God's Love Poured Out

God’s Love Poured Out

What Sets Us Apart

Romans 5:1-5
Rev. Tim Callow
Preached Sun. June 12, 2022

In his autobiography Brother to a Dragonfly, Baptist minister Will Campbell tells the story about a conversation he had with a former newspaper editor who would chide him with the question “And what’s the state of the Easter chicken, Preacher Will?” Finally, one day, Will Campbell asked him what he meant. The man explained, “You know, Preacher Will, that Church of yours and Mr. Jesus is like an Easter chicken my little Karen got one time. Man, it was a pretty thing. Dyed a deep purple. Bought it at the grocery store.”

He explained how over time the chicken, which made his wife very happy, began to feather out and the purple mixed with red plumage. He put the chicken in the coop with the others, but the other chickens didn’t accept it. Because the Easter chicken was different. They knew it, and the easter chicken knew it. They’d peck at it, and wouldn’t let it roost with them. But over time that chicken began to change. It the dyed feathers disappeared, it looked and acted just like any other chicken.

So Will asked the man, “Well, the Easter chicken is still useful. It lays eggs, doesn’t it?”

And then came the punchline: “Yea, Preacher Will. It lays eggs. But they all lay eggs. Who needs an Easter chicken for that? And the Rotary Club serves coffee. And the 4-H Club says prayers. The Red Cross takes up offerings for hurricane victims. Mental Health does counseling, and the Boy Scouts have youth programs.”

Same goes for the Church. What sets us apart from the Rotary, 4-H, Red Cross, Mental Health, and Boy Scouts? What is the particular place and purpose of the Church? What do we do, what are we about, that cannot be found in any other voluntary organization? That cannot be found in any social service?

It is easy to fall into the rut of seeing the Church as the sum of its programming. The Church feeds the poor. The Church is a place to raise children in morality. The Church offers a place for recovery and healing. But that can’t be it. All of that can be part of it. But it can’t be the sum of it.

Paul helps to draw us back to the core of what makes the Church the Church in our reading from Romans this morning. “Therefore,” he writes, “since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.” That is the first point that sets us apart. We are set apart by the gospel we proclaim in word and deed. We are that society that proclaims Jesus victorious over sin. We proclaim that by his cross we are forgiven. By his resurrection we may know life and may have peace with God. We also proclaim, “through him we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand; and we boast in our hope of sharing the glory of God.” We not only proclaim the forgiveness of God, but also his grace. Not just to forgive, but to heal. To transform. And we proclaim the life eternal, sharing in the glory of God.

That is one way we are set apart, the things we teach. But there is a second way we are set apart, a second way we are the easter chicken and not just any other ordinary chicken. Or at least, a way we ought to be set apart. Paul writes, “God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.”

We are also the people who have been gifted the Holy Spirit, the presence of God in our midst. And that Holy Spirit is the love of God poured into our hearts. That one love is shared among us. So we are that society gathered in the presence of God, held by the bonds of love. That love, the fellowship and support, ought to also characterize the society of the Church. “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples,” Jesus said, “if you love one another.”

Here then are two characteristics that make us easter chickens, not just any old ordinary chickens. We are set apart by the good news we proclaim: Jesus crucified and risen. The forgiveness of our sins. The grace of God. Eternal life. And all of this not of our own doing, but sheerly by God’s work for us. Out of love for us. And we are also separated by that love, the Spirit poured into our hearts that binds us. That we may show in the love and forgiveness we share among one another God’s love to a world that needs to see and not just hear.

Without the proclamation, without the Spirit, the Church becomes just another social club or social service. It is God in our midst that sets us apart, because God has set us apart. It is Christ we have to offer the world.

Pentecost Sermon

Pentecost

The Church is the Gift of God

Acts 2:1-21
Rev. Tim Callow
Preached Sun. June 5, 2022

After Jesus had ascended into heaven the apostles waited to see what God had next in store. On the feast of Pentecost they were gathered all in one place. It was on that morning that the sound like a violent wind came down from heaven, and filled the whole house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, we are told fell on each of the disciples. And then, the sky opened and coming down from heaven, complete, and pure, was… the Book of Discipline.

The apostles immediately went about the first Charge Conference. They elected Peter as lay leader. James would be head of the church council. Matthew would be the finance chair. It was a struggle to find someone to chair the SPPRC, but in the end Bartholomew stood up. Trustees would be headed by John. And John Mark took the minutes.

A joyous time was had by all as they heard reports and passed motions according to Roberts Rules of Order. They wrote a mission statement, and vision statement, staffed their committees with volunteers, and went to work. And so the Church was born.

No, no, it didn’t go that way. It didn’t go that way because the Church isn’t formed by her bylaws and mission statements. Peter and the rest weren’t given Roberts Rules and a board and sub-committees.

Instead, the Church is the gift of God. It is the society formed by the outpouring of the Spirit. On that important morning as Moses had received the covenant on Mt. Sinai the apostles received the Holy Spirit. The Spirit descended as flames of fire, and gave them the ability to speak in all the tongues of the nations. Jews from all over the world were gathered in Jerusalem that day to celebrate the festival, to celebrate the delivery of the Law to Moses. And it was to this global gathering that the apostles first preached. They left the place they were staying and went out into the streets, so full of the Spirit of God that they proclaimed, “everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved!”

The people listening had not experienced such power before, and thought they must be drunk. “Not so,” Peter said, “It is only 9 in the morning. No, what you are witnessing is what has been foretold by the prophet Joel, ‘In the last days it will be, God declares, that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams.’”

Friends, this is the Church. It is the gift of God, formed by the Holy Spirit. God gifts us his presence and empowers us to give thanks and proclaim his gospel to the world. The Church is not first and foremost something we make, or we create, it is first and foremost something God gives us. And it is by the Holy Spirit, and only by the Holy Spirit, that we might be the Church. A people called from every language and nation. A diverse people who are made one in the gift of the Spirit that has been poured out upon us.

The rest of it, the committees and bylaws and the visioning, all comes secondary. It’s all secondary to the work of God in our midst, the gift of his Spirit, the giftings and talents poured out for each and everyone one of us.

Let us not forget this about ourselves. That the Church is not simply something we are called to make up. We do not decide who comes in or who goes out. And, ultimately, the Church does not depend on our own work or effort. The Church is God’s gift to us. The love we share, the fellowship we have, the grace we receive, the things we learn, those we serve, the lives transformed, this is not our doing but is God’s doing. It is all God’s gift to us.

So on this day let us give thanks. Let us praise God for friendships. Praise God for his love. Praise God for the gift of this beautiful community and place. Because it is God’s work in our midst to bring us together. It is God’s work in our midst to shower us in grace, to bring to us salvation. And what can we do in response but praise his name?

The Scriptures Are About Jesus

You study the Scriptures diligently because you think that in them you have eternal life. These are the very Scriptures that testify about me, yet you refuse to come to me to have life.- John 5:39-40

One of the tasks I’ve set for this year is to think more deeply about how we interpret Scripture. And, by extension, how I ought to interpret Scripture in my sermons. It’s not self-evident how Scripture is meant to be read. Take the Song of Songs, a book of the Bible that doesn’t come up much in sermons. The Song reads like an erotic poem and God is scarcely mentioned. How is that the word of God? In the book of Esther God’s name never comes up. God hardly seems present in the book of Ruth, only invoked two times. If these books are the word of God, for us the people of God, how are we supposed to read them without mutilating their meaning? In other words, was Ruth meant to be read as a story about God’s providence or a story about Ruth’s tenacity? And do we do justice to that wonderful story if we read it as a story about God?

At the risk of digging myself a greater hole, Paul’s own reading of scripture seems quite strange to modern ears. Paul doesn’t care about the historical context of scripture, or what the author may have originally intended. In his letter to the Galatians he argues that because the scripture says God made the promise to Abraham and his “offspring” it must mean the promise is fulfilled in Christ. As Jesus is the singular offspring of Abraham. In another place in the same letter he reads the story of Hagar and Sarah as an allegory about two covenants. Interestingly enough he does not say he’s reading that story as an allegory, he says the story is an allegory. For Paul, it seems, Jesus unlocks the true meaning of Scripture.

In 2 Corinthians he writes, "We are not like Moses, who would put a veil over his face to prevent the Israelites from seeing the end of what was passing away. But their minds were made dull, for to this day the same veil remains when the old covenant is read. It has not been removed, because only in Christ is it taken away. Even to this day when Moses is read, a veil covers their hearts. But whenever anyone turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away. Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And we all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.” (2 Cor. 3:13-18)

All of Scripture refers to Jesus. Whether it foretells Jesus’ coming, explains Jesus’ character, rejoices in Jesus’ work, or tells us what Jesus is going to do, Jesus is the key that unlocks the word of God. That is why Jesus says in John that the scriptures “testify about me.” Jesus and his cross and resurrection were the secret hidden from the foundation of the world, and by that revelation what had come before becomes clear. The prophecies of Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel, are seen to have been about Jesus. David is seen to have been a foreshadowing of what was to come. Jesus brings unity to the Scripture, and makes sense of it for us.

Insofar as Scripture is Scripture, it all points to Jesus.

Belonging: Confession

Belonging: Confession

Call On the Name of the Lord

Romans 10:8b-13

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. March 6th, 2022

When I was serving up north I was sitting in on a Kiwanis meeting. The speaker that day was a representative from a fairly well known Christian charity, I won’t name names. They were there to explain their mission and the effects it has had on those they serve. The focus was on their mission to the Philippines. They told us how they meet the needs of many who are impoverished in the Philippines, and how they share the gospel with them as well. It was all very heartwarming to hear. I only had one issue with them. The Philippines is 87% Christian. By contrast the United States is 63% Christian. The Philippines is among the most Christian nations in the world.

If their goal is to spread the gospel, why are they targeting the Philippines? But this didn’t seem strange to anyone else in the room. They likely were not aware that there are more Christians per capita in the Philippines than in the United States. The assumption was they were another nation who was in need of our help, a different people who needed to hear the words of the gospel.

Incidentally, one of the reasons President McKinley gave to justify the Philippine-American war, back in 1899 was our duty to Christianize the country. Mission boards from all protestant denominations mobilized to divide up the nation and evangelize. There was only one problem: the Philippines was almost entirely Catholic at the time. 

