagan gods and clung as closely to the people of Israel as they could. Cornelius was a particularly devout man. He would give to those in need and regularly spent time in prayer. It happened that at about three in the afternoon he received a vision of an angel. He was told his prayers and alms have been received as a sacrifice to God, and now he was to send his men to Joppa and bring a certain Simon Peter to him. The angel left it to Peter to bring the real good news.

The next day in Joppa, about noon, Peter went to pray on the roof. Ancient near eastern houses often had flat roofs with easy access. People would sit on their roofs to cool off in the breeze. As Peter was praying he, too, received a vision from the Lord. In his vision he saw heaven opened and all sorts of four footed animals and reptiles on a sheet. And then he heard a voice, “Get up, Peter. Kill and eat.”

“Surely not, Lord!” Peter protested. “I have never eaten anything impure or unclean.”

The voice simply said, “Do not call anything impure that God has made clean.”

This happened three times before the sheet was brought back up to heaven and the vision ended. Peter, at first, didn’t know what to make of it. Was he being given permission to eat bacon? But it was at that same moment that Cornelius’ men arrived at the house looking for him. The Spirit told Peter not to fear these men, for they were sent. So Peter followed dutifully, trusting that the Spirit would show him what to say.

Two days later Peter makes his way to Cornelius’. He asks him what is going on. Why would Cornelius summon Peter when Jews do not always associate with gentiles? But Cornelius explains the vision that he had. Which leads Peter to deliver the speech that we just heard in our New Testament reading this morning. “I truly understand that God shows no partiality, but in every people anyone who fears him and practices righteousness is acceptable to him.”

The Jesus who came preaching peace, doing good, and healing. The Jesus who was condemned to death, hanging on a tree. The Jesus who rose again on the third day. This Jesus did all of this for the sake of the world. Not for the sake of a few. The sake of an elect. The sake of one particular people. But for the sake of all. For the sake of Cornelius as well as Peter. When Peter spoke these words the Holy Sprit fell powerfully on that place and people started speaking in tongues. Peter took that as his cue to baptize Cornelius and his family. He was only following what God had already accomplished.

Baptism is the sacrament of our incorporation into Christ. It is the visible and tangible means by which God makes us members of the body of Christ. It is the visible and tangible means by which God makes us one in Christ. Baptism is not to be reserved for the special few. We will even baptize babies. It is the free gift of God that makes us part of God’s mighty work in our midst. Through baptism we are made clean and whole. By baptism we may be born again.

God knows that he made us flesh and bone. That we are material beings who need to see as well as hear. Which is why God choses to hug us in the waters of baptism and through them say the words, “you are my beloved.” When we see baptism in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit we may be reminded of who we truly are.

The world will throw all sorts of identities at us. In the story of Cornelius you have a centurion, an italian, a roman citizen, a gentile. Peter is a fisherman, an itinerant preacher, a Jew, a disciple of Jesus the messiah. Such fleshly identities should keep them apart. But by baptism they are told of a deeper identity. An identity deeper than Jew or greek, slave or free, male or female. An identity that crosses all earthly borders. An identity that knows no language. That is, they are one in Christ. And the water is thicker than blood.

God’s grace, such as the grace given in baptism, does not know our divisions. It’ll show up in places where, perhaps, we least expect it. God is no respecter of persons. Shows no partiality. Plays no favorites. The grace of God is truly universal, truly free. Available to the centurion and fisherman, the pharisee and the tax collector. Anyone. Baptism is given to us that we might see that.

Universal Grace: Epiphany

Universal Grace: Epiphany

There is No In-Group

Matthew 2:1-12

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. Jan. 4th, 2026

This morning we hear about magi from the east bearing gifts of Gold, Frankincense, and Myrrh. These mysterious figures were likely priest-astrologers from the Parthian empire. The Parthians were competitors of and sometimes enemies to Rome. It was a fabulously wealthy empire that controlled the overland route to China known as the Silk Road. So their priests had the security and leisure to spend their time observing the stars and interpreting their meanings. They witness a new star rising in the sky and divine that it indicates a new King born in Judea.
The magi also appear to divine more than what they say, because their gifts are pregnant with meaning. The gold, of course is a wealthy metal fit for a King. But Frankincense and Myrrh are odder gifts that wouldn’t have been terribly useful to a young family of artisans. Both are made from the sap of plants found only in the Arabian peninsula. Burned over charcoal they produced a sweet smelling white cloud. Frankincense, then, was used in the Jerusalem temple. Myrrh, on the other hand, had another use. It was also commonly made into a perfume. Particularly a perfume one might put on a body for its burial.

It seems the Magi knew more than they let on, or perhaps were led to give gifts that indicated more than they knew. Gold for Jesus’ Kingship, frankincense for his priestly sacrifice, myrrh for his atoning death.

The Magi know this even though they do not possess the holy scriptures. A rather amazing act of God’s grace. But those who do possess the scriptures are caught off guard when the Magi come to town. Because even though Jesus had been born over a year earlier word had not made its way to Jerusalem what the angels did that night in the fields. And though they do possess the scriptures, yet the news of a King remains perplexing. And Herod himself, as we learned last week, does his best to frustrate the scriptural prophecy concerning the messiah.

We are witnessing, then, an astonishing reversal. The King of the Jews receiving homage not from his own people but from far away gentiles. God incarnate being recognized not by those who search, study, and live by the scriptures. But recognized by those who look to the stars for their answers and worship a foreign god. And these foreigners, these magi, are full of joy at the sight of the boy. When Jerusalem is afraid, and Herod is filled with paranoia and rage.

This reversal ought to remind us that with God there is no in-group and no out-group. You may recall a few weeks ago we heard John the Baptist tell the pharisees and sadducees they should not put their hope in being children of Abraham because God can raise children of Abraham from stones. No one gets in the in-group when it comes to God. For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosever would believe in him should not perish but have eternal life. His grace is over all his works. God’s love is absolutely universal.

Paul marvels at this mystery in our epistle reading this morning. “The gentiles have become fellow heirs, members of the same body, and sharers in the promise in Christ Jesus through the gospel.” That is to say, the nations have been united to Israel. The promises God made to Israel for their redemption have been extended to all through Christ. And, Paul says, this was always the plan.

God always meant to save the world in this way. Through Israel. Through Jesus. For the Nations.

There is a seeming paradox that runs through the Bible concerning the love of God. And, I suppose, we confront that apparent paradox this morning. It is that on the one hand God chooses some people, but on the other hand his love is shown to be universal. God elects Israel from the nations for his purpose. But that purpose is to bless the nations. God elects David, the apple of his eye, but for the purpose of his universal redemption. And God has elected us, the Church. But not that his grace be limited. Not that we reap the benefits alone. But so that we may share the good news of his love and bless the world.

This is, then, the mission for which we are called. To show the world that God loves them. To point them to the grace that is over all his works. To tell the story of Jesus who died for our sake because he loved us. And how by his blood all our mistakes and wrongdoings are washed away. And as God is indiscriminate in his blessings, so we are called to be indiscriminate in who receives our love. Because God’s grace is not limited. Indeed, it is universal. It calls even the magi from far away to the crib of his son. It calls even us, whatever it is that we have done, to the table by which we receive mercy.

A Miserable Man

A Miserable Man

Christ is the Greatest Gift of All

Matthew 2:13-23

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. Dec. 28th, 2025

Augustine of Hippo, an old bishop and great preacher, once remarked that God is indiscriminate in his blessings, but reserves the greatest blessing to those who love him. God’s generosity is such that he makes the rain to fall on the just and the unjust alike. God gives great wealth, health, and power without condition. Sometimes it may seem unfair to us. But these blessings can become a snare to us as well. They can be a snare unless they are coupled with God’s greatest blessing: himself. His own presence. The indwelling Holy Spirit. That which alone gives us true peace and joy. That which alone helps us to make use of all the other blessings our Lord provides.

Herod the Great is an example of what Augustine means when he points this out about God’s generosity. Herod was born the son of a high ranking official in the court of the King of the Jews. His father was a good friend of a roman general by the name of Julius Caesar. Herod was able to use his connections to rise in power and, eventually, become declared King of the Jews by the Roman Senate. Having vanquished his enemies Herod became a wealthy client king of Rome and spent his fortune on lavish building projects. Among those building projects was a multi decade remodeling of the Temple in Jerusalem.

But Herod is not known to history because of his building projects. He is not known to history for his fabulous wealth. He is not known to history for maintaining the peace in a tempestuous region of the world. Rather, Herod is known to history to being a paranoid and miserable tyrant. And that is exemplified in our reading this morning. The massacre of the innocents.

