by Jeffrey Spencer | Jul 23, 2024 | Sermons |
CLICK HERE for a worship video for July 21
Sermon for the Ninth Sunday after Pentecost – July 21, 2024
Jeremiah 23:1-6, Psalm 23, Mark 6:30-34, 53-56
Dear friends, grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ.
As [Jesus] went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd.
What was it, exactly, that Jesus saw in this crowd that caused him to have compassion for them? What did he see in them that tugged on his heartstrings?
Actually, the response Jesus has here which is described as “compassion” is technically more related to the gut than the heart. He felt their situation in his gut. He felt their need deeply, to his core. He had a gut instinct to respond.
So what was their situation? What was their need? The scriptures tell us they were like sheep without a shepherd, but what does that mean?
I know there are a handful of you out there who have actual experience with sheep, but most of us are much more familiar with dogs. So, if you don’t mind me mixing metaphors just a bit, let me tell you about an experience I had recently with a dog.
On the morning of July 5th, I went out for a run. Being the morning after Independence Day, the sidewalks and streets were covered in cardboard casings from the fireworks people had shot off. This town really, really likes fireworks, and so they were everywhere, serving as a reminder of the loud booms and cracks heard throughout the night before.
By morning it was quiet. I didn’t see anybody out on the street. There was nobody driving by. And then I saw this dog. It was running on the other side of the road. It was panting with exhaustion. Its eyes looked frantic, but not in a menacing way. It looked more sad and confused than threatening. It was pretty obvious to me that this dog had been scared by all the explosions overnight and had bolted. Who knows how long it had been running or how far it was from home? I slowed to a walk and it looked at me, its ears perking up with hope. I started to walk towards it to see if it had a tag with a phone number or something. It stopped running too, and when it did I could see that it was trembling. I spoke to it in gentle, calming tones. It looked at me with those confused and frightened eyes. Then it gave me an expression that seemed to say, “Nope, you’re not my person!” and it ran off.
Now before someone comes after me for being anti-fireworks, let me assure you that that is not the point I’m trying to make. What I’m trying to say is that THIS is what it is like to be a sheep without a shepherd! It is an experience of being frantic and frightened and vulnerable and confused. It is an experience of running madly in any direction you can just try to get away from what is scaring you. To be a sheep without a shepherd is to be lost and exhausted and desperately looking for the one you know and trust to care for you.
This isn’t just something that happens to animals. It happens to people too. It happens to people all the time. This is what Jesus saw in the people he encountered that made him respond with this gut-level compassion.
Long ago, God had promised to send a new shepherd to care for his people. In the time of the prophet Jeremiah, the shepherds weren’t doing a good job of shepherding. In our first reading we heard how the shepherds were destroying and scattering the sheep. The shepherds Jeremiah is referring to are the kings of Israel. We often assume that anytime we hear of shepherds in the Bible that it is referring to pastors, but this isn’t in this case here. More about that in a bit. Here Jeremiah is talking about kings, and these kings were corrupt. Instead of caring for the sheep God had entrusted to them, they sought only their own power. Instead of providing for their sheep, they only lined their own pockets. Instead of being models of godliness, they abandoned God’s Word and God’s ways whenever it benefitted them to do so. And because of the negligence and the evil doings of these shepherd-kings, the sheep were scattered, unattended, alone, and afraid.
Through Jeremiah, God promised to tend to these wicked shepherd-kings. God promised to raise up new ones who would do a better job. And God did precisely that. God raised up shepherd-kings who were faithful and good, kings like Zerubbabel, who rebuilt the temple in Jerusalem.
Even better, however, God promised through Jeremiah that he would ultimately raise up through King David’s line “a righteous branch.” God promised that this particular shepherd would “reign as king and deal wisely,” that he would “execute justice and righteousness in the land.” God promised that “In his days Judah will be saved and Israel will live in safety.” God said, “This is the name by which he will be called: “The Lord is our righteousness.”
What God is promising here is that he himself will come to be their shepherd. God is promising that he himself will come to be their righteousness. What Jeremiah is saying is that Lord himself will come to make things right, the Lord himself will come to save his people, to gather all who were scattered. The Lord himself will come to be this shepherd, to lead them in right pathways for his name’s sake.
And in Jesus Christ, this righteous branch has come. In Jesus Christ, this promise has been fulfilled. Jesus is the shepherd who has come to reign as king and deal wisely. He is the shepherd who has come to make things right. He is the shepherd who has come to save.
We see Jesus doing precisely this as he encounters this group of people in our gospel reading. Jesus saw the fear and the desperation in their eyes. He saw how they were lost, how they had been scattered. He saw how they were frantic and exhausted and in need of one they could trust to truly care for them. And so, scripture tells us, “He had compassion for them, for they were like sheep without a shepherd.