Even today we watch the war in Ukraine. One of Vladimir Putin’s supposed justifications for his actions is the need to protect Russian Orthodox Christians in the separatist regions. But Ukraine is also an Eastern Orthodox nation, with their own national church. Christians fighting Christians. If only we would agree not to fight each other we could do a whole lot for world peace.

It truly is a scandal for the Church that we find ourselves divided. It is one thing to be divided on theological questions. From time to time in Church history there has been differences of opinion and debate is required to sort it out. It is quite another thing to allow ourselves to be divided by race, ethnicity, or nationality. These are precisely the divisions Christ overcomes by grace.

Our epistle reading this morning comes from the latter half of Paul’s letter to the Romans. Here he is addressing an issue that had threatened to split the Church in Rome apart. That is, how can non-Jews be Christian? How do the nations follow the Jewish messiah? Everyone was in agreement gentiles could be saved in principle. The Spirit that was upon them was undeniable. But how they, or I should say we speaking as a gentile myself, were to be incorporated was still a matter of debate.

Some argued that if gentiles were to be saved, we must take on the works of the Law in order to be made part of the covenant people. Which would mean circumcision, a whole new diet, taking Saturdays off, and following a new calendar. Others argued that Jesus fulfilled the Law so Law observance was no longer necessary.

Paul tended to be in the latter camp. He says, “if you confess with your lips that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.” There is no needing to be part of a certain people, or having a certain culture, or dressing a certain way, or being of a certain class. But if you confess with your lips that Jesus is Lord and no one else. That our brother Jesus is the King of Kings. That he holds the reigns of history, that he is in control. And if you believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, and so you do not fear the grave, then you will be saved.

We are the people who hold to a common confession. The confession of Jesus’ Lordship, the confession of Jesus’ resurrection. When we are able to confess these things, we are in a way one. Saying Jesus is Lord, and saying death has been defeated unites us as a people and sets us apart. That is also why Paul goes on to say, "For there is no distinction between Jew and Greek; the same Lord is Lord of all and is generous to all who call on him.”

All who call on the name of the Lord are saved. All. All who confess Jesus as Lord and confess his resurrection are made a new people. No more do we have these distinctions between Jew and Greek, or between filipino and anglo, or between Ukrainian and Russian. Do you confess as I confess? Then we are thicker than any blood. That is how it should be. 

Our Christmas Guest: Reversal

Our Christmas Guest: Reversal

He Who We Thought Was the Guest, is the Host

Luke 1:39-45

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. December 19th, 2021

A few years ago an old friend from undergrad came to visit.  At the time I was up in the UP, so I lived far off the beaten track. It wasn’t that often I would get friends from school visiting me up there.  It’s hard to have an event in, say, Detroit or Chicago and decide to take a jaunt up to the UP to see me.  But he was taking a round trip from Chicago to Boston, and decided to do that the UP way.  

I was excited.  I made sure to get the house spic and span.  I prepared his room for him, cleaning the desk so he had a place to read, putting in new air freshener plug ins, even going through the trouble of dusting.  The only problem was me.  As it turned out I was in no condition to act as a host.  My friend had arrived while I was very sick, and I didn’t even know the half of it at the time. I had been trying to convince myself I was getting better, even when I wasn’t, that my medicine was working, even when it wasn’t.  And as the weekend went on, I got sicker and sicker as I couldn’t keep up with my duties as host.

It wasn’t long before he was suggesting what we might do.  As I felt like I needed to convalesce it became clear that in some manner our roles had reversed.  Though I would have wanted to be the host, directing the entertainment and making sure he was comfortable, I had become the guest who was in need of care.  

A grand theme of Luke’s Gospel is such great reversals.  Mary’s song, that we heard this morning, is all about reversals.  He has cast down the mighty from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly.  He has filled the hungry with good things and the rich he has sent empty away.  So it is with the invasive grace of God.  In Jesus Christ God is literally turning the world upside down, reversing all that we once knew, raising the poor up and bringing the rich down.  Because the one who has come to save us all did not come as a King but as the child of a construction worker, and was revealed not to priests but to shepherds in their fields.  Christmas morning we may wake up to find the whole world transformed.

Think, as well, of the road to Emmaus.  Jesus meets two disciples on the road and they talk about the things that had taken place in Jerusalem.  Jesus uses the Scripture to show that the Messiah was to die, and come back from the dead.  They beg him to come to their place, that they may act as host for this guest they found on the road.  Jesus relents.  But as he comes to dinner he is the one who breaks the bread, and in breaking it his identity is revealed.  Though he was invited as a guest, it became clear that he was the host, the great host.

So too with us as well.  This month we have been talking about hospitality.  How we all await a great and terrific guest, and how we must prepare for that guest by tidying up our hearts through acts of repentance.  But truth be told, we are not so much waiting for a guest as much as we are preparing for the host.  He who we receive as a guest is truly the host.  He who comes as vulnerable is truly invulnerable.  He who seems to be in need is the one who fulfills our every want.  And all that we have been doing, has been as much his doing as our own.  We servants would not have been put to this work of repentance, of cleaning, of preparation were we not called to do so by our great host.

If you have been preparing well this Advent season, you are about to experience the great reversal.  The guest you have prepared to receive will be your host.  The heart-dwelling you’ve prepared may be his throne.  And Jesus is the great host, who will work wonders with what you have given him.  Who can do far more than we can ask or imagine.  

We thought we were in control, but it turns out we were never in control.  It is God who is in control, it is God who takes ownership, God who holds the reigns of the universe, who has prepared a place for us as much as we thought we were preparing a place for him.  And how wonderful that is.  That we may put our hope not in our own work, in our own ability, but in the all powerful and trustworthy God.  As we rapidly approach Christmas Day, lets take this moment to wait in awe, of the great reversal God has brought about, of all he may do for us, of all he has accomplished.

Our Christmas Guest: Repentance

Our Christmas Guest: Repentance

We Must Clean the House

Luke 3:7-18

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. December 12th, 2021

I am not compulsively neat. I get lazy. Books pile around the house. Clothes remain on the floor. Dishes lay in the sink. Food stays in the refrigerator a little too long. But I swear I’m not a slob. I’ll get around to it. I may not be able to pass a white glove inspection, but I can make it look good for an eye test. Few things provoke me more into cleaning, however, than news that guests are arriving.

I hate to have guests over with the house not up to par. There’s something embarrassing if people see me in my natural habitat. I think we all feel this way. We’d all rather our guests not see an unswept floor or a dining room table piled with junk mail. We want to be presentable. Most of the time I get an apology for the state of someone’s house I think to myself “it looks a lot better than my own.” 

But as much as I enjoy a clean house, I do not enjoy cleaning the house. It is something I will put off until I can’t put it off anymore. It’s boring, mindless, work. There’s all sorts of things I’d rather be doing. There’s a reason kids don’t want to clean their room. But it’s necessary work, and we all feel better once it’s done.

This Advent I’ve been preaching with an emphasis on hospitality. Many of us will be inviting guests in our homes this year. They may be friends, they may be family. But all of us ought to be extending that invitation to Jesus to stay with us. And Christmas is the celebration of his arrival. But if we are waiting on Jesus’ arrival that means there is work that needs to get done. We need to prepare a place for the King. And that means cleaning.

John the Baptist is Jesus’ RSVP. He comes to prepare a place for the Lord, he announces God’s arrival to us. And that announcement comes in the form of some hellfire and brimstone preaching. When John the Baptist came to town the local synagogue did not have to worry about the heating bill. He lit a fire wherever he showed up. We get a taste of his old time religion this morning. “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?” No one could accuse John of being seeker sensitive.

He tells them to “bear fruits worthy of repentance” and not to consider themselves worthy because they count Abraham as their ancestor. God can raise up ancestors of Abraham from stones. And in the course of the gospel we will see that. In the parable of Lazarus and the Rich Man the Rich Man may have counted himself an ancestor of Abraham but it is Lazarus who rests in his bosom. God is no respecter of persons. God looks into the heart. 

So how do we prepare ourselves for the King’s visit? We clean our homes through repentance, and bearing fruits worthy of repentance.

John calls the people to repentance. Those who lie, those who cheat, those who hate their neighbor, those who waste their time, those who worship idols, those who fail to follow God’s law, are all called to change their hearts and their minds. See that they are like vipers, see that they have walked down the path of sin and of death. And then turn away. Walk down a new path.

Repentance is first that change of heart, that resolution to walk in a new way. But what good is repentance if nothing comes of it? I think we’ve all known someone who apologized, said they’d change, and then didn’t. As grateful as we may be for the apology, what we really hope for is the change. Repentance is more than a New Years resolution. Repentance bears fruit.

We have a few examples of what this fruit worthy of repentance might look like as different people come up to John asking him what they should do. To the crowds he says that if they have two cloaks they should give one away, and if they have extra food they should give the food away too (is this a bad time to make a plug for our food pantry?).

When the tax collectors ask he tells them to collect no more than what is prescribed. Back in those days there was no IRS, kings would hire out their tax collection. And people who collected taxes were seen as unsavory, because everyone expected they were demanding more than necessary and skimming off the top. John tells them they don’t need to give up their jobs, but they ought to be honest in it. 

Then the soldiers arrive and ask what they should do. John doesn’t tell them they need to give up their jobs either, but they are not to extort anyone with threats, but be content with their wages. The soldiers are not likely Roman soldiers, but soldiers of Herod. And if Herod had a bad reputation so did his soldiers. 

I notice a pattern here in what John demands of those repenting. There is a common thread to the fruit everyone is expected to show. John is not expecting that those who repent flee their jobs and responsibilities. There were some who would say that, the Essenes for instance were a sect of Jews back in those days who did say everyone should run off into the desert with them and wait for the end of days. John tells them they can stay right there and live their lives. But they are supposed to live their lives justly. 

Giving our excess to others is an act of justice. It’s giving people what is due to them. Everyone deserves to be clothed, everyone deserves to be fed. And if we have extra resources we ought to help our neighbors who are in need. Tax Collectors collecting no more than prescribed are acting honestly and going about their jobs in justice. Not taking what does not belong to them. Same goes for the soldiers. They are expected to act with justice, content in their wages, not extorting from others.

What does it mean to bear fruits worthy of repentance then? It means to anticipate life in the Kingdom of God by living with justice now. If, by justice we mean giving people what is due to them. Justice as a verb, not as a noun. Justice that is within our own ability. If we have wronged others, we seek to put it right. If we have stolen, we return. If we have lied, we tell the truth. If we have hurt, we seek to make amends. These are the fruits worthy of repentance. And it is with such fruits that we adorn the house as we clean. These fruits are our ornaments, our ivy and our holly, our lights, our elf on a shelf. By repentance and the fruit of repentance we prepare a place for the Lord, who may lodge in our hearts.