The visit of a delegation from the east caught all of Jerusalem off guard. They had arrived with gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. They were astrologers from the royal court, and claimed they saw a star rising that indicated the birth of a king in Judea. But Herod was old in age, and he had no recent children. He immediately perceived this delegation as a threat. He had been declared King of the Jews by the Roman Senate, but here these wise men claimed the very stars of heaven had declared a new King. This new King could undo everything he had worked to build.

So he asks his scribes to consult the scriptures. Where is the King of the Jews to be born? When they tell him Bethlehem he sends the wise men on their way, but with the caveat that when they find the King they should tell him. He would like to see the king too.

But the wise men are warned in a dream about his ploy. They don’t come back, but go to their land by another way. Herod, infuriated, orders the murder of every male child under the age of two. Just to be safe. This king of the Jews becomes more like pharaoh of Egypt who also famously ordered the death of the hebrew boys. But Joseph is also warned in a dream and flees to Egypt from the King of Judah.

Matthew hauntingly gives no description of this horrifying event. But instead quotes Jeremiah, “A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be consoled, because they are no more.”

Herod is a man who has received every gift God has to offer under the sun. He is a man of tremendous wealth. He would live a very long life of good health. He was powerful and well regarded by those more powerful than him. He ate far better, slept far better, and lived far better than most anyone in his day. And yet when word came that the messiah was born his response was not to praise God that the end of the ages had come. It was not to rejoice in the salvation by the forgiveness of sins. He didn’t marvel at the gospel of Emmanuel. God with us.

He hears the gospel and decides the boy must die.

And that decision leads to the death of countless others.

All the blessing Herod had known meant nothing because he possessed them without having received the greatest possession: love. Without love all these blessings turned him into a monster. He could not be happy because he was afraid they’d be taken from him. The message of the messiah was not good news for Herod because all it meant was what he might lose. He could not see what he stood to gain.

God gives many gifts. But the greatest of them all he reserves to those who love him and those he loves. And that is himself. His presence that cannot be withheld. His forgiveness that cannot be revoked. This gift alone makes all the other gifts truly gifts. And it is this gift that we come to remember this Christmas season. The gift of God with us.

Wrapped in Bands of Cloth and Lying in a Manger

Wrapped in Bands of Cloth and Lying in a Manger

The Ordinary Made Extraordinary

Luke 2:1-20

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. Dec. 24th, 2025

There were shepherds out in the fields keeping watch over their flock on that cold Christmas Eve. But for them that night was not much different than any other night. It was cold. It was tiresome. It was long. They were left with little to do but chew the fat and keep watch. They were in the inevitable position of trying to stay awake by counting sheep. But this was the life they had signed up for. Most of their life was spent sitting, watching, walking along. They lived their lives letting the world pass on by.

Perhaps we’ve felt as listless as a shepherd. Every day seems like any other day. We feel we are without purpose or direction. We feel the world passing us by.

But this night would not be like any other night. This night would never happen again. It was on this night that the firmament tore open and heaven met earth. It was on this night, in this region, that the shepherds looked overhead as the night became as day and the whole heavenly army appeared before them. The glory of the Lord shone around them. They were, needless to say, terrified. They were gazing at things only Abraham, Jacob, Moses, Isaiah, had any inkling of.

And yet it was to these ordinary shepherds going about their ordinary and monotonous work that God had chosen to deliver the extraordinary good news. “Do not be afraid, for see, I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.” The messiah. The one who is to deliver Israel from their captivity and bondage. The King of the Jews who will bring about the new golden age. But in the angel’s message I detect that even more is said even if it was not understood. This is not just messiah, but this is “the messiah, the Lord.” The eternal is born. The King of Kings. The creator of the universe. God is with us.

The angel then offers them a sign, so they may know where to find this child. “This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” I want to pause here. How odd.

The one before whom all Kings will bow. The one who touches the mountains and they smoke. The one who makes the hills to skip like rams. The one who makes the whirlwind his chariot. This one. The almighty. The Lord. Is to be found as a child? A tiny infant? Wrapped in swaddling cloths? The one who the world cannot contain is to be contained in the arms of his mother? The one who stretched out the sky like a curtain is to be wrapped up in bands of cloth?

But more than that, even stranger, this child is to be found in a feeding trough? In a manger?

And yet we had already heard how this could be. Caesar Augustus had declared a registration, requiring Mary and Joseph to make their way to Bethlehem. When they got there they had no place to lay their head. All that was available was a single stable. And when Mary, great with child, gave birth, all that was available for a crib was a feeding trough.

The King of Kings would not be born in a fine house or in a glorious city. The King of Kings would be found in a smelly stable. Likely a cave in those days. The trough likely made of stone or mud and placed along the wall. The stable would have been one of many in the city of David.

When the angels had finished singing their song, “glory to God in the highest and on earth peace among those on who his favor rests,” they had departed. And that moment ended as quickly as it began. The night sky was knit back together and the stars twinkled and danced as they always did. Having heard the news from the angels the Shepherds were full of joy and resolved to find the child they were told was the messiah.

Imagine the sight, then, when the shepherds make their way out of the fields with a train of sheep. It is late so there is no one out and about. There’s no nightlife in the city of David. But perhaps if someone were having trouble sleeping they would have seen the shepherds and their sheep walking down the streets and byways of the little town of Bethlehem. As they do they peer into every stable, every nook and cranny. They spy every feeding trough. Looking for the sign that had been promised. The child, wrapped in bands of cloth, and lying in a manger.

Those who seek find. And to those who knock the door will be open to them. And so after diligently searching the town this strange band finally finds what they are looking for. All of us can imagine the moment. But perhaps we over sentimentalize what it is the shepherds saw. There, among the hay and the grain, surrounded by mud and manure, was the child in a trough being watched and cared for by two overworked and stressed out parents. There was no halo. There was no angel on the roof. There were no wise men bearing gifts or drummers. There was the child, like any other child, different only by the unfortunate circumstance of his birth.

And they worshiped him.

This evening let us remember the story of the shepherds. Let us remember their world turned upside down that led them to turn a town upside down looking for a seemingly ordinary child. Let us remember the monotonous night that became extraordinary. Let us remember the miracle of the birth that would have escaped any uninformed observer.

God has not abandoned us. As God acted two millennia ago so God acts now. But it would be like with those shepherds. A message, an insight, shines through the darkness of our ordinary lives leading us to see the world in a new way. That we might find ourselves among the dirty stables of the world and see hope.

We are the people who put our hope in this child. Who would later go on to become a great teacher, and healer, and prophet. Who would be put to death by the authorities. Who would not let death have the final say but would rise from the dead. Who lives now forevermore. And may still be seen by those who have the eyes to see him.

Prepare the Way: Story

Prepare the Way: Story

The Story of the Bible is Our Story

Matthew 1:18-25

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. Dec. 21st, 2025

When I was on the Isle of Man this summer I stayed in Douglas, the capital city. Above Douglas Harbor is a bluff called Douglas Head. It’s a beautiful view of Douglas and the ocean. If you’re lucky you can catch sight of the Dolphins playing in the water. I wasn’t so lucky. Maybe I didn’t have the patience to wait long enough. But Douglas Head also has a small park and a number of monuments. Among them was a monument dedicated to the “gallant manxmen” who served at Trafalgar under Admiral Nelson. The Battle of Trafalgar was a naval battle between the British and napoleon’s forces. Though outmanned and outgunned Nelson’s forces defeated the french and Spanish and secured Britain’s naval supremacy. On the back of the monument was a list of the names of the Manxmen who fought in that battle. And I was surprised to see among the names a certain William Callow.

Now, Callow is not an uncommon name on the Isle of Man. But there also aren’t a lot of manxmen around. So I had to look him up to see if there was any possibility I had a cousin at the Battle of Trafalgar. But, as it turns out, William Callow came from the parish north of my family. Any meaningful relation is unlikely. I figured that had to be the case. Given my family’s interest in genealogy there is no way I could have grown up not knowing I had a cousin at the Battle of Trafalgar. Those are the sorts of things a family brags about for generations. Like those families in our own country who are lucky enough to have ancestors who fought in the Revolutionary War, or in the Civil War. You never hear the end of it at family gatherings.

I can’t imagine it would have been much different for Joseph’s family. We are told Joseph was from the line of David. When the angel of the Lord addresses him in his dream he is addressed as “Joseph, Son of David.” I’m sure if you went to a family reunion in Bethlehem (when things weren’t busy due to a census) you’d hear all about how they are from the royal line. And Joseph would have grown up knowing that he is royalty.

But Joseph did not lead a royal life. No, that was reserved for Herod’s kids. Joseph was a “teknon” which means he was some sort of skilled craftsman. Traditionally we have called him a carpenter. He worked with his hands and made a living working with his hands. He was likely involved in the many building projects around Nazareth. Building projects funded by Herod and other wealthy people.