Our Christmas Guest: Itinerary

Our Christmas Guest: Itinerary

Here for Everyone

Luke 3:1-6

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. December 5th, 2021

John the Baptist was a strange man. But then again, all of God’s prophets seem to be strange people. He was the son of Zechariah, one of the priests who served the Temple. But after he is born the first thing we are told about him is that he was out in the wilderness. Strange man that. Other gospel writers tell us he wore camel’s fur and subsisted on a diet of locusts and wild honey. Jesus will say that those who went to see John the Baptist preach didn’t go to see a reed swayed by the wind, a man dressed in fine clothing, but they went to see a prophet. And that’s what he was. A man possessed by the word of God, a man who preached fire. He was, as we hear this morning, a voice crying out in the wilderness. Prepare the way of the Lord.

John the Baptist is the forerunner of Jesus, who is sent to prepare the hearts and minds of the people of Israel for his coming. He is the herald of advent. The divine RSVP. Jesus is coming. The Kingdom is near. Prepare yourselves.

But if John the Baptist is the divine RSPV, where is that RSVP being sent? If he is the herald of Christ’s arrival, where is Christ arriving? Who is this message for? Who’s heart is to be prepared? To whom has salvation come?

We, in fact, get two answers in our scriptures this morning. So it is worth sorting this out.

Our responsive reading is Zechariah’s song, the Benedictus. After John was born Zechariah’s lips were loosed and his burst out in song. That divinely inspired song tells us about God’s plan, and John’s role in it. He sings, “Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for he has looked favorably on his people and redeemed them.” Zechariah, priest of Israel, understands God’s advent as the redemption of the people of Israel. Jesus is a mighty horn of salvation, spoken of by prophets of old, who will defeat the enemies of Israel so they are free to worship without fear. This is God’s mercy to Israel, as was promised to their ancestors. 

John is sent to be a prophet of God, to prepare the people of God for salvation by the forgiveness of their sins. In other words, John’s preaching and baptism will prepare the way for Jesus’ own preaching. He will till the soil, make straight God’s paths. But his preaching is to the people of Israel, and God’s activity is on behalf of the people of Israel.

The gospel reading gives us a different perspective, even though it’s from the same gospel! Here Luke quotes from Isaiah and says, “The voice of one crying out in the wilderness: 'Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight. Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth; and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.’" Luke expressly tells us that the word John was sent to proclaim is not only for one nation, but it concerns a salvation that will be seen by all flesh.

So which is it? Does John preach “knowledge of salvation to God’s people for the forgiveness of their sins?” Or does John preach that “all flesh shall see the salvation of God? Who is on God’s itinerary? Who is Jesus coming to visit? Is Jesus visiting some? Is Jesus visiting all?

The answer is both. 

God brings salvation to Israel, and their salvation is the salvation of the world. God fulfills his promise to Abraham, to bless him and make him a blessing. God fulfills his promise through the prophets, to reign in Jerusalem and bring  peace. God fulfills his promise to bring about the forgiveness of sins and the new heaven and new earth. God fulfills his promise to send us his Son. And in fulfilling those promises to Israel God’s salvation overflows to all. The salvation of Israel is the salvation of the world. And we are made part of that salvation.

So, then, the message of John is a message (in the words of Paul) to the Jew first and also to the greek. It is a message for all who would hear. It is a message even for us today. Especially for us today in this Advent season. Repent. Prepare the way of the Lord. Change your ways. Clean your hearts. Tidy up your house. Be ready for the Lord’s coming. 

For indeed he is coming. He is coming soon. And we await that coming in great joy. The fulfillment of God’s promises to Israel. The fulfillment of God’s promises to us. The salvation that is meant for all. For all who hear the call to repellence. To all who turn from sin and death. And “by the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace."

Our Christmas Guest: Watching

Our Christmas Guest: Watching

Advent is the Season of Waiting

Luke 21:25-36

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. November 28th, 2021

As we are just wrapping up the month of November I feel the need to speak prophetically into our nation’s perpetual Culture Wars. I don’t like to involve myself in the culture war lightly. I know that there are firmly held convictions from all camps, that we can get a little hot headed, and any intervention has to be carefully planned and from a pastoral heart. But I can’t help it, I must open my mouth. I can’t hold it in any longer. I need to speak out against the War on Advent.

I was in Meijer just a few days after Halloween, we hadn’t even gotten to Thanksgiving yet, and they were already putting the Christmas aisle together. I saw Christmas trees up a week after Halloween.   

The Hallmark Channel started playing their Christmas movies before Halloween.  They need to start that early because they have produced forty one movies for this year alone, not counting movies from previous years.  Someone needs to remind Hallmark executives that there are twelve days of Christmas.  

Every year Christmas music and Christmas specials start earlier and earlier.  Every year we stray further and further from God’s light.

I am only half joking.

We have a strong desire to race to Christmas, and stores have a strong desire to make the Christmas shopping season last as long as possible. But if we move too quickly to Christmas, we will skip over Advent which is a beautiful season in its own right. In fact, it is perhaps my favorite season. I adore the lighting of candles, the pondering over the word, the hushed yearning and anxious anticipation.  

Advent also has a deeper spiritual significance because Advent is the season of our age. Advent is a season about our waiting, our yearning, our standing at attention. It is the season where we prepare ourselves and our house to receive the Christ child. And we need to learn how to wait.

This morning Jesus counsels his disciples to wait for his return, to wait for his arrival, to wait for Christmas.  

Jesus’ teaching comes toward the end of Luke’s Gospel, as he and his disciples are walking among the Temple in Jerusalem. His disciples had been marveling at the Temple and its stones, but Jesus warned them that the Temple was soon to be destroyed. This sparked a teaching on the end of the age, and the return of Jesus. In the passage we heard Jesus talks about what must take place before Christ returns. He uses imagery from throughout the Old Testament, imagery like signs in the sun and moon and stars, people fainting in fear, distress of nations. This imagery points to the undoing of the present order of things, the end of this present age before the birth of a new. When this happens we are not supposed to fear, but to take courage and raise our heads, because it is a sign that Christ is about to return, and our redemption, our vindication, is near.

In the meantime, we are told, “watch yourselves lest your hearts be weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the cares of this life, and that day come upon you suddenly like a trap.”

Jesus is coming, and he is coming soon. Though his coming is delayed from our perspective, he does not tarry, and he will surely return. We are to live each day expecting his arrival, prepared to receive the King.

When I know I’m about to have a guest, I immediately get to work. I clean the kitchen, I prepare the guest room, I sweep the floors, vacuum the carpet, I set my books back in their proper place (those books have an unfortunate tendency to migrate), I make sure we have ample food in the house, and all the while I look out my window waiting to see if the guest has yet to arrive, if I still have some more time. I’m sure you all know some of the hustle and bustle that goes on upon receiving a guest, perhaps you’ll be doing that soon as Christmas nears.

It is no different for the return of Jesus, our Christmas guest. We do not know when he will return. But we do know that he expects us to be ready. He expects a guest room to have been prepared, he expects ample provisions, and he expects us to be awake and alert. 

The opposite of being awake, alert, and ready, is being “weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the cares of life.” The word here translated “dissipation” means, most literally, a hangover. Dissipation is the experience of having wasted ones time and resources, the pain of reckless living. Drunkenness is a momentary pleasure, but it leads to dissipation, and loss of memory, loss of control. A lack of sense. Lives of dissipation and drunkenness are lives of faithlessness. That is to say, lives that are determined by business as usual in the world’s terms, not in terms of faithful living as Jesus would have us live. The foolish rich man lived a life of dissipation when, having gained a tremendous harvest built two barns only to discover his life was required of him that night. The rich man, who ignored Lazarus at his gate lived a life of dissipation and drunkenness because he ignored Lazarus’ plight.  But the Good Samaritan made right use of his resources, and of his time. Unlike the Priest and Levite, he was alert and aware, and cared for the man who was beside the road, made a place for him in his life. He, in other words, took the time to care for his Christmas guest.

This Advent we are called to prepare a place for Jesus, to make room for the one who was born in a manger. The first step in making room, in preparing a place for him, is alertness. Resolving not to live like business as usual, but to live knowing that at any moment Christ may call us, at any moment Christ may return to us, so living that we may not be caught drunk, that we may not be caught hungover, or despairing. We must be like the Martin the Cobbler in Leo Tolstoy’s famous short story Where Love is, God is. Martin was promised a divine visitation, and so he set up all day waiting for God to arrive. Instead he entertained a neighbor shoveling snow with warm food and the gospel, clothed a young woman stuck out in the cold, and resolved a dispute between a young man and an older woman. That night, he wondered why God had not visited him, only to discover that God had visited him in the neighbor, the woman, and the boy. We must be like Martin the Cobbler, that is fully prepared and ready to receive Jesus with joy however we may receive him.

Christ the King

Christ the King

Christ’s Kingdom is Not of This World

John 18:33-37

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. December 5th, 2021

Today is Christ the King Sunday, the last Sunday of the Church year. This particular Sunday may seem stranger than most. We are Americans after all, we have no kings. And saying Jesus is King threatens to get fairly political. If Jesus is King that may mean someone else is not. But we just heard this morning that Jesus Christ is, "the faithful witness, the firstborn of the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth.” This is a truth we can’t simply ignore. Jesus Christ is King of all the earth. He rules over all the kings of the earth. “And made us to be a kingdom, priests serving his God and Father, to him be glory and dominion forever and ever.” What does any of this mean?

The earliest creed of the Church is not the Apostles’ Creed. The earliest creed is simply “Jesus is Lord.” Lordship, rule, sovereignty, is reserved to Jesus alone. He who died and lives forevermore. He who calls us by his grace. This is no small thing. It is central to the good news. It tells us something about the world we live in, but it also tells us something about the life to which we are called.

Our gospel reading this morning gives us an opportunity to explore Christ’s kingship because in it stands a confrontation between Jesus and an earthly ruler. Pontius Pilate was a governor sent from Rome to bring peace to the unruly city of Jerusalem. He was born to a noble family, and this meant he was born to conquer and to rule. His whole upbringing was centered around athletics, military prowess, and politics. He was some of the best Rome had to offer, the very image of the sort of man bred to run an empire. He knew he held the power of life and death and knew how to wield it. 

Across from Pilate stands Jesus, a carpenter’s son from Nazareth. By this point he has been beaten into a mess. He was a pitiful figure bleeding over Pilate’s headquarters. As much as we might imagine Pilate did not want to put up with this man, the local authorities were forcing his hand. It was the Passover, the Jewish feast of liberation. And this man, so they claimed, threatened to upset the fragile peace Pilate had established.

So Pilate asks him, “Are you the King of the Jews?”

Jesus simply responds, "Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?”

Pilate gets a little impatient. "I am not a Jew, am I? Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me. What have you done?”

Jesus then answers the question, "My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here.”

Now here we might think we have an answer to what it means to say Jesus is King. Jesus is a spiritual King. He has a spiritual Kingdom that floats effervescently over reality, and his subjects are those who accept him and his teaching into their hearts. His kingship is not a public thing, but a private thing. But Pilate, as I said, was a man born to rule. He could recognize a king. And responds, “So, you are a king, then?” 

When we hear Jesus say, “My Kingdom is not from this world” we need to ask what Jesus means by world. Because throughout John’s gospel world has a different meaning than simply this rock we call earth. Jesus says in another place “  The world cannot hate you, but it hates me because I testify that its works are evil.” And “fear not, I have overcome the world.” He doesn’t mean “everyone” when he talks about the world. And he doesn’t mean “everything on this rock.” But he means a sphere of existence that is dominated by Satan, by the enemy. Jesus overcomes the world, meaning he overcomes the devil. His kingdom is not of this world not because his Kingdom is spiritual and private. But because his kingdom is not like earthly kingdoms.

He clarifies, “You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.”

Jesus is King, and he is truly ruler of the Kings of the earth as we heard from the Book of Revelation. But he is not a worldly king, and he is not a king in the sense that Pilate ruled as a King. Pilate ruled by force. Jesus rules in love. Pilate ruled with fear. Jesus rules in peace. Pilate did not care what was true or false, only what he could accomplish. Jesus rules in truth, and all who listen to the truth listen to his voice.

Pilate rules with armies of soldiers, with centurions ready to go on the attack. Jesus rules not with armies but from his cross. It’s on his cross that he is given a crown, of thorns. Is given a robe. Is given a throne, the very cross on which he is nailed. And above his head is written in three languages, “Jesus Christ, King of the Jews.” Jesus is truly King. But in a different way than Pilate. Not because he is private and spiritual, but because he is love and forgiveness. 

So if we are those who proclaim “Jesus is Lord” and accept him as the true King over all the Kings of the earth that means that we follow him. We follow him in his teaching, and we follow him in his example. We forgive as he forgave. We give as he gave. We seek to mend what has gone wrong. We seek to live peaceably with all. We hope beyond hope. We share love with all who come across our path. Because Jesus is our King, and that is what subjects of the King are expected to do. And we can do these things not simply on our own power, but because Jesus has “overcome the world.” Because Jesus has won the victory on our behalf. Because he has shown us the way. And he lives, and reigns forever. There is no stronghold he cannot tear down. There is no force that can stand in his way. He has shown us the way of life and peace. And beckons us to follow. 

So let us follow our king.

Hope: Presumption

Hope: Presumption

Hope in What We Do Not See

1 Samuel 1:4-20

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. November 14th, 2021

Hannah was a woman with no future. She was the beloved wife of Elkanah. She received the double portion of the sacrifice. But unlike Elkanah’s other wife Peninnah the Lord had closed her womb. And, in those days, that was a matter of shame. She longed to have a child of her own, a son to carry on the family lineage. That is, that she would have a future.

Eli was the priest at Shiloh. In those days the Ark of the Covenant was placed at the shrine at Shiloh. It was Eli’s duty to perform the appropriate rites and sacrifices. He was a man of high honor because of this service. He also appeared to have a future. Two sons who would succeed him when he died. The line that began in Aaron the first priest would continue through Eli and his sons. 

This is the story of a woman without a future, and a man with a future. And how faith and hope make all the difference.

Hannah’s husband Elkanah would go to Shiloh once a year to offer sacrifice. It was on one of these journeys that Hannah approached the Tabernacle and prayed before the Lord. She was deeply distressed and weeping bitterly. She so longed to have a child of her own she prayed, “O LORD of hosts, if only you will look on the misery of your servant, and remember me, and not forget your servant, but will give to your servant a male child, then I will set him before you as a nazirite until the day of his death. He shall drink neither wine nor intoxicants, and no razor shall touch his head.” A nazirite was a vow that a man could take in different circumstances. Say when they’re going off to battle, or preparing for some great task. To offer up a child to live as a nazirite was a different matter, it was not a vow someone took on for life. She so longed to have a son that she was offering to give him up to the Lord in the most extreme way.

While she was praying and weeping Eli saw her. Her mouth moved but no sound came out. He did not recognize a woman in earnest and serious prayer. He mistook her for being drunk. (Not the last time godly women and men would be mistaken for drunkenness when they are in prayer). Eli, the great priest, the man with the past and the man with the future, cannot recognize a woman at prayer. How odd! But very telling. 

He says, "How long will you make a drunken spectacle of yourself? Put away your wine.”

Hannah replies, “"No, my lord, I am a woman deeply troubled; I have drunk neither wine nor strong drink, but I have been pouring out my soul before the LORD.  Do not regard your servant as a worthless woman, for I have been speaking out of my great anxiety and vexation all this time.”

Eli lets her go with a blessing. And Hannah left with her distress dissipated.

Hannah, we are told, would conceive and bear a son. A son named Samuel, who she gave up to live at Shiloh and serve with Eli. The woman who was childless bore a son. The woman who feared she had no future had her hope fulfilled. “The bows of the mighty are broken, but the feeble gird on strength.” She sings.

But that is only half of our story. The other half concerns Eli.

Eli, the priest who mistook prayer for drunkenness had two sons, and they were poor priests. They would take the choice portions of the sacrifice and keep them for themselves. They would even threaten to take them by force. In this way they took what belonged to God and kept it for themselves. God chose to take their future away from them. And he cut off that priestly line. Though they were born in privilege and expected to have a future because of it, God took it away. The line of Levi would be given to someone else.

Here we learn something very important about hope. Hope as a virtue belongs to those who live their life on the way. We all await a future. Sometimes that future is easier to see. Other times that future is harder to see. But in either case the future is not our own. It is a gift of God. Hope is how we live in expectation for that future, no matter how bad things may seem. Knowing we are not there yet, knowing God has made promises. 

Hannah is in dire straits. It is easy for her, as it was for Naomi, as it was for Mary and Martha, to simply give up. To give in to her despair. To say “the future I thought I’d have, God has taken away from me.” But instead she perseveres. Trusting in God’s promises and grace. She asks, and she receives. She hopes beyond hope, and she finds. Eli’s sons, on the other hand, assume they’ve already made it. They presume upon God’s grace and take whatever they want. They do not hope, they presume. And because they have failed to hope in the promises of God, God revokes those promises.

So too for us today. Hope is a gift of God. By hope we do not give into despair, assuming God will not fulfill the promise of salvation, that God will not give us life. But also by hope we do not assume we have already made it. That we do not need God. That we are not, in every day, in every way, dependent on God and his grace. Jesus said he did not come to save the righteous but sinners. When he said that he warned us about the dangers of presumption. He called us to cleave in hope.

So let us cleave in hope. Knowing no matter how dark the future may seem, no matter how absent the future may appear to be, God fulfills his promises. And no matter how good things may seem, no matter how we feel we have done well, God promises ever more than we can imagine.

Hope: Ruth

Hope: Ruth

God Provides a Future

Ruth 3:1-5, 4:13-17

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. November 7th, 2021

Naomi was a woman without a future. When the famine hit, she and her husband Elimelech left Bethlehem for greener pastures in Moab, a gentile region. There her two sons married Moabite women.  Though they lived as strangers in Moab, things were well. Until Elimelech died. And then both of Naomi’s sons in law also passed away. She was left with two daughters in law, relatives by marriage, Orpah and Ruth.

When she heard that God had blessed Bethlehem with good harvests again, she set out to return. On her way back she stopped and told Ruth and Orpah to return to their mothers house, that God might bless them there as they had blessed her. Orpah obeys. Ruth refuses. Ruth famously says, “Where you go I will go, and where you lodge I will lodge, your people shall be my people, and your God my God; where you die I will die, and there will I be buried. May the LORD do so to me and more also if even death parts me from you.” Well, who is going to say no to that?

So Naomi returns to Bethlehem with Ruth by her side. Two women without a future. Naomi tells the women of Bethlehem that her name is no longer “Naomi.” She wants to be called Mara. Mara means bitter. She is Bitter because “the Lord has dealt very bitterly with me. I went away fill, and the LORD has brought me back empty. Why call me Naomi, when the LORD has afflicted me and the Almighty has brought calamity upon me?” 

In those days a woman’s place in society was secured by the man to which they belonged. Without “belonging” to a man they had no standing. A young woman belonged to her father and his family. A married woman belonged to her husband and his family. A widow was in a very precarious situation. If no one in the broader family would take her in, she might have no one to protect or care for her. She might be left totally vulnerable. This is why the early Church put so much emphasis on caring for the orphan and the widow. Orphans and widows have no one to care for them. But the Church could be their family.

So this is Naomi’s sad state: her husband is dead as are her sons. All who remains with her is a foreigner, Ruth, whose situation is also precarious. Will she be accepted as a member of Israel? Can she find someone to take her in? Is there a future for Ruth and Naomi in Bethlehem? Or is there no future for them at all? Are they left to struggle to get by?

The was also a law in those days that allowed the resident alien and poor to glean the fields after the harvest. So Naomi sent Ruth to go out and glean for them that they might have something to eat. While she was out in the field a man by the name of Boaz noticed her. Remarkably he took Ruth under his wing, told her to follow the harvesters directly, to not to go any other field, and that he would do all he could to protect her and make sure she was well supplied. When Ruth went home with more than enough food and told Naomi what had happened, Naomi explained to Ruth that Boaz was a member of the family. He could be the one to take them in. He could be their kindred redeemer.