But as he worked on whatever project he could get paid for he would have known who he really is. A member of David’s ancestral house. Israel’s great King. The one who received the promise from God that there would always be a king sitting on his throne. The one who slew Goliath when all of Israel quaked in fear. The one who built a great and mighty nation.

And he would have known about the other mighty kings of his line and how God had worked through them to maintain covenant faithfulness. He would have known about the wise Solomon whose fame spread so far and wide that the Queen of Sheba arrived to test him and was amazed at his wisdom. He would have known about the great King Josiah who restored the Law of God and was treated with great favor. He would have known about King Hezekiah who turned to God alone in the face of Assyrian invasion, and God turned the invaders away.

He would have known about the Exile of his people, his ancestors treated as trinkets in the court of Nebuchadnezzar. But he also would have known about God’s faithfulness to restore his family to their ancestral lands.

But perhaps the one thing he would have doubted is whether God was still so active in his own day. If there were another David or Solomon among his people. If the great deeds done in days of old could happen in his time. When he ate the Passover Sedar, would he have been so certain that the God who delivered his people then would deliver them now?

He would have grown up soaked in the stories of his people. Soaked in the stories of his own descendants, his own heritage. But did that mean that he was an extension of that same story? Could the story come alive among the hewn stones and cut lumber?

This morning Joseph’s story joins the story of his people as he learns that his wife-to-be is pregnant. He resolves, then, to divorce her quietly. We are told this is because he’s a righteous man and unwilling to expose Mary to public disgrace. But that night in his dream he receives a message from the angel of the Lord, “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.”

This pregnancy, he is told, is not an ordinary pregnancy. But it is a conception by the Holy Spirit. This child, is no ordinary child, but the one who is to save Israel from her sins. That name, Jesus, comes from the hebrew Yeshua. But we have another way of rendering Yeshua in english: Joshua. As in, Joshua son of Nun. The successor to Moses who conquers the promised land by the power of God. This is who the one in Mary’s womb is to be, a second Joshua. But a more perfect Joshua because he is the very incarnation, the very presence, the very person of God.

And the story continues on.

Joseph accepts the message of the angel. He accepts that he is part of the story that begins in Abraham and continues through Moses and David. The one who grew up in the house of David discovers to his astonishment that the God who called his ancestor calls him as well. The story is true. And it continues. And he belongs to it as a character of tremendous faith.

The story continues on. It is our story. We are children of Abraham. We are descendants of David through Christ. We are those our brother Jesus has called. And we are those our Lord Christ has sent out. When we meet again on Wednesday night it will be to tell the story of his first coming. In anticipation of his second coming. And to remember the story we tell is true. Not a fable. Not something we put on screens to entertain ourselves. But the story we find ourselves in, of which we are characters. Like Joseph who in his own way came to say, “yes.”

Prepare the Way: Joy

Prepare the Way: Joy

God Gives Us Joy

Matthew 11:2-11

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. Dec. 14th, 2025

If your goal is to win friends and influence people, being a prophet is not the best career path. John was a prophet’s prophet, a serious man full of vigor and the word of the Lord. He burned with such fire that people came from miles around to watch him burn with the vengeance of God. Even Herod Antipas, the King of Galilee, was interested in the guy. Surely not because he was convicted, but because he liked to hear the things John said. Like he was some actor, or some stage artist. But one day John went “too far.” He targeted his barbed words at Herod and said it was unlawful for him to marry his brother’s wife. This went too far because now John was getting involved in politics. So Herodias, the wife of Herod (formally of his brother Philip) urged that John be put away. And he was. He was put in prison.

While John is in prison he begins to doubt. Perhaps, he thought, this is not how things are supposed to go. Or, perhaps, he was confounded by the reports he heard about Jesus. Recall John claimed the one who was to come after him would baptize the world in fire. But Jesus was dining with the very people John called a brood of vipers. Where John ate only locusts and wild honey, word got around that Jesus never stopped eating and drinking. Where John never left the wilderness until his arrest, Jesus could be found in the towns among the well to do as well as the outcast. It is possible, this is only speculation, that he was wondering whether Jesus really was the messiah because he was not doing the things John though the messiah should be doing. Where is the judgment? Where is the terrible recompense? Where is the vengeance of God? If messiah has come, why is John in chains?

So John sends some of his disciples to Jesus looking for an explanation. They ask, “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” Are you the one who is to deliver Israel from occupation? Are you the one who is going to fulfill all the promises of God? Are you the one who will end the last remnants of our exile? Or are you just another rabbi, just another teacher?

Jesus answers not with a “yes” or a “no” but by telling John’s disciples what has taken place. “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, those with a skin disease are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.” You may have noticed that in responding to John Jesus is making use of our old testament reading from Isaiah this morning. “Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf shall be opened; then the lame shall leap like a deer, and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy. For waters shall break forth in the wilderness and streams in the desert; the burning sand shall become a pool and the thirsty ground springs of water; the haunt of jackals shall become a swamp; the grass shall become reeds and rushes.”

Jesus must be the messiah because he is doing the things Isaiah says messiah will do. He is the agent of God’s healing. He is the agent of God’s love for the poor. He brings the good news of the Kingdom of God. And those who are not offended by his works know the blessing of God.

In other words, Jesus is the messiah because the presence of Jesus is the presence of healing and joy. Where the Kingdom of God is present, how can it be otherwise?

I realize the past two weeks may have come across as a little dour. All this talk about repentance, judgment, sin, the end of the world, not being lulled to sleep by our ordinary lives, what am I doing? Isn’t the sanctuary all dressed up in green? Haven’t we covered this space in candles and lights? Isn’t this the “most wonderful time of the year?” Why, Linus has recited Luke 2 far before I have.

But this scripture reminds us of what is truly coming, and yet already here. It reminds us of what we are waiting for, and what we can know now. Jesus comes bringing healing, reconciliation, and good news. Those who know him know joy. True joy. Not some manufactured feeling of happiness. Not some nostalgia or sentimentality. But the ecstatic happiness that is called out of us by the presence of God and his blessings.

Today we lit the candle of joy on the advent wreath. That is to remind us what we are waiting for, and what God gives us. That the holiness God calls us to is nothing more than our own happiness. And that the happiness of God can break through even in the midst of our own drudgery, our ordinary lives, or our sleepiness. It can break through even when we are tired. It can break through even when we are afraid. Because it is not our own concoction, but the presence of the Holy Spirit among us.

The joy we feel is confirmation of that presence. Confirmation that he who has come is still coming. That God is at hand. That our redemption is near.

Prepare the Way: Repent

Prepare the Way: Repent

Seeing Clearly

Matthew 3:1-12

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. Dec. 7th, 2025

It is “in those days,” we are told, when John the Baptist first appeared in the wilderness. It was in those days when the world was at relative peace. It was in those days when the Temple was functioning in all its beauty, and sacrifices were offered up to God. It was in those days when there were good harvests. It was in those days where there were a lot of building projects, new cities rising up on the shores of the sea. It was in those days where people ate and drank, where they were married and given in marriage. When people laughed and cried. When fishermen would wash their nets in the early morning and kids would run with dogs through the streets. It was in those good ol’ days, which were days just like any other, when John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness.

John didn’t walk through the streets. He couldn’t be found in the towns or the cities. He remained in the wilderness. Instead, people from the towns and the cities would stream into the wilderness to see him. He was a severe and wild man. He did not eat loaves and fish. He did not drink wine. Instead he subsisted on desert locusts and wild honey. And he did not wear linen, or animal skins. He wove together attire made from camel’s hair. A rough fiber that irritated the skin, but covered what it needed to cover.

When they streamed out to meet this man they didn’t find some hippy shouting about peace and love. Instead they found a voice crying out in the wilderness, a self-conscious prophet declaring, “Repent! For the Kingdom of Heaven has come near!”

And when he made this declaration he considered no one exempt. He didn’t say only the tax collectors need to repent. Or only the great sinners need to repent. Everyone needed to repent. Everyone needed to change their ways, reset their minds, fix their hearts. In fact, when some Sadducees and Pharisees arrived his response was not to say, “oh thank heavens some good people.” But he increased his vitriol, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath?”

Abraham Heschel was a Jewish rabbi and he wrote a book on prophets. He said that a prophet is someone who can see through God’s eyes. For many of us our spiritual senses are dulled by sin. And a consequence of sin is resignation. We simply come to accept that powerful people are corrupt. We simply accept that some people take advantage of others. We simply accept lying. We simply accept hypocrisy. I mean, at least some people have the standards and values to be hypocrites. And on and on. Sin greases the wheels of the world and makes it go round. And if we were to be indignant at each and every slight, each and every injustice, every instance of wrong doing, we’d be exhausted or we’d be mad or both.