That is what brings us to today’s reading. Naomi sees the possibility of a future, but it relies on the goodwill of Boaz and the promptings of God. He tells Ruth to enter the threshing floor after he was well satisfied with food and drink. And while he’s asleep, lay down at his feet. And then, explain her situation and ask him to marry her. Remarkably, shockingly, Boaz agrees to that arrangement on the condition that a man with a greater right to redeem her allows for it. Which he does.

Ruth, and Naomi, who at first seemed to have no future, are now given a future. And a remarkable one. Because Ruth and Boaz don’t simply settle down. It’s not just that Naomi has a grandchild in her old age. But that child’s name is Obed. And Obed was the father of Jesse. And Jesse the father of King David. And, as Paul Harvey might say, now you know...the rest of the story.

Naomi and Ruth were women without a future, without a place. It would have been easy for them to give up. Naomi, at one point, sounds like she is there. But their persistence meets God’s providence. If Ruth had given up there would be no Obed. If there were no Obed there would be no David. No David there is no line that leads, ultimately to Jesus. In a very real sense, Jesus is born because Naomi and Ruth have hope. Hope in a future they cannot see. Hope in a future that seems to have been lost. A hope beyond hope. But it is granted to them.

Paul says we do not hope in what we see. Hope in what is seen is not hope. But we hope in what is unseen. That is what makes hope such a gift from God. It is our trust and reliance in God to give us the future that he has promised. Ruth and Naomi are two such people who practice that hope when all else seems lost. A hope God would have for each and every one of us no matter how dark the future might seem. 

All Saints: Hope

Hope: All Saints

Jesus is the Resurrection

John 11:32-44

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. October 31st, 2021

Jesus has come on the scene. He’s answered Mary and Martha’s summons, but he’s four days late. Their brother, Jesus’ dear friend Lazarus, is already dead. He is already buried. His body wrapped in linen and the stone rolled in front of his tomb. His body has begun to stink. It is over. But Mary and Martha are, nevertheless, happy to see their old friend and teacher in a time of grief.

“Lord,” Mary says kneeling before Jesus, “if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” There is sorrow in these words, but also an implicit faith. I’ve seen you heal, Lord. I’ve seen you work wonders. If you were able to get here in time my brother would have been fine. But I understand how things are. How busy you can get. How hard it is to travel. The danger that besets you at all sides. The danger you have put yourself in even showing up today, here in Judaea, where the religious authorities want you dead. 

“Where have you laid him?” Jesus asks. 

“Lord, come and see.” 

Jesus weeps. Perhaps he weeps because he knows what he is going to do and he knows it will anger the religious authorities, and he knows it will lead to his death. Perhaps he weeps at the human condition. The love Mary, Martha, and the others have shown. The death that Lazarus was forced to undergo. The condition he has come to save us from. Maybe he weeps for both reasons. Our tears don’t always have any one reason why they flow. But those around him say, “See how he loved him!” 

They assume Jesus wants to see the tomb so that he can pay his respects. That he might weep and grieve as they all did. But others begin to question him saying, “Could not he who opened the yes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?”

It’s true Jesus had delayed. And if he showed up before Lazarus died he would have been healed. But God does not always operate on our time, I’m sure we’ve all experienced that. Sometimes God waits to perform something even greater. Sometimes God says “no” because there is something else in store.

In this case Jesus wants to show the meaning of those words he told Martha as he entered Bethany. “I am the resurrection and the life, He who believes in me, even if he dies, will come to life. And everyone who is alive and believes in me, shall never die at all…”

Jesus arrives at the grave and orders them to take away the stone. “Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days.” Martha tells him. But he is undeterred. “Did I not tell you that if yo believed, you would see the glory of God?” Well, no one is going to say no to Jesus. So they roll the stone away and we can imagine the stench that emanates from the cave. The body may have been covered in linen and perfumes and spices, but ancient Jews didn’t embalm bodies the way we do today. Or the way Egyptians did back then. Decomposition came on fast.

But Jesus looked up to the sky and prayed. “Father, I thank you for having heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me.” He then cries into the grave with a loud voice, “Lazarus! Come out!”

And there is a long pause.

Today is Halloween. A day for horror, the macabre, the grotesque. A day that we expose ourselves a little bit to our fear of death. And also a day for fun and candy. But it seems as good a day as any to point out what doesn’t happen here, and what we might expect to happen here. This account has all the makings of a good horror story. A mad scientist may take science too far and bring his bride back from the dead. A necromancer might raise the dead, but they are no longer the same person, no longer what they seem. Or Lazarus might burst out of the grave with a taste for flesh, living on the life of others to sustain his undead half-life. Horror is full of stories that take us to the brink of our fear of death, our fear of the uncanny. It plays on our hopes, our desire for a happy ending. Someone seeks to overcome death, but is tragically overcome by certain trade offs that are necessary. In horror, time and time again, death has the final say.

But Jesus is the resurrection, and he is life, and in his raising Lazarus he proves it. There is no trade off. There is no uncanny half-life of a man who must feed off of the life of the others. The Lazarus who walks out of the tomb at Jesus’ beckoning is the same Lazarus who grew up with Mary and Martha, the same Lazarus who ate with Jesus and sat at his feet. The same Lazarus who met his death. It is this Lazarus who lives. And he lives because Jesus is resurrection, and he is life, and all who believe in him may know that life.

What Jesus accomplishes seems too good to be true. A real overcoming of death. A real life that is eternal. And what Jesus promises seems to good to be true as well: that we might know his victory. That we too may experience the life that is stronger than death. That on the last day we too may be raised. But it is with this hope that we are confronted with this morning. Contrary to all the stories of horror that imbue our culture: there is no trade off. Death does not have the final say. There is life. Life eternal. And this life comes from Christ.

Halloween may be a holiday for the macabre, but its origins are Christian. That is, before it became secularized and taken over by Hollywood and candy companies. Halloween is All Hallow’s Eve, or, the Eve of All Saints. As there is a Christmas Eve, there is also an All Saints Eve. And on this day we are given opportunity to remember those saints who have gone before us. We are also given opportunity to give thanks to God, not only for their lives and all the difference they’ve made for us. We can give thanks to God for the Life. The Life those who have gone before us know in its fullness. The life we too are offered. That peace, that joy, that comfort in the Spirit. And most importantly that hope. That hope that is stronger than death. That hope against hope in the Resurrection and the Life.

Things Fall Apart: Resurrection

Things Fall Apart: Resurrection

If You Want to Know What God Plan to do, Look to the Cross

Job 42:1-6, 10-17

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. October 24th, 2021

Truth be told the ending of the Book of Job has always troubled me. God never lets Job in to his wager with the Satan. God vindicates Job in the presence of his friends, saying that he spoke rightly while they didn’t. But it’s unclear why Job should be in the right given the accusations he makes against God. God, making up for the loss of his family and household, restores his fortune and gives him double the property he had before. He gives Job new children, including daughters that are more beautiful than any in the land.

It’s a fairy tale ending, but it rings very hollow to me. The poet who wrote Job is very careful, so I have to imagine we are meant to think this is a hollow ending. Imagine yourself in Job’s shoes, you’ve lost everything. Your children all died when the roof fell in on them during a feast. Would being given more children make up for the loss of the first in any way? Who thinks gaining one loved one over another is a “restoration”? God gives Job a lot of gifts, but the pains and griefs of the evils that were inflicted remain with him. These are sufferings that can never go away. Seemingly inflicted on a mere wager.

First of all, I’m not sure we should take the frame story all that literally. For one, it anthropomorphizes God in a way that God’s appearance in the whirlwind does not. By anthropomorphize I mean make God out to be like a human being. God is Spirit, God does not act like we act. God does not have heavenly council with prosecuting attorneys. So the story is in some way a fable, but a fable meant to make a point for us. I imagine it’s there to explain to us that Job truly is innocent. God’s speech in the whirlwind seems pretty clear about our inability to understand such heavenly councils to begin with.

But I think the question of Job’s “restoration” and whether he is truly restored is far more difficult. God certainly blesses Job, and these blessings are meant to make up for the losses incurred. But it’s not a truly happy ending, because what was lost is not restored.

It is here that I want to step beyond Job in discussing the problem of evil, and how God acts. Oftentimes when we are troubled by the problem of evil, how a good God could allow evil things to happen in the world, we focus on God’s creation. How it is that God could have created a world where everything changes. Because change entails loss, it entails suffering. How could God have made a world full of death? And in such a world how can God allow injustice and unnecessary suffering? One thinks of Hurricane Ida, or other such natural disasters that ended in loss of life.  

In the Book of Job the problem of evil is mostly on this horizon, though I think it hints at how a satisfactory answer cannot be found if we limit ourselves to looking at God’s actions in creation. The real answer the Bible provides to the problem of evil is in the New Testament. Job is not the only biblical figure to face great evil with great patience despite being innocent. Jesus, too, is innocent and is tortured. Jesus is innocent and he is put to death.

But Jesus’ denouement is very different than Job’s. On the third day the sinless and innocent Jesus of Nazareth is resurrected. He is given new life on Easter morn. This answer to the problem of evil, is not found in God’s creative power active each and every day, this answer to the problem of evil is found in God’s decisive and liberatory grace, that overcomes the powers of chaos and evil, and that will come to full victory at the end of this evil age.

The answer we find in the New Testament, then, is resurrection. This world is overrun by evils. By powers and principalities, murderous spirits, decadent vices, and great disaster. This truly is an evil age in revolt against God. All is not right with the world. But God is not satisfied to leave us to our fates, to leave us in bondage to sin and to the corruption of the flesh. God sends us his Son that we might share in the power of his resurrection, and that by his grace he might make all things new. That what was once lost, may come back. That Job might be fully restored, not in having received new children, but in seeing his old children again.

What is the answer then? Why do bad things happen to good people? Why won’t God feed the poor in Africa or prevent needless suffering? Frankly, that’s kinda passing the buck isn’t it? I’m sure God might ask us the same question. But more to the point, God intends to wipe out all evil. God intends to bring resurrection. If we want to know what God’s plan is, we need only look at the Cross.

Things Fall Apart: The Answer

Things Fall Apart: The Answer

In the Presence of God Questions Fade Away

Job 38:1-7, 34-41

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. October 17th, 2021

They told him it couldn’t be done. Job has spent the majority of the book outlining his case against God. How he was an innocent man, how God subjected him to grievous evil unjustly. How God even lets the wicked lead long lives of great success. He spoke of his fear in that encounter, that God would simply overwhelm him and not bring a satisfactory answer. But his friends told him God does not answer mortals. When Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar cannot answer Job, Elihu steps up the plate and seeks to step in as mediator. As God’s advocate he tells Job that he has no standing, does not know how he may have offended the Lord, and furthermore God would not answer him.  

When has God ever appeared at the call of a mortal? Why would God waste his time with a sinner? Is the matter not clear? Isn’t Job clearly full of pride, and full of lies?  And yet, miraculously, shockingly, suddenly, God appears in the storm. “Who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge? Brace yourself like a man; I will question you, and you will answer me.”

Job’s request has been answered. God has accepted his challenge, and will now stand for trial. Now Job may be vindicated, his righteousness settled.  But God’s speeches are the most difficult and perplexing parts of the book. God does not answer Job directly. Instead, God asks a series of questions. Questions about the creation of the world, the location of the storehouses of snow, the source of the rain, the power that binds the constellations. Questions about the birth of animals and their sustenance. In other words, God asks Job if he can do better. Does Job have the wisdom that created the heavens and the earth? Can Job judge the wicked and bind chaos? If Job is capable God will bow to his wisdom. But of course Job cannot do these things, as we cannot.

What are we to make of this response of God? Is God really answering Job’s accusations? Or is God just boasting? Is God overawing Job just as Job had feared?

I am suggesting there are two things going on here. The first is pretty clear on a surface reading: God is questioning Job’s knowledge of the matter. Job does not know God’s justice, or how God exerts justice. Job only knows human justice which is not exactly God’s justice. God is not bound by our laws and procedures. Job, in other words, has no standing before God. This is important because it means Job’s vindication will not come at God’s expense. 

But I think the second thing that is going on here is more important for us this morning. While God is undermining Job’s case, he is also giving Job an answer. In offering his line of questioning God is describing himself through his actions. Who is God? God is the one who binds the Pleiades and Orion. God is the one who walks along the deep. God is the one who smashes the head of Leviathan. God is the one who makes sure the lions have something to eat. God is the one who gives the wicked their due.  God is the one who holds off the forces of chaos. It is this God that Job has met face to face in the whirlwind.  

What is Job’s answer to his accusation? The answer is the face of God. The God who holds all things in life, who fights evil, who will send his Son for our sake. In the presence of God comes the peace that surpasses all understanding. In the presence of God all our complaints are put in a new context. In the presence of God we are filled with hope.

God describes himself in poetry that we might have sense of the presence that Job knew in the whirlwind. That in his self-description we may have some sense of the one in whom we can trust, the one who we know in Jesus Christ. God does not give an answer because God does not need to be justified in his actions. But when we attend to God we find the answer that is deeper than our own questions.

The answer Job receives may not be entirely satisfying. It is more of a promise than an answer, more of an attempt to undercut his complaint than to provide any reason. But we already knew that God is too big for our comprehension, that human attempts to comprehend God’s workings can only limit him. And so we find ourselves embraced by the mystery, overcome by the presence. And in his presence all such questions fade away.

Things Fall Apart: Patience

Things Fall Apart: Big Enough

We Do Not Justify God, God Justifies Us

Job 23:1-9, 16-17

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. October 10th, 2021

Our discipleship can be greatly hampered by images of God that are just plain wrong. J.B. Phillips, bible translator and Church of England clergyman wrote a short book in 1953 that is still just as relevant today called Your God is Too Small where he interrogates these false conceptions of God and reveals them for what they are, too small to matter. Not worth the faith we put in them. One example of these small gods is God the Resident Policeman who patrols the world and makes sure all the baddies get their due. God the Parental Hangover, the daddy we never had. Or maybe God is too painted by the daddy we did have and did not like. There’s God the meek and mild who would never judge us. God the Cosmic Bosom who is only there to comfort us in troubling times but not draw us to holiness. And so on and so on I think you get the picture.

All of these images of God are true in their way. God is meek and mild, we know that because Jesus was meek. But that meekness does not preclude judgment. God is our Father, but that doesn’t mean God is like human Fathers. God is sovereign, but God doesn’t police each and every instance. There is free will after all. What makes them too small is they take an aspect of God’s character, and make that all of God’s character. But the biblical picture of God is far more than just being a daddy or being a police officer. And we do ourselves great harm when we don’t pay attention to all that God is.  

The Book of Job opens us up to God’s great mystery, even in the face of evil.  The God of Job is by no means small, he is far beyond our conception or reckoning. Most of the book concerns debates over God’s character, how God works in the world, and whether God can be at fault in the case of Job the good man who has had evil done to him.  

When we left off last week Job has lost his family, household, and farm. He has been covered in sores and ulcers. He now resides on a dung hill in the ashes. His wife told him to give up on his integrity and curse God and die. He has refused, and he did not sin. Since then he was visited by three friends: Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar. When they arrived they could hardly recognize him and sat down and wept with him. They sat on the ground for a whole week and wouldn’t say a word because of how great his suffering was. They were great friends until they opened their mouths.

Finally, Job’s patience seems to wane when he opens his mouth and curses the day of his birth.  He demands to know why he has lived to suffer so much, why he could not have died at birth that he might rest with the kings in the grave. He accuses God of hedging him in, and hiding from him the way that leads to life. This outburst greatly disturbs Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar. The majority of the book recounts their debate with Job. Job insists that he is innocent, that he has done no wrong, and that God has acted unjustly. He wishes his concerns could be brought to trial, that God would not simply overawe him with terror, and that he would be vindicated.

  His friends, on the other hand, seek to justify God. Job could not possibly be innocent, because this great evil has befallen him. He must, in some way, deserve it. He must have committed some grave sin. Perhaps he has ignored the pleas of the poor, or plundered ill gotten gains. Instead of consoling Job they begin to attack him. In their zeal for defending the Lord, they forget their responsibility as friends to console the aggrieved. They add to Job’s sufferings.

Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar have a God that is too small. Their God is the Cosmic Accountant who makes sure to rightly balance our debts, or our sins, with our credits, or our merits. Since it is so, Job must deserve what he suffers, and God is vindicated. But as we will see, it is not the friends who are vindicated, and God judges that in labeling him a cosmic accountant they have spoke wrongly of him. Unlike his servant Job, who has spoken rightly this whole time.

This temptation to try and justify God by making him small is a temptation that remains with us today. When we confront injustices or great suffering it can make us insecure in our faith, and when we are insecure in our faith we seek to justify God. We try to make sense of the suffering, and how it fits God’s plan. In the case of Job’s three friends that meant blaming the victim. Today it might mean trying to diminish God, making it out like he can’t help combatting evil. Or it might mean saying that God is helpless to combat evil because evil is the necessary opposite of good. Which puts God in a peculiarly tight spot and makes us wonder what heaven must be like. Or it might mean claiming that evil will eventually come out in the wash, that it will all make sense by and by. In these ways we limit God, we try to make sense of God’s actions in our own limited systems of logic. But the consequence is making God too small, and hurting others or ourselves.

Truth be told, God doesn’t need us to justify his actions.  We need God to justify us.  The desire to make sense of God, to explain God, to justify God, misses who God is.  God is big enough to take criticism. God is big enough to hear our laments. God is big enough to even take the blame. Because God is big enough to overcome all evil.  

Here is the great evil of making God small, of seeking to justify God: Grace is not rational. Grace cannot be justified. It is grace that justifies. And the God who is the cosmic accountant has no room for grace. The God who makes evil come out in the wash does not act in grace. Grace exceeds all calculation. Grace cannot be rationalized, has no utility, and most importantly is not fair. But God is big enough to be graceful. So we should be faithful enough to trust in his grace, and not make him out to be small.

Things Fall Apart: Patience

Things Fall Apart: Patience

Patience is Enduring Evil

Job 1:1, 2:1-10

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. October 3rd, 2021

One day I was in Sault Ste. Marie up in the Upper Peninsula with a friend and we were walking around downtown. As we were crossing through a parking lot I noticed a familiar red car. It was a 1990 Buick LeSabre. Usually I’m not good at recognizing cars by their make and year but I could recognize this one because I used to have it, and with a quick inspection I could tell it was certainly mine. On the right front tire you could see damage from the time my tire exploded on the freeway.

The summer I first got that car I grew very sick. I would bloat, I would get nauseous, and I barely ate. By the time Labor Day rolled around and I had to be to school for my senior year, I couldn’t eat a thing. The morning I had packed up to go, I was abjectly miserable. Rather than taking a trip to the hospital and delaying my semester, I bullheadedly got in the car with a bottle of pepto bismol in my cup holder.

The whole drive down I could feel the vibration in my steering wheel, but I did not think much of it because I was so focused on how sick I was. It wasn’t until I got pass Milwaukee that the wheel blew. Right there, on the free way. In a car full of books and clothing and furniture. All of it covering the spare tire and jack. And I was barely functional as is.

That was the beginning of one of the worst years of my life, as I did not fully recover that whole senior year. I would spent a month in starvation mode. I would grow so weak I couldn’t walk across campus. I would have to defend my senior thesis while sick. When I saw my old car in the parking lot in Sault Ste. Marie these memories came flooding back. And while I was glad the car was still in use, I was glad I wasn’t the one using it.

I don’t think there’s anyone in this life who does not hit a season where everything seems to be falling apart. Perhaps you’re stuck with a grave illness. My illness was not deadly, but it was certainly all encompassing and painful. And when you’re sick like that it colors everything. Perhaps you’ve lost a loved one, or many in a short span of time. Perhaps you are handling family strife, strife at work, or financial difficulties. And no matter how much you try to pick yourself up it seems like there’s something else waiting to throw you back down. And you may wonder, “why?” “Why is this happening to me?” Or maybe even, “why is God doing this?”

The Book of Job is about a man who seeks an answer to the question “why?” And more so, seeks his vindication before God. We will be covering the Book of Job through the month of October. Job is an intensely difficult book, many well-meaning interpreters of scripture run aground on its shoals, so I will do my best to do justice to the book and how it helps us make sense of our own lives. But more than that, I want to make sense of how it points beyond itself to Jesus Christ. It goes without saying that I feel a great burden discussing Job, as the book deals with weighty matters. So I hope by God’s grace what I say might make sense, and would align with what the book says. Today I am going to talk about the patience of Job.