But the prophets are graced with sight as God sees. So they are indignant at all the injustices of the world. They do repudiate sin. They are enraged, they are sarcastic, they are horrified, and they despair. Because they see at a greater intensity that we allow ourselves to see. And God grants them his word. Whether that be a word of judgment, or reconciliation. Whether that be a word of insult, or consolation. God entrusts that word to those who are given the eyes that see and the ears that hear.

John the Baptist is one such prophet. Which is why he can say, “Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; therefore every tree that does not bear good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire.” Because he sees something that the pharisees and the sadducees cannot see.

Certainly the pharisees were not the sort of people to make their peace with sin. But they did think they had a good handle on it. They took great care to put what they called a “hedge around the Law” to ensure the Law was followed. Jesus called it human tradition, they likely considered it more a precaution. The Sadducees had made their peace with Rome, but that only allowed them to continue the Temple sacrifices and so sustain the people of Israel. Those in both parties would have thought of themselves as pretty decent, even righteous. And both of them would have thought, moreover, that they had an in. They were children of Abraham.

But John can see what’s coming. He sees the world and all its evil, but he sees it in contrast with the Kingdom of God and its righteousness. It is because he sees such a great and desirable thing coming that he shouts “Repent!” He sees the advent of justice, the coming of righteousness, God being with his people not in sacrifice but in mercy. Not through the Temple but in this person Jesus Christ. He sees what is to be, and he wants to make everyone ready for it.

In Advent we take time aside to hear the words of John once again. “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near … Therefore, bear fruit worthy of repentance.” We may see our lives as the same old same old. We may be lulled by ordinary life. We may not think our lives are the sort God might interrupt. So John interrupts us. The ax is laying at the root of the tree. This is not the world we are made for. Repent. The new creation is coming. Repent. Be made ready for that day which has no end. Repent. Love what is truly lovely. Repent. Enjoy what is there to be enjoyed. Repent. The Kingdom of Heaven has come near.

Prepare the Way: End Times

Prepare the Way: End Times

Treat Every Day as the End

Matthew 24:36-44

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. Nov. 30th, 2025

I grew up around a lot of end times expectation. The Left Behind books were still being published. Christian movies about the end of the world happened to become box office draws. It was the earlier days of the internet so if you were looking for information about the end times and how it will come about you’d easily fall into some conspiracy rabbit hole. I remember reading about the UN’s Agenda 21 and the New World Order and how the antichrist would bring about a one world government and strike peace in the middle east. Whether you were paying attention to Pat Robertson, or Hal Lindsey, or Jack van Impe there was someone willing to share their view about the events that need to take place before the return of Christ.

I say I grew up around this, but a lot of end times speculation will always be with us. It wasn’t too long ago that predicting the date of the rapture was a TikTok trend. Peter Thiel, one of the richest and most influential people in the world is happy to give lectures on the antichrist and what form he or she will take. Many people believe there the signs are out there for people who have eyes that see and ears that hear. In some way this must be true. As Paul reminds us this morning, “salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers.” Jesus does warn us about wars and rumors of wars, earthquakes and pestilences. These things, he tells us, are the beginning of the birth pangs.

But this morning we get a different picture from Jesus than we would get from end times prognosticators. He says no one knows the day or the hour of the Son of Man’s return— not even the Son of Man! He does not lay out a blueprint of the events that must take place before he returns. He does not warn us of one world governments or sustainability agendas or syncretic religion. Rather, quite astoundingly, and disturbingly, he tells us the end will come like a thief in the night. Otherwise the master would not have let his house be broken into.

But what I am most struck by is his description of life immediately before his coming. He likens his second coming to life immediately before Noah’s flood. In that story humanity had given itself over to such wickedness that God regretted his creation. But rather than give up on it he decided to start things over. He singled out Noah, the sole righteous man in his sight, and told him to build a giant boat and put two of every kind of animal on the boat. Noah had forewarning, but no one else outside of his family did.

Jesus describes the entirely ordinary form of life people had before the cataclysm came. “in the days before the flood they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day Noah entered the ark.” He does not say they were waring and looting. He did not say they labored under an oppressive global tyranny. But they were eating and drinking, they were marrying and giving in marriage. They were leading normal, ordinary lives. Prosperous lives. If they may have abused what they ate and drank, or the marriage bed.

He says it will be like this upon his return. “Then two will be in the field; one will be taken, and one will be left. Two women will be grinding meal together; one will be taken, and one will be left.” While people will be at work, while they will be eating and drinking, in the midst of their ordinary lives, the end will come.

It is because Christ will return in the midst of our ordinary lives that we are called to be vigilant. Watchful.

I think the end times prognostications of televangelists and self-proclaimed prophets are beside the point. The end will not come when we have seen the signs and calculated the bible code. The end comes when we are lulled into slumber. When everything seems so ordinary, not so extraordinary. When we take things for granted. When we are so secure and confident that we are sure we have another day ahead. God is not waiting to wrap things up until his checklist is finished. No one knows the day or the hour.

I don’t say this to frighten anyone. If anything, this should be good news. We don’t need to fear one world governments or global tyranny or the like. That’s not what Jesus offers, and that’s not the biblical picture. But what we should do is be vigilant and watchful. We should not let ourselves get lulled into normalcy. We should use the time we are given to be made more ready for that day which has no end. We shouldn’t say, “oh I have another day.” Because you may not. The event we all hope and long for may arrive. And that is good news.

If we want to be ready it’s not by buying a book or watching a movie or documentary. It is in reaching out beyond the normal life into the extraordinary life Christ offers in the here and now. It is in making yourself a conduit of his love through prayer and service. It is through the fellowship of believers that points us to the things that matter, what remains after history is rolled up like a scroll.

Because part of the good news is that the end is really not the end. And we can experience eternity now.

Declared: You Are Mine

Declared: You Are Mine

God Makes Us His Own

Luke 3:15-17, 21-22

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. Jan. 12th, 2025

When you grow up you have no idea you have an accent. Everyone speaks the way you do, uses the same slang you do, has the same intonation you do. I had no idea that I had an accent until I went to college in southern Wisconsin. When my friends heard me say “bag” the  illusion that I had no accent evaporated. Though, now, I can only hear it in a few words. Every once in awhile I am shocked by some elongated “O” that comes out of my mouth. But I can always pick it out in a recording, as it goes.

You pick up an accent by learning to speak the same way the people around you speak in the place you live. Accent, then, can become part of one’s identity. We know New Yorkers speak one way, southern whites another. And we are more aware of identity today than ever before. One’s identity can be a source of pride. I am certainly glad I grew up where I grew up, that I have a chance to live where I live. I mean, could you imagine living in Chicago?

But this sermon isn’t about that nasty morass we find ourselves in: identity politics. It’s about recognition. Recognition and identity go hand in hand. By recognition I mean an esteemed place in society, having value, being heard, being respected by virtue of who you are or who you have become. So much of identity politics is people feeling they aren’t getting the recognition they deserve, in other words they are being ignored because of who they are. But recognition isn’t only political.

I don’t think I’m painting with too broad a brush when I say we all seek recognition. We all want to be esteemed. We all want to be honored. We all want to be known by others, known well, and remembered. The opposite is anonymity, being ignored, being alienated, being alone. Recognition is something everyone strives for in their own way, whether it be through assuming responsibility and discipline in becoming a respected member of your circles, or whether it is through violence and abuse. Not being known, not being recognized, can be unbearable. These are dynamics any school teacher is familiar with.

Our gospel reading this morning is Jesus’ public debut, the moment of his recognition. On Christmas we recalled how the angels proclaimed his birth to the shepherds. The Sunday after we talked about Jesus in the Temple. And last Sunday we heard about the wise men who saw his birth proclaimed in the stars above. But none of this was the beginning of his public ministry. For the first thirty or so years of Jesus’ life he was fairly anonymous. He likely helped his father with his contracting work and assisted at the synagogue. It isn’t until he makes his way to the River Jordan that his ministry properly begins.

John the Baptist was sent to prepare the way for Jesus. He prepared the way by calling people to repentance. But he also prepared the way by baptizing Jesus in the river. After Jesus was baptized, we are told, "the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, 'You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.’”

Jesus, here, assumes an identity other than Jew, other than Galilean, other than artisan, other than man. He assumes the public identity of God’s beloved Son, and the object of God’s pleasure. He is publicly proclaimed as the Son of God. The one through whom God will redeem Israel, and release the captives.

Our baptism is the baptism of Jesus Christ. We are not made God’s Son as Jesus is God’s Son. But still God speaks through that baptism. And he speaks to us. He tells us as well, “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are mine.” And, “you are my child, my beloved, in you I am well pleased.”  God speaks through this sacrament because God knows we need it. We need the feeling of the water on our skin, we need to hear the words in our ears, we need the public reminder. Because we are likely to forget who we are. We are likely to forget we are children of God. We are likely to forget we are redeemed. That we are God’s. We are likely to revert to our fear, our doubt, our loneliness.