The Book of Job is written as a fable. Its introduction, “There was once a man in the land of Uz whose name was Job“ calls to mind an ancient time before history. It is rather like opening a story by saying “once upon a time...” The book paints Job as one of the wise sages of half forgotten times. Job, we are told, was righteous and upright. He feared the Lord, which meant he was wise, and turned away from all evil. We did not hear this this morning, but we are also told that he gave sacrifices regularly for his children just in case they may have accidentally sinned. Such was his piety and love.

Not only are we told that Job is righteous, but God thinks so as well and tells the Satan as much. The Satan in Job is not what we might imagine, the diabolical fallen angel who corrupts and dominates this age. Satan comes from a Hebrew word meaning Adversary, as in a prosecuting attorney in a court of law. That is who the Satan is here, an angel who is not fallen, who acts as a prosecutor in God’s court. When God brings up Job’s righteousness the Satan suggests that the only reason he’s so righteous is because he has it so good. Job isn’t righteous out of love for God, but for the things God gives him! But if God were to remove the hedge he has placed around him, if God were to take his cattle and his children and his whole household, he would curse God to his face. God takes up the bet, and allows Satan to take everything away from Job but not to touch his flesh. Well, Job loses his children, his animals, his slaves, everything in a succession of disasters that could only come from God. Job mourns, but concedes “The Lord gives and the Lord takes away, blessed is the name of the Lord.”

So the Satan returns to God and God gloats over the patience of Job. But Satan insists that Job is only patient because he himself has not been harmed. But skin for skin! If the Satan could attack his flesh he would surely curse God. So God relents and allows the Satan to give Job painful sores and ulcers. Job scrapes himself with broken pottery to remove the pus. His own wife tells him that he should give up his integrity and just curse God and die.

“You are talking like a foolish woman.” Job replies, “shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?”

The book grows more complicated from here on out, as Job begins to launch his accusations against God. But for now I want to stop and meditate on the awesome patience of Job. Job has lost everything. He has lost his family, his property, his health. He has seemingly lost his wife. All he has left is his integrity, his dignity, his knowledge that he is an upright and righteous man who has done no evil. And it is this integrity that gives him patience.

Patience is a wonderful quality. It’s the quality that allows us to endure evils. Oftentimes we think of patience in the sense of keeping from anger. Or, in other words, not losing our cool. But patience is also about keeping ourselves from despair. Patience is a quality that also requires grit and determination. Patience is the ability to see through the present evil because as Paul tells us we know that it is nothing compared to the glory that is waiting for us. This morning we see Job exhibiting his patience. And, I believe, he exhibits this patience more or less throughout the book.

From where comes Job’s superhuman patience? What keeps him from cursing God? What keeps him in hope that he may be vindicated even though he believes God is against him? It doesn’t come out of nowhere. It’s not some innate quality that Job had that we cannot. Job had patience because he prepared his whole life for this moment. I’m not saying that Job expected that God would take away everything he had, or that Job expected to come down with ulcers that covered his whole body from head to feet. Job had patience in that he was a righteous man, who did what was right by all, who had integrity, and a love for God. His patience was born out of his character.

Patience comes from character. And the most powerful patience comes from a life of holiness and happiness. Sure we can practice patience in times when we are angry, learning to count to ten or stepping away. Those are all good things and I need to do that from time to time. But the patience that Job exhibits is of a different order, it comes from a life of integrity and love. If we want the patience of Job, that will not crumble in any circumstance, we need to lead a whole life of righteousness. And that is a life that we cannot construct on our own, but it is a life that God is willing to offer by his grace. So that in all times and in all circumstances we might say with Job “the Lord gives and the Lord takes away, blessed be the name of the Lord!”

Devoted: Confession

Devoted: Confession
We Confess Our Sins So We Know Grace 

James 5:13-20
Rev. Tim Callow
Preached Sun. September 26, 2021

In the beginning, before all worlds, God spoke and said, “Let there be light.” In the fullness of time God’s Word, Jesus Christ, became a human being. He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life, and the sure path to salvation. That Word broke down the barrier between God and humanity that we call sin. And that Word gave us words that we might speak. Words such as “Jesus Christ is Lord,” “Our Father, who art in heaven,” “I baptize you in the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,” “This is my body, this is my blood.” We have been given words of tremendous power and might. 

As James concludes his letter he’s coming back to his theme of speech. What then should we say? I’ve already addressed one right use of the tongue, that is worship. But he also lists petition, prayers of healing, confession, and rebuke as good forms of speech. Prayers of petition and healing will arise some other time. What I want to discuss this morning is confession. After all, we can only talk about rebuke after we have confessed. 

I’ve been to different churches that have done confession in different ways. I’ve said, “merciful Lord, we confess that we have not loved you with our whole heart, we have failed to be an obedient church, we have not done your will, we have broken your law, we have rebelled against your love, we have not loved our neighbors and we have not heard the cry of the needy.” I know that one the best, that’s what we use out of our hymnal. I’ve also said, “We acknowledge and bewail our manifold sins and wickedness, which we from time to time most grievously have committed, by thought, word, and deed, against they divine Majesty, provoking most justly thy wrath and indignation against us. We do earnestly repent, and are heartily sorry for these our misdoings; the remembrance of them is grievous unto us, the burden of them is intolerable.” What are we doing? 

I’ve heard some people tell me that they are troubled by the words of the confession we use because they feel like words are being put into their mouths. They do not feel as if they’ve “failed to be an obedient Church” and the word failure is pretty strong. The confessions we say can feel like self-flagellation more than a cure. I’m sure that as I said the words of the Book of Common Prayer “we acknowledge and bewail our manifold sins and wickedness” that some of us felt uncomfortable. We don’t want to come to Church feeling judged because we get judged enough in this world. We want to come to Church and know we are forgiven and have a place to belong. That God welcomes all of us to his house regardless of our station in life. So when we say these words about how nasty we can be it seems to fall out of place. 

But we are called to confess our sins. In the first place because we are all sinners. All have sinned and fallen short, Paul tells us. We are all in need of forgiveness, otherwise we wouldn’t be here. So we confess our sins that we may be cleansed, that the burden might be released. God's grace truly is freely offered to all, but we need to remember the story of the pharisee and the publican. How the pharisee’s prayer was all about how much better he was compared to the publican, and how the publican would not even look up to heaven, but only confessed his status as a sinner. It was the publican who received forgiveness, and the pharisee who was left in his sins. Forgiveness is offered to the sinner, the physician goes to the sick. We must ask to receive, but he who seeks, finds. 

That is why we say our confession, but as a matter of churchly convention why do we confess in the manner we confess? At least, as a corporate body. We can always confess directly to God, or to one another as James suggests. But when we come together as a Church we confess in a manner that may seem overblown. It may seem untruthful. So why do it? 

When we speak in worship we speak in a certain register, a certain key. What we say is heightened and perhaps a little hyperbolic, but it’s nevertheless true and right. Think of it this way, if you were to lay down with the one you love and you were to say “honey, you are the most handsome man or the most beautiful woman I know” would that be true? Well, in a manner of speaking no. It may be more accurate to say, “Honey, you are a standard deviation more beautiful than most people I know in town.” But you’d probably suffer for that. It may be accurate in a sense, but it’s not the right thing to say, and it doesn’t express the truth you mean to express anyway. You’re not speaking the language of love, you’re speaking the language of, well, statistics. And that’s not usually what belongs in a relationship. That we speak in different registers doesn’t make us any less authentic, it only makes us more authentic. What’s inauthentic is putting the wrong register in the wrong situation, like a politician trying her hand at stand up comedy on the house floor. 

So, too, when we confess our sins we speak in a different register. We speak in a register of humility and contriteness. Even Paul says, “I am the chief of sinners.” In a certain sense that’s just downright false. He didn’t betray Jesus Christ like Judas, for instance. But in another sense it’s absolutely true, because he comes to God in meekness and humility. So too, it may be more accurate for us to say, “I did a few things wrong, but by and large I did pretty good.” But it’s not the appropriate way to go about a confession. We confess hyperbolically, if I can use that word, that we might know God’s hyperbolic grace. We come in humility, expressing our manifold sins and wickedness, that we might know more strongly and proclaim more boldly God’s overwhelming grace. And we confess not as an individual, but as a corporate body. All our failures, all our mistakes, all our sins. That we would know there is not a single thing God will refuse to forgive. Not a single thing that will make God turn away. 

The message of confession is not that we are a miserable lot of sinners who don’t deserve to live. The message of confession is that God forgives even the most miserable sinner, that no one is outside of grace, that no one is so lost they cannot be reclaimed, so damaged that they cannot be made whole. That God’s forgiveness and grace extends to everyone, everywhere, if they will but knock at the door. 

Devoted: Envy

Devoted: Envy

God is the Giver of All Good Gifts 

James 3:13-4:3, 7-8a
Rev. Tim Callow 

Preached Sun. September 19, 2021

Jesus is on the run. The Pharisees are against him, and they have influence in the towns. The Herodians are against him and they have influence in the cities. He stays hidden, traveling in the wilderness as if he were an exile or refugee. If he is found he may be killed, and his time had not yet come. It’s in this context that Jesus teaches his disciples about his inevitable end. It isn’t surprising that an itinerant preacher with a rag tag group of disciples might anticipate his death. “The Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him,” but what is surprising is he anticipates resurrection, “and three days after being killed, he will rise again.”

The disciples don’t understand this at all. And, like high schoolers trying to keep up appearances with their teacher, they are afraid to ask questions. Instead they ignore his teaching and start arguing with each other. When they get to a safe house in Capernaum Jesus asks them what they were arguing over. They remained silent, ashamed because they argued over which one of them is the greatest disciple.

Their self-delusion here is really astounding. Jesus is on the run. None of them carry a single weapon. He’s telling them how he must die. And they’re arguing over which one of them is the greatest. “No, I’m the best disciple, no I’m the best disciple.” They should be shivering in terror, but instead they’re boasting.

So Jesus continues his teaching, "Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” And then he takes a child to his knee, "Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.” Discipleship is not about honor. It’s not about bragging rights. It’s not about wealth or power. It’s about service. Caring for others. Sharing in love. The disciples are busy boasting when Jesus would call them to loving service. Loving service that may lead to the cross, but ends in resurrection.

In our Psalm this morning the Psalmist outlines two ways. There’s the way of the righteous and the way of the wicked. The righteous is like a tree planted by streams of water. He is firm, well protected, well nourished. All he does shall prosper. But then the way of the wicked is doomed, it cannot stand. Jesus, though he faces the cross, walks in the way of the righteous. The disciples, in their boasting, are in danger of walking in the way of the wicked.