We all seek recognition. And if we do not get the recognition we are looking for it stings inside. But in our baptism we are given the highest honor. We receive the utmost recognition. “you are precious in my sight and honored and I love you.” The Father says. “You are my child. The beloved. You are mine."

Jesus Our Brother

Jesus Our Brother

Jesus is Human, Jesus is Divine

Luke 2:41-52

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. Dec. 29th, 2024

Our gospel reading this morning presents us with something of a paradox. Perhaps, even something some of us may find troubling. We are, first, given an account of the adolescent Jesus in Jerusalem. Mary and Joseph, being pious folk, went to Jerusalem every year to celebrate the Passover even though this would have been a financial and logistical hardship. But they travelled by caravan with others to ease the burden. When they left Jerusalem they did not realize at first that Jesus was not with them. They had made it out a days journey before they noticed Jesus wasn’t there. No one in the caravan could say where Jesus had gone.

They left the caravan and headed back to Jerusalem. It took them another three long days of searching before they found him. He was back at the Temple, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions. That would be strange enough. But even more astoundingly he was able to answer the teachers’ own questions. And his answers were filled with such insight and wisdom that those around him were amazed.

I’m sure, though, that Jesus’ wisdom and insight didn’t change how his parents felt. “Child, why have you treated us like this?” They ask. They’ve been so full of anxiety running around Jerusalem looking for him. In the very least he could have told them his plans. Made an arrangement. But Jesus’ answer is even more astonishing than all of this that has taken place. He says, “Why were you searching for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?”

They did not understand what he meant. But, Luke helpfully informs us, he did go back to Nazareth with Mary and Joseph. And he was fully obedient to them from that day on.

The picture we have here of Jesus is Jesus the Son of God. He is able to take care of himself without the aid of his parents. He sits in the Temple and is able to talk fluently with the teachers of the Law. But moreover not only is he able to discuss things with them but he is able to answer their own questions. He shows such wisdom and insight that all those who hear this child are amazed at how he might know these things even the teachers of Israel did not know. But most importantly, when asked to explain why he is acting the way he’s acting Jesus tells his mother, “don’t you know I must be in my Father’s house?” Not the house of Joseph in Nazareth, but at the house of his Heavenly Father in Jerusalem. On Mount Zion. In the Lord’s Temple. Doing his Father’s work.

The paradox, then, is this. Having given us this depiction of Jesus the Son of God Luke goes on to tell us, “And Jesus increased in wisdom and in years and in divine and human favor.” It may make sense how Jesus could increase in human favor. They do not know who he is and his name becomes more well known. We may be able to explain how he increases in divine favor. As he remains obedient to his Father in heaven. That he would increase in years goes without saying. He is, after all, flesh. But how do we make sense of this Jesus, who astonishes even the chief rabbis, increasing in wisdom? How can he, who is the Son of God, learn? If he is the incarnate God who is omniscient, how can there be things he does not know?

This paradox points to something that has troubled Christians for centuries. If Jesus is the son of God, if Jesus is the incarnation of God, how do we understand his humanity related to his divinity? How do we know Jesus as fully human? How do we know Jesus as fully divine? Insofar as Jesus is human, it makes perfect sense to us that he would grow in wisdom. Don’t we all? At least, we would hope we do. Our lives are all about change, and growth, and illness, and chance. Jesus wouldn’t be very human if he didn’t grow! But divinity does not change. God is perfectly wise, perfectly knowledgeable. If Jesus is also God, how can we say God learns? Shouldn’t he have all of that wisdom already in his head?

Throughout history there have been Christians who have emphasized Jesus’ humanity over his divinity. There have been others who emphasize Jesus’ divinity over his humanity. But here is what I know. Jesus must be our brother. Jesus must take on fully our humanity in all its weakness, growth, and change. If Jesus is not in every respect human as much as we are then our salvation is in doubt. As the early church put it, what is not assumed is not redeemed. Jesus is our salvation, in part, because he is fully human. God has assumed all our humanity in Jesus. When Jesus dies on the cross that is a human being dying on a cross. A human being God has assumed. And if this Jesus is not the God-Man on the cross, then he’s just another man on the cross. Then, the mysterious work of atonement is not made.

Jesus is our brother. And Jesus is God. The human Jesus cried when he was hungry. The Son of God needed to be rocked to sleep. The human Jesus coughed. The Son of God sneezed. And the human Jesus grew up, learned to speak, learned to read. While he may have received some insight by virtue of his godliness, it is none other than the human Jesus who impresses the rabbis in the Temple.

Here is a core mystery of our faith. The wise one learns, the immortal one dies, the immutable one grows. It could be no other way. The divine takes on humanity. The holy one is profaned. The prisoner is set free. The blind see. The lame walk. The lepers are cleansed. The dead rise from their graves.

Christmas Eve: God With Us

God With Us

God Becomes One of Us

John 1:1-14

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. Dec. 24th, 2024

“In those days,” Luke’s gospel tells us, “a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered.” The registration required that everyone go to their ancestral towns. Joseph, being of the house of David, returned to the town of David. That is, Bethlehem. But the little town of Bethlehem was packed with people who had come to be registered. That left no room for the couple, even though Mary was about to give birth. They went from house to house until finally an entrepreneurial innkeeper offered his barn where the donkeys stayed.

When Joseph paid the innkeeper for his night he likely did so with coins marked with the face of Caesar Augustus himself. Though Augustus would have been well advanced in years by this point, the coins would have portrayed him as a young and handsome man. Written above his profile would have been the latin words “Divi filius” the son of a deity. The son of a divine one. The son of a god.

Augustus was born Octavian, but took on the name Augustus after he assumed leadership of the Roman Republic. At which point the Republic became an empire. His adoptive father was Julius Caesar, who, after his assassination was declared a deity by the senate. So Augustus could literally claim to be the son of a god. He could literally claim to be god-like.

And who was going to tell him otherwise? He was a handsome man who through force and cunning brought peace to the Republic and to the world. He was a man of deep piety and virtue who lived in a relatively small dwelling. Augustus worked tirelessly for the people of Rome. He was courageous, just, temperate, and magnanimous. He was strong. He was glorious. When he entered a room people imagined they were gazing upon a hero. They knew they were in the presence of someone divine.

Augustus was a man who tried to make himself like the Roman gods he worshiped. He tried to imitate them in their virtues, their strength, their immortality, their impenetrability. His power was so great he did get people to worship him even when he was alive. But, for all that, Augustus did die. When he died the Roman Senate declared him to be a god as well. But his flesh turned to dust. His bones are all that remain. They lie in a mausoleum in Rome. Bu that mausoleum is not a sacred site, it’s purely of historical and cultural interest. No worshippers come by to pay respects. Only tourists.

You are what you worship. Or, more accurately, you try to become like that which you worship. Augustus worshipped gods of might and glory. Eventually the Roman Senate declared him to be part of their pantheon. Great sages across the ages have worshipped gods of deep tranquility and contemplation. Gods who cannot be bothered by the changes and chances of life, the ravages of time. And so they too seek lives of deep tranquility and equanimity. Others may worship power for its own sake, and seek to gain power. Some worship money, and spend their lives accumulating it even though they don’t know what they’ll ever do with it. But such people are striving to make themselves more like their god. Closer to their god.

Luke’s gospel also tells us there were shepherds in the field keeping watch over their flocks by night. They were not like Augustus. They would never turn heads when they entered a room. Their lives were not glorious, their faces were not handsome. They weren’t the most reputable. They smelled. They lived a hard life, and couldn’t always expect a roof over their heads or food for dinner. It was in the middle of an ordinary cold night that all of the sudden the sky burst overhead with all the glory of heaven. An angel appeared before them with the most extraordinary news, “to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.” And if they were to find this child he would not be in a palace wrapped in warm blankets. He would instead be “wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a feeding trough.” Before the angel departed he was joined by a whole army of heaven as the sky grew brighter than the day, and they all proclaimed, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!”

As soon as the angel had arrived he was gone. And the shepherds left to Bethlehem to see this child they had been told about. To see the one who was to redeem Israel. To see the messiah, the Christ. To see the one John tells us is the Word become flesh, who dwells among us.

We do not worship a God who dwells in unapproachable light. We do not worship a God blissed out and tuned out. We do not worship a God who waits for us to make ourselves more like him. We worship the baby in the manger. We worship the God who suckled on his mother’s breast. We worship the God who grew up. The God who would grow ill. The God who wept. The God who laughed. The God who died. The God who conquered death. The God who joins himself to every element of human experience. The God who calls us. The God who gives us the power to be called children of God. That we may be born, “who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God.”

We strive to become the gods we worship. We strive to be more than human. To escape our vulnerabilities, our weaknesses, our dependence on one another. But God chose to make himself known to us by becoming one of us. That is how God understands himself. As the babe in the manger, because there was no room in the inn. Who does not conquer with great glory, but suffers meekly.

In his weakness we find strength. In his death, life. In his forgiveness, grace.

Let us become, then, what we worship. The merciful one. The grace-filled one. The sacrificing one. The joyful one. The light. The life of men.

Tinsel: The World Upside Down

Tinsel: The World Upside Down

Salvation is by Grace Alone

Luke 1:46b-55

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. Dec. 22nd, 2024

These past few weeks I’ve talked about the way Christ may deliver us from our own illusions and sentimentalities. That there can be something fake about this season, and that fakeness can be spiritually deadening. The more we indulge in our own illusions the more we give room for sin. Sin thrives on unreality. As I was working on this series there was an old short story by Flannery O’Connor called Revelation that I just couldn't get out of my head. And I want to tell it to you. Because like all Flannery O’Connor stories it says something loud about grace. It may shock us into some recognition about the strange story of the Gospel.

Revelation concerns a proper southern land owner named Ruby Turpin (what a great name). The story opens with Mrs. Turpin sitting in a doctor’s office waiting for the doctor to check on her husband’s leg ulcer. As she sits down she immediately casts judgment on everyone in the office. Though let’s be honest, we’ve all probably done this. She sees a little boy who is too inconsiderate to move so she can sit down. There’s the boy’s mother who’s hair is unkempt and is clearly white trash. There’s an 18 year old college student who is fat, acne ridden, and ugly.
The only respectable individual (other than her husband and herself) in the room is the student’s mother. So they strike up a conversation about the farm Mrs. Turpin works on and how it is hard to find good black migrant workers these days.

As the conversation goes on, and we are allowed into Mrs. Turpin’s head we learn more and more about the seemingly proper farm lady. We learn how she stays up at night trying to classify people from low to high. Obviously black people are the lowest, but poor white trash are just as bad, just off to the side. Though she doesn’t know what to do with people who have more money than her, but are not as respectable as her. She wonders how she would have decided if Jesus had told her that she were going to be made white trash or black. She decides she would have rather been made black, as long as she could keep her good and sunny disposition.

As she is talking the student glares into her. The narrator tells us that it seemed like the student had hated Mrs. Turpin her whole life. Not the student’s whole life, but Mrs. Turpin’s. That she could see deep inside her, and was disgusted by every bit. Finally the student, who we learn is named Mary Grace (another great name), has enough of Mrs. Turpin’s pretensions and respectability and throws her textbook in Mrs. Turpin’s face, and lunges at her. The textbook, ironically, is titled “Human Development.” She wraps her hands around Mrs. Turpin’s throat and tries to choke her out. The doctor jumps out of his office and tranquilizes Mary Grace. The two lock eyes one more time, and we’re told Mrs. Turpin waits on expecting some sort of revelation. But Mary Grace says, “go back to Hell you old wart hog.”

Mrs. Turpin is deeply troubled by this revelation. She can’t do anything the rest of the day but stare off into space, wondering what it might mean. How could she be an old wart hog? She’s always done good by others. She even showed kindness to the black people who worked for her. She’d always worked hard. She’d always gone to church.

That night as the sun goes down she heads to the pig parlor to spray the hogs. And that’s when she receives her final revelation. And here I need to quote Ms. O’Connor’s words directly, “Then like a monumental statue coming to life, she bent her head slowly and gazed, as if through the very heart of mystery, down into the pig parlor at the hogs. They had settled all in one corner around the old sow who was grunting softly. A red glow suffused them. They appeared to pant with a secret life.” So first she sees that even the hogs are worth something. But then she looks out onto the tree line.

Until the sun slipped finally behind the tree line, Mrs. Turpin remained there with her gaze bent to them as if she were absorbing some abysmal life-giving knowledge. At last she lifted her head. There was only a purple streak in the sky, cutting through a field of crimson and leading, like an extension of the highway, into the descending dusk. She raised her hands from the side of the pen in a gesture hieratic and profound. A visionary light settled in her eyes. She saw the streak as a vast swinging bridge extending upward from the earth through a field of living fire. Upon it a vast horde of souls were rumbling toward heaven. There were whole companies of white-trash, clean for the first time in their lives, and bands of blacks in white robes, and battalions of freaks and lunatics shouting and clapping and leaping like frogs. And bringing up the end of the procession was a tribe of people whom she recognized at once as those who, like herself and Claud, had always had a little of everything and the God-given wit to use it right. She leaned forward to observe them closer. They were marching behind the others with great dignity, accountable as they had always been for good order and common sense and respectable behavior. They alone were on key. Yet she could see by their shocked an altered faces that even their virtues were being burned away. She lowered her hands and gripped the rail of the hog pen, her eyes small but fixed unblinkingly on what lay ahead. In a moment the vision faded but she remained where she was, immobile.

At length she got down and turned off the faucet and made her slow way on the darkening path to the house. In the woods around her the invisible cricket choruses had struck up, but what she heard were the voices of the souls climbing upward into the starry field and shouting hallelujah.

It is something like this that Mary intuits and she sings her song. Mrs. Turpin is obsessed with her own goodness, her breeding, her sunny disposition. She is thankful to God not for his grace, but for the way God made her. She is certain that the world is exactly as God had intended. That God has set everything and everyone into a beautiful hierarchy. But it took the mad fits of lunatic to break through her false self and reveal that truly, “prostitutes and tax collectors are entering the Kingdom of Heaven ahead of you!” It took the vision of the pigs to show her a world turned upside down. She sees the blacks and white trash making their way into the Kingdom ahead of her and all her virtues, all her properness and respectability and common sense being melted away by the fires of grace. Because they were false before the God who elects the despised and saves the condemned. And she could only be saved, in the words of Paul, “as through fire.”

Mary, in her song, depicts a world that is being turned upside down. A world that has been turned upside down in the incarnation of Jesus Christ. “He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty.” The last illusion that needs to be cast aside is the illusion of our own goodness and merit of God’s blessing. God does not look on our strength, or sunny disposition, or our “a little bit of everything and the God-given wit to use it right.” God looks on our faith alone. Which is why it’s the people at the bottom of the rung that Ms. Turpin sees making it first. The people who thought they had it made having their illusions burned away as if through fire. The world literally being turned upside down. The last first. The first last.

This all may seem harsh. But this is in fact good news. The good news is that our salvation is accomplished by Christ, not by us. And we worship a God who lifts up the lowly. We worship a God who took a little girl and made it so all generations would call her blessed. Why? Because of her innate charm? Her beauty? Her breeding? No. Because she said yes.

Say yes to Christ, and he will show you his mercy and his love. And this Christmas you may know his joy.

Tinsel: Disconnection

Tinsel: Disconnection

Connect to God

Philippians 4:4-7

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. Dec. 15th, 2024

I’m an avid reader. I usually read about seventy books a year. That’s well over a book a week. So when I tell you I’m an avid reader, I do mean that. But, truthfully, in all that I read there are only a handful that stick with me like a tough piece of meat. I have to keep chewing on them until they are done. If they will be done. One of those books is a work of anthropology called How Forests Think by Eduardo Kohn. The gist of the book is he tries to explain the animism of an Amerindian tribe called the Runa using a theory of signs and symbols. Animism is the belief that spirits inhabit most things and that these spirits are personal. So, in short, he uses a theory of signs to show that to the extent that even a tree gives signs to a monkey, they are communicating, and if they are communicating they are “living” and “thinking.”

This much is way too complicated for a Sunday morning sermon and I will not be getting into it. But it’s all to say there was one part of the book that particularly struck me. He was describing a trip he had taken deep into Colombia for field work. His bus got caught in mud and they had to stop. He knew the area was prone to mudslides and imagined another one might be imminent. But to his shock neither the other passengers or the driver showed any concern for the danger. He immediately felt a great deal of anxiety and dis-ease. Looking back on the episode he realized it was because the environment had sent him a series of signs, the mud, the hill, and so on, that added up to an immanent threat. At least, by his interpretation of the signs. But no one around him showed the slightest interest in the threat. He had the experience of being thrown outside of the constellation of signs that make up the world. He felt threatened, alienated, isolated, and this feeling of threat and alienation from both the world and the others created in him a deep sense of anxiety.

The reason this section of the book struck me is it put into words, more than anything else, my own experience with anxiety. Now, everyone has their own experiences and I do not mean to delegitimize any other by sharing my own. But I began experiencing panic attacks in the fourth grade, and for all of grade school anxiety was a constant feature of my life. It did not begin to subside until my freshman year of undergrad. So that’s a substantial portion of my life where I would, daily, experience intense anxiety. And, to my knowledge, I was the only person in class who suffered in the manner that I suffered. So whenever an attack hit I felt very disconnected from the rest of the world. It was, as if, the signs I were receiving did not make sense. My inner life, did not gel with my surroundings. And one way I coped with what I was experiencing was, effectively, to shut my self off from what was going on outside of me.