James, this morning, helps clarify further. The righteous among us, the wise, would show gentleness in their lives. Jesus shows us this shame gentleness in how he treats his disciples, wayward as they are. And how he treats us, in going to the cross for our sake. But the way of the wicked is a way of boasting, selfish ambition, falsity, and envy.

What is the root of the difference? But the way of the righteous is grounded in God, his good works, and his good gifts. The way of the wicked is characterized by envy. What is envy?  Full blown envy is more than just wanting what someone else has, or coveting. It’s seeing that someone else has something that you want, something that’s really really good, something that you wish they didn’t have, and grieving over the fact they have it and you don’t. It’s when we get it in our heads that somehow our self-worth is diminished because someone else has something we feel we should have. That’s full blown envy, that’s when it gets deep seated. And when it gets that bad, and turns into a form of grief, it can lead to all sorts of strife. It can lead to quarrels and fights and cursing. It can even lead to murder because we are possessed by our grief, and act in strange ways. As James says, "You want something but you don’t get it. You kill and covet, but you cannot have what you want. You quarrel and fight.”

The envious, in other words, think there is only so much to go around. Life is a zero sum game. And if someone else has something they feel they deserve, it grieves them. The disciples ask who is the greatest because someone has to be on top. There must be a greatest disciple. They can’t all be equally faithful, or equally loved by Jesus. They argue, and they boast, and they fight.

But how strange it is that we would envy anything. James tells us in the first chapter of his letter that, “every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.” All good things are a gift from God, and God places them where he wills. So why, then, should we grow envious of anything anyone has? What we’re doing is questioning God’s judgment. Moreover, we are grieving over the very gifts of God, the very presence of God in this world when we grieve over the good things people have. 

And this grief comes out of ignorance, ignorance of the good things God has given to us. We forget the blessings we have in our lives, and we forget that the greatest gift of all is not someone’s promotion or family life, but the greatest gift of all is Jesus Christ. The greatest thing we have received is our salvation that was purchased on the cross. When we are reminded of these great gifts, that all great gifts are from God, how can we remain in our envy? 

This is why James tells us, “Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil and he will flee from you. Come near to God and he will come near to you.” God does not flee from sin. Sin flees from God. Jesus Christ did not avoid the sinner, but made them clean. So too, Jesus Christ does not abandon us in our sins, but rather is the sole solution and antidote to our sins! The way past envy of all sorts, whether small or great, is Jesus Christ. He brings the healing, he points the way forward, he gives us all good gifts. 

Devoted: Tongue

Devoted: Tongue

Discipline Your Tongue with Praise

James 3:1-12


Rev. Tim Callow


Preached Sun. September 12th, 2021

When I was in grade school we had an old saying, perhaps you have heard of it. “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me.” It’s one of those incantations that are especially devastating because it has a good rhythm or it rhymes. One could also say in the same moment “I am rubber and you are glue, everything you say bounces off me and sticks back to you.” And, I suppose, that’s how it is. But the idea was that whatever you might say, whatever anyone may say, can’t hurt. The only way you are going to get at me is if you pick up a rock. But then the teacher is more likely to notice.

The truth is “sticks and stones might break my bones but words will never hurt me” is one of those childish ideas that we soon outgrow. Of course words hurt. Words can be far more devastating than any stick or stone. A broken bone is easier to heal than a broken heart or a poisoned mind. The words we say, the words others say, can have tremendous consequences as we are reminded this morning. James tells us, “The tongue is a little member and boasts of great things. How great a forest is set ablaze by a small fire! And the tongue is a fire!”

Shortly before I started my ministry in the UP they had a large forest fire up by a place called Duck Lake. Almost 22,000 acres were burned down, $450,000 worth of damage. I used to preach at a little forest chapel near the mouth of the big two hearted river. In order to get there I passed through miles of burned down forest. It took a long time for the bushes and trees to begin to grow, so all you saw was ash and the skeletons of burned out trees. All that damage was caused, in the first, by a lightning strike and a small fire. The tongue, James reminds us, is a fire. It is small, but it can have big consequences if we use it falsely.

James compares the tongue to a bridle. If you want to control a horse you put the bridle in its mouth and you can direct the horse where to go. If you want to steer a large ship you can set its course with a very small rudder. And so too with our lives, the words we say, the way we choose to describe people and events, all help determine how we will act.

One of the stories from the exodus concerns spies who were sent to the promised land to search it out. The spies came back with two reports. Joshua and Caleb came back saying the land was everything God had promised. It was flowing with milk and honey. It had large fertile fields of produce, and much rich grazing land. There were large cities ready for the taking. They saw the land in terms of the promise of God. But the others came back with a different report. Where Joshua and Caleb saw the fruitfulness of a land ripe for the taking, they emphasized that there were giants in the land. They spoke fearfully about the large defenses of the cities, and how it would be impossible to take. The people of Israel listened to the others, and wailed. They grew fearful, certain that they had been led to the slaughter or to die in the wilderness.

All it took was the power of speech. Joshua and Caleb described the land faithfully. The others described the land in terms of their fears. Both were describing the same land. But one description was right, and the other was wrong. One would lead to life, and the other to death. In the end God chose not to lead that generation into the land he had promised, because they had in effect rejected it. It would be Joshua, not Moses, who would lead their children in to the land.

The words we say matter because description matters. It matters that I call myself stupid in my own self talk. Or it matters that I’m always talking down someone I don’t like behind my back. It matters that I’m always venting, and then always looking for more to vent. Our disciplines of speech can make us upset, and lead us down bad roads. We have to be careful with our speech. A stream doesn’t bring forth both fresh and brackish water, so how can a mouth both curse and praise? We need to be judicious with our words.

The need to be judicious with our words is one reason why worship is so important. Worship has a moral dimension, too. In worship we offer up our speech in praise to God. We show gratitude and thanksgiving. We are reminded of God’s deeds, and of God’s salvation. Our hearts are turned, once again, to Jesus on his cross giving himself up for us. And not just for us, but for that person we keep gossiping about. Not just for us, but for that coworker we can’t help but vent over. Not just for us, but for them, the people who cause all the worlds problems. And especially for ourselves at our most stupid. We turn our speech to God that we might re-learn how to talk about ourselves, our world, and others.

We are reminded of Jesus’ sacrifice, and God’s power. We are reminded of the Spirit among us, and our place in the body of Christ. And when we are so reminded we may learn to speak aright. Aright about ourselves, our God, each other, and our world.

Devoted: Words

Devoted: Words

Don’t Be Satisfied with Words

James 2:1-17


Rev. Tim Callow


Preached Sun. September 5th, 2021

I visited Manhattan once, and very much felt like a fish out of water. I wasn’t used to there being so many people, and I wasn’t used to none of the people acknowledging me. I also quickly realized, coming off the train, that my plaid shirt and blue jeans were not the sort of wear common in Manhattan. But I did spend the day there, wandering about, checking out Soho and Chinatown and Little Italy. By the end of the day my friends and I found our way to Wall Street. I remember the stock exchange being much smaller than I thought it would be.

On Wall Street is an old church, and one of the richest churches in the world. It had been deeded, I think, a fifth of Manhattan before any of it was developed. It doesn’t own a fifth of Manhattan anymore, but it does have many investments in real estate and in stocks. It’s a big deal. I was excited to have a chance to get inside and take a look. But I suppose they didn’t have the volunteers to open up at 8pm on a weeknight. So instead I was treated to the incongruous image of a sign that told me I was welcomed, behind a wrought iron gate with a comically large padlock locking me out.

I’ve never forgotten that image. I always think of it when a Church’s rhetoric doesn’t meet their action. When their acts contradict what they claim to believe.

James, this morning, wants to remind us that our acts and our beliefs are one in the same. We act out what we truly believe, we believe what we do. We cannot separate the two. He uses the example of favoritism. How can we say we truly believe in the gospel if we show favoritism? A rich man arrives with gold rings and fine clothes, and a poor person with dirty clothes arrives at the same time. But if you take notice of the rich man, serving him, and disrespect the poor man, how is that in line with the gospel? Aren’t we showing that we don’t believe Jesus died for both the rich and the poor man? Can we truly say we are following Jesus’ command to love our neighbor as ourselves?

It is easy to fall into the trap of saying but not doing. Especially when the ideal enshrined in the gospel is so high. I knew one person who would tell me the importance of forgiveness, and that they felt God had made forgiveness easy and joyful for them. But then would also tell me about all the people they were, as yet, unwilling to forgive for whatever reason. It’s fine to struggle with forgiveness. In fact, I’m going to be very surprised if it isn’t a struggle to forgive some people. There are people I have difficulty forgiving, I’d much rather be angry. But we show with our acts, not our words, what we truly believe deep down.

It is easy to fall into that trap of saying but not doing. Which is why we need to continually repent, and continually encourage one another to do what we say. We say we believe in the love of God, and the love of neighbor, but we so continually fall short. But we show, further, that we believe in the forgiveness of God and the power of his grace by returning to him and confessing our sins.

This, in the end, is why James is not in contradiction with Paul. When I was in college this text was used to read James against Paul. Paul tells us that faith saves, James says it does not. Paul contrasts faith and works, but Paul says it is faith alone that saves and not works. But I think Paul and James are really one in the same on this point.

“What good is it,” James asks, “if you say you have faith but do not have works?” What good is it if you say one thing but never act on it? Jesus tells a parable about a man who sends his two sons out into the field. One says he won’t go, but goes. The other says he’ll go, but doesn’t. Who follows the father? It’s not the one who says yes, but doesn’t go. It’s the one who says no, but goes anyway. Our deeds, not our words, will say what we truly believe.

Faith is not simply a matter of assent, it’s a matter of action. It’s not just what we say, it’s what we do. I can tell you all about how I trust this boat to be seaworthy. But I won’t show you any faith in the matter until I step on the boat! I can tell you all day long about God’s love and forgiveness and how we are to love and forgive others. But until you see me try to put that in action, you won’t see the faith! Faith, if it is not put to work, is dead. Faith, if it is not practiced, isn’t worth the name.

The world isn’t satisfied with your words, the world has words enough. The world wants to be shown. We can’t be satisfied with words, whether they are our own words or the words of someone else. Don’t settle for words. Instead, seek to show. Put words to action. Display love, display forgiveness, display mercy, display the difference the gospel makes.