I have to think my experience is more common than I grew up believing. While other people may not feel what I felt with the same intensity, I have to think many of us experience a great dis-ease when the world around us does not mesh with what we feel inside. Take this holiday season, for instance. We are being bombarded with constant messages of peace, love, joy, family, consumerism, and the like. But for some of us this is the first holiday without a loved one. Others may be experiencing family separation. Or for whatever reason just cannot get into what is called the “holiday spirit.” And that experience, that feeling that the signs the world sends us do not mesh with our inward selves, our deep feelings, can create a distinct sense of anxiety.

Alienation, loneliness, are breeding grounds for anxiety. Nothing makes us feel more anxious than being alone in a crowd.

If this is how you feel, there is not something wrong with you. This loneliness, this disconnection, is a consequence of sin in the world. But not necessarily a consequence of your sin. We are not meant to be this way. We are meant to know joy and peace in God. And that is what God wants for us.

If you feel disconnected, alienated, anxious, this holiday season Paul gives us some advice on this third Sunday in Advent. “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” If the world seems alienating, connect yourself to God. After all, this whole season is really about God making himself known to us in a physical, tangible way. As we wait on Christ’s return God is willing to make himself known to you today.

In the depth of my anxiety I did not need to despair. The peace that surpasses all understanding does not necessarily make the anxiety go away. It is, after all, beyond our understanding. But it carries us onward. This world is deeply unsatisfying. Full of pain, suffering, heartache. Not much makes sense to us. And yet we may still rejoice in all things. Because at the heart of it all is love. And that love joined us in our suffering, that we may join in his victory.

Tinsel: Original Sin

Tinsel: Original Sin

Grace is Prior

Luke 1:68-79

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. Dec. 8th, 2024

G.K. Chesterton, the Catholic journalist and man of letters, once remarked that he thought it was surprising that “certain new theologians dispute original sin, which is the only part of Christian theology which can really be proved.” At least, according to Chesterton, if there is any element of Christian theology open to empirical verification it’s that people just ain’t no good.

But I think Chesterton is doing a little slight of hand here. I want to do justice to those who have trouble with the doctrine original sin. Original sin is not the doctrine that people do bad things from time to time. Or even that people have a tendency to do the bad thing. It is the idea that being born in sin we are held captive to sin. That when Adam and Eve ate of the forbidden fruit they contaminated all of humanity with sin. The reformation doctrine here is that we are totally depraved, that we cannot help but sin in all that we do. At least, when it comes to our own powers, as concerns our own nature.

Perhaps you see why someone might bristle at the idea that we are held so entirely captive to sin we can’t do anything but sin. This idea is not, in fact, empirically verifiable. It would seem, rather, the opposite idea is empirically verifiable. There are all sorts of decent buddhists, muslims, jews, and atheists. People who have sacrificed for the ideals of humanity, justice, and compassion. I only need to point to the example of Gandhi, who showed a willingness to sacrifice for the sake of freedom that is inspiring even for Christians.

Not only does it seem empirically verifiable that people are capable of doing good on their own power, but it also seems unnecessarily dour and anti-human to suggest otherwise. How can we say original sin is good news? How many people have experienced being called a sinner simply as a form of condemnation without hope of justification? It seems like original sin runs counter to the best insights of our time. We might say original sin piles on trauma. When people just need hope.

There’s a famous sermon from the puritan days given by a preacher by the name of Jonathan Edwards. In it he likens the human predicament to a spider being held over the fire by God, “his wrath towards you burns like fire; he looks upon you as worthy of nothing else, but to be cast into the fire; he is of purer eyes than to bear to have you in his sight; you are ten thousand times more abominable in his eyes, than the most hateful venomous serpent is in ours.” Is this what we mean when we talk about Original Sin?

Classic evangelical sermons start from sin and move to grace. They seek to puncture our confidence in ourselves. Tear apart our illusions about how successful we are, or how good we are. I know of one evangelistic technique that asks someone if they’ve stolen anything in their lives. Most have, even if it was a candy bar or a song online. So you say, “so you are a thief, then? What do you think should happen to thieves? Have you lied? Well you’re a liar then. What do you think should happen to liars?” And so on. The idea is before you can get the good news, you need to be fully aware of the bad news. God’s grace is magnified by our own unworthiness, by our own predicament.

There is a place for such preaching. John the Baptist preaches repentance. The people need to turn away from their sins and toward the grace of God. For many it is beneficial that they hit rock bottom, so that God can raise them up. But if we start at Original Sin, act as if Original Sin is the one empirically verifiable aspect of our theology, I think we’ll miss something very important and distort the gospel. We can only come to a knowledge of the depth of our sinfulness, if we first come to a knowledge of the fullness of God's grace. The grace of God is always, always, always prior.

This morning’s responsive reading is Zechariah’s Benedictus from Luke chapter 1. When the Lord loosen’s Zechariah’s lips upon the birth of his son John he sings out this song. It concludes thus, “And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High, for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, to give his people knowledge of salvation by the forgiveness of their sins. Because of the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, to shine upon those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.” I recite this song in my personal devotions most every day. And I’m always struck by the image of “the dawn from on high” or, as older translations render it, “the dayspring from on high.” Zechariah sings that John is to give his people knowledge of salvation, because their sins will be forgiven. And that, in this time, God will bring about a great light, a new dawn, that will set peoples feet straight. That before they were in darkness, now they may be in light. And being able to see, they will know where to go.

Part of sin is self-deception. We are very good at self-deception. We are very good at excusing our own sins, which are of course not as grave as the other person’s. We are very good at excusing the sins of those we like, while magnifying the sins of those we don’t like. We are very good at straying from God. Keeping ourselves shut out in a life of amusement and entertainment. We seek out illusions that keep us from seeing as God sees. Living as God would have us live. This illusion, this self-deception, is shattered by God’s grace. By the preaching of the word, by encounter with God, by our own illusions breaking down. And when this happens, it is by the light of God’s grace, that we may look back and see how we once were.

Original sin is meant to identify this reality. That we are not as good as we think, and it is by grace that we are delivered. Thanks be to God.

Tinsel: Waiting

Tinsel: Waiting

Attend to the Means of Grace

Luke 21:25-36

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. Dec. 1st, 2024

What a strange scripture to open the holiday season. While Mariah Carey is singing “All I Want for Christmas is You,” the Hallmark Channel is nothing but Christmas Rom-Coms, Macauley Culkin is taking care of the wet bandits, and Ralphie is hoping for a Red Ryder Carbine Action 200-shot Range Model air rifle Jesus is telling us about the shaking heavens and the earth passing away. Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town while Jesus warns us about dissipation and drunkenness. The world tells us to buy, Jesus tells us to wait.

But we shouldn’t be so surprised. Jesus is not above provocation, and he’s not above shocking us. When a woman told Jesus, “blessed be the woman who bore you!” Jesus’ response wasn’t, “oh thank you, she’s a wonderful woman. Immaculate, even.” He said, “blessed are those who hear my words and keep them.” When he was called “good teacher,” he replied, “why do you call me good? No one is good except God alone.” When a pharisee told him he knew he was from God, he didn’t congratulate him on his powers of perception and wisdom, but told him instead “no one can see the Kingdom of God unless they are born again.”

Jesus does often provoke and shock. But he’s not shocking us just to shock us. He doesn’t mean to provoke us for the sake of provocation. But he means to teach us. And sometimes in order to open our minds we need to be shocked, if we want to see more clearly we need to be provoked. If we carry along our merry way we might miss what we need to see.

If there is any season of the secular calendar that can weigh us down with dissipation and drunkenness it’s Christmas. Not just literally, in drinking and partying, but also figuratively. We can get so caught up in the wreaths and tinsel, the cookies and carols, George Bailey and Ebenezer Scrooge that Jesus himself can feel tacked on. We’re more ready to talk about the Christmas Spirit than we are about the birth of the Christ. A vague joy than the one who gives us joy. Peace on earth than the prince of peace.

Jesus calls us to be on guard, to be alert at all times, that we would see the signs of the times with eyes wide open. That we would be aware of the workings of God, the movements of his Spirit. If we are focused on worldly things, like presents and parties, and letters and Nakatomi Plaza, we will not give due attention to the things of God. The monks of the middle ages had a saying, “I fear Christ passing me by.” Which is why they lived their life in attentiveness toward God in all his guises.

So how are we to wait? How are we to enjoy this season? I am reminded of an early controversy in the Methodist movement. There were those who believed nothing you did mattered before God gave you the grace of justification. That is to say, anything you did was sinful in some way before God gave you the assurance that he regards you as his own. So, these quietists said, the best thing to do is nothing. You should wait patiently for the gift of God’s grace. Just have faith it will come.

John Wesley did not like that answer. For one, he didn’t think it made practical sense. People will not wait for very long. Secondly, he didn’t think it made good theological sense of how God actually works in the Church. He believed waiting needed to be coupled with attending to the means of God’s grace. That is to say, we wait not by doing nothing, but in prayer, in fasting, in reading scripture, in receiving communion, in the corporate life of the Church. We don’t sit around and do nothing, because God has given us all these means by which he works. If we were to cut ourselves off from them, we are cutting ourselves off from God.

And so it remains for us today. If we are to wait without dissipation or drunkenness, if we are to remain alert, if we are to see the work of God, then we should avail ourselves of the means of his grace. Attend ourselves to the gifts he has given us. Let us make this a Holy Advent. In the midst of the hustle and bustle let’s seek out ways to renew our prayer life. Let’s pick up a daily practice of reading scripture. Let’s cut through the clutter of the season to focus our mind on what really matters. He is coming. So let us be ready.

Wisdom for Life: Temple

Wisdom for Life: Temple

God Unites Himself to Us in Steadfast Love

1 Kings 8: 22-30, 41-43

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. Aug. 25th, 2024

The ancient greek poet Philostratos once said, “the gods perceive future things, ordinary people things in the present, but the wise perceive things about to happen.” The gods perceive future things because they may possess absolute knowledge. Ordinary people only see what is happening in the ordinary stream of time. This, that, and then the other thing. But the wise may perceive the events about to take place. By their knowledge of people, the world, and God, they may guess at future events. These are not predictions, revelations from God. Rather, it is grasping at the pattern of things, knowing how people act, knowing the character of the God who loves them and they love.

Solomon is one such wise person. We are not told that he receives any special revelation, though we are told he has received special knowledge. That is the wisdom that God has given him. And by this wisdom he can perceive the things of God. If we receive that wisdom, cultivate that wisdom, we too can better discern the things of God.

Solomon is not only known for his wisdom, but he’s also known for building the Temple in Jerusalem. This morning we read from his dedication prayer, where he praises God and calls down blessings upon the Temple. It’s instructive to see how he describes God, what he takes to be the character of God.

Solomon prays, “O LORD, God of Israel, there is no God like you in heaven above or on earth beneath, keeping covenant and steadfast love with your servants who walk before you with all their heart.” Here Solomon identifies two characteristics about God. The first is that God is a covenanting God. That he makes promises to Israel, and he keeps them. He made promises through Moses, he made promises through Joshua, he made promises through Saul, and made promises through David. “Therefore, O LORD, God of Israel, keep for your servant my father David that which you promised him, saying, 'There shall never fail you a successor before me to sit on the throne of Israel, if only your children look to their way, to walk before me as you have walked before me.’” By making these promises God establishes a relationship with his people, a relationship that does not falter. God promises there shall always be successor on the throne of Israel, and so there is to this day in Jesus Christ.

The Temple Solomon is dedicating will be a place where the people of Israel can keep their relationship with God through prayer, worship, and sacrifice. It is a physical reminder and enactment of the covenant God has made.

But Solomon also says God shows steadfast love. This is a weighty word in Hebrew. It refers to the grace of God toward his people. That love that remains through the thick and the thin. The love that will never leave us or forsake us. It is the love described in the Song of Songs as, “as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave.” It is on account of this love that God sticks to his covenants, to his relationships.

But it is also on account of this love that God commits to be present in the Temple. Solomon says more than he knows when he asks, “But will God indeed dwell on the earth?”

The answer is yes. Because of God’s steadfast love. Because of the everlasting covenant he has made. Yes. God will indeed dwell on the earth. The one the heavens cannot contain will be held in the arms of his mother. The one who holds all in life will suckle at his mother’s breast. The one whose grace is over all his works, who makes the rain to fall on the just and the unjust alike will be protected by his earthly father. The one who cannot be harmed will be whipped. The deathless one will die.

Solomon was amazed at the steadfast love of God to choose a building made by hands. But God’s steadfast love is even greater than he imagined. God remains with us in our illness, in our doubts, in our despair, in our death. That he may give us life. This love cannot be severed. It is unending. Truly steadfast. Truly unyielding as the grave.

The wise Solomon perceives what is about to happen but only in a glimmer. He sees a piece of what the angels long to see, what the prophets and patriarchs wished to see. But what we have seen, what we have known. The ultimate expression, the definitive act, of God’s love for us. In dying our death, in giving us life, in erasing the barrier of sin. In reconciling us to himself.

Wisdom for Life: Solomon

Wisdom for Life: Solomon

Wisdom is Practical Know-How

1 Kings 2:10-12; 3:3-14

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. Aug. 18th, 2024

When I was in school we didn’t have the internet. If you wanted to find a book in the library you had to consult the card catalogue. When I worked on research projects in elementary school I had to go to the local cyber cafe to access the internet. I don’t know if you had a cyber cafe here in Bad Axe. But one of our local internet providers had a room with maybe eight or twelve PC’s and a bar with pop and candy. You’d pay for a certain amount of time at the computers, and could buy pop and so forth. It was a big deal growing up when we finally got the internet at home. On our shiny Windows 95 PC.

I still remember in middle school when our computer science teacher introduced us to this fancy new website: Google. It was better than yahoo, or lycos, or webcrawler, or altavista. It was a search engine that was more likely to put what you were looking for at the top. And was so slick it made yahoo directories obsolete. Now it seems ridiculous that a middle schooler would be introduced to Google.

The internet came with a lot of promise. It would make information free. Knowledge would stream through the cable lines to your computer like water through a tap. People would grow more informed, knowledgeable, and empathetic. How foolish we were back then.

Now we are so awash with information we don’t know what to do with it all. Only companies like Google, Apple, and ChatGPT know how to monetize all the information we generate. It used to be said, “A lie can travel half way around the world while the truth is putting on its shoes.” But now with the benefit of technology a lie can run at least three laps before truth’s shoes are laced. Does anyone go on Facebook expecting to find the truth anymore?

In a world so awash with information what we really need is wisdom. Not facts and figures, anecdotes and code, but real know-how. Practical knowledge that helps us navigate life and make sense of a rapidly changing topsy-turvy world. Perhaps this is why there is such an industry of gurus who claim to hold the key to a flourishing life. Like Jordan Peterson who claims his training in psychiatry helps him to understand the deeper meanings of Pinocchio and Moses, and how these stories give us at least twenty four rules for life. Or Tony Robbins who wants to help you get past your limiting beliefs to recognize your full potential. Or Norman Vincent Peale who wants you to think positively and, I dunno, it’ll just work out.

While the world of ancient Israel was not as fast moving or information heavy as today, people still sought wisdom. People of all times and places have sought that practical know-how that helps them lead their best life now. The Bible recounts one such individual: Solomon. Solomon, the Bible claims was the wisest person of his day.

This morning we heard how he got this wisdom. We are told that after David had died Solomon went to sacrifice to the Lord at Gibeon. It was there that the Lord appeared to him in a dream and for the sake of Solomon’s father David offered him anything he wished. "Ask what I should give you.”

While if I were in Solomon’s shoes I’m sure I would stammer, and wonder, and probably wake up without having asked for anything. But Solomon knew exactly what he wanted, exactly what he needed. “O LORD my God, you have made your servant king in place of my father David, although I am only a little child; I do not know how to go out or come in. And your servant is in the midst of the people whom you have chosen, a great people so numerous they cannot be numbered or counted. Give your servant, therefore, an understanding mind to govern your people, able to discern between good and evil, for who can govern this great people of yours?””

In other words Solomon says, “I have no idea what I’m doing! I can’t lead this people you have given me unless you give me a wise mind. A discerning mind. One that can tell evil from good and know what to do about it.” And this greatly pleases God. It pleases God because Solomon did not ask for wealth, or honor, or power. He asked for wisdom. And wisdom will always make us kindred with God. So God promises Solomon he will have wisdom, that he will be the wisest King. And moreover, “I give you also what you have not asked, both riches and honor all your life; no other king shall compare with you.”

The wisdom Solomon possessed was not simply a spiritual wisdom. An otherworldly wisdom. The wisdom of some monk on a far off mountain humming mantras or speaking in koans. This is not an escapist wisdom. The wisdom of the Solomon was the wisdom of know-how. The practical knowledge that allows one to live well, to lead well, to serve well.

Lucky for us, this wisdom did not die with Solomon. The books of Proverbs and Ecclesiastes recount this same wisdom. The Second Book of Kings shows that wisdom in action. And for the next few Sundays we will follow the lectionary as this wisdom is shown and described so we may see too how we may lead wise and flourishing lives today.