Jesus is still this shepherd. He is the shepherd-king Jeremiah promised would come. He is the shepherd we hear about in the 23rd psalm. He is the Lord who leads people to green pastures and still waters, restoring their souls. He is the shepherd who has a gut-level reaction of compassion for all who are scattered, lost, confused, or afraid. He has come to those who were like sheep without a shepherd, so that they wouldn’t be without a shepherd anymore. He is that shepherd for us. He is that shepherd for you.
We live in a time when many people feel like scattered sheep, when many people feel a little frantic. We hear loud noises coming from the booming voices of those who stir up fear in order to shore up their own power. We have recently heard loud rifle cracks of political violence, which has everyone on edge. We have widespread loss of trust in many, maybe all, of our civic institutions, which has many people feeling disoriented and confused, not sure where to turn or who to believe.
On a more personal level, we see those sad and frightened eyes over and over again in people around us who are dealing with scary stuff. We see them in parents with a sick or medically fragile kid. We see them in those battling cancer, and in their spouses who feel so powerless to help. We see it in families that have experienced the devastating impact of addiction, which has become so tragically common in our country and our congregation. We see them in those who have held the hands of loved ones as they have walked through the valley of the shadow of death, and then had to learn to live without them, which is like learning to walk again.
We sometimes feel like scattered sheep, like lost dogs. We sometimes feel frantic and afraid, lost and vulnerable, desperate and confused. But we are not without a shepherd who cares for us.
Pastors are sometimes called shepherds. There’s a good reason for this. One of the most prominent images for pastoral work in the New Testament is that of shepherding. Pastors are to shepherd God’s people. They are to shepherd the congregation. But there is really only one shepherd, and that is Jesus.
Through the Doxology pastoral renewal program I have been participating in this past year I have come to view the pastor’s role of shepherding in a slightly different way. There I have been encouraged to think of pastors as sheepdogs.
Sheepdogs do indeed do the work of shepherding, but they do so by the direction of and on behalf of the real Shepherd. As sheepdogs, the pastor’s first job is to spend a lot of time looking at the Shepherd, keeping their eyes fixed on Him. Then they are to follow his lead in nudging the sheep in His direction, so that they would look at Him too.
As a sheepdog, sometimes the loud noises make me anxious too. But I know a guy! I know a shepherd. He is the only truly good shepherd. He is the only shepherd-king we can trust to care for us no matter what.
When he sees our frightened or frantic eyes, he has great compassion for us. He feels for us right down in his gut. And so he comes to us. He comes to lead us to green pastures and still waters. He comes to us to restore our souls. He comes to lead us in right pathways for his name’s sake. He comes to walk with us through the valley of the shadow. His rod and his staff comfort us. He prepares a table for us, and our cup overflows.
When you are tired, he is your rest. When you are afraid, he is your peace. When you feel lost, he will be your home.
Let us all keep our eyes on him.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
Rev. Jeffrey R. Spencer
Oak Harbor Lutheran Church
by Jeffrey Spencer | Jul 23, 2024 | Sermons |
CLICK HERE for a worship video for July 14
Sermon for the Eighth Sunday after Pentecost – July 14, 2024
Amos 7:7-15, Ephesians 1:3-14, Mark 6:14-29
Dear friends, grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ.
Whenever this gospel reading comes around every three years, I have a hard time saying, “The Gospel of the Lord” at the end of it. “Gospel” means “good news,” and it is hard to see any good news in this sordid story. Instead, it is filled with adultery and manipulation and shocking violence. It sounds more like the evening news than the Good News.
But that is part of the point. As scripture often does, St. Mark is holding a mirror up to the kingdoms of this world. He is holding a mirror up to society, including ours. He is holding a mirror up to the realities of sin that continue to this day.
Herod Antipas was the son of the other King Herod we hear about in the New Testament – the one who killed all the baby boys in Bethlehem after Jesus was born. Herod Junior, otherwise known as Herod Antipas, was following in his father’s footsteps. He had grown up to be a Jewish puppet king for the Roman Empire, just like his dad. His Jewishness gave the appearance of piety and respect for God’s people, but he was just a mask, behind which lurked imperial, pagan Rome.
But the mask slipped when Herod Antipas’ scandalous behavior became public knowledge. On a visit to his brother Philip in Rome, he engaged in an affair with his brother’s wife, Herodias. They both ended up divorcing their spouses and marrying each other. Many in the Jewish community were upset and angry. They didn’t like the idea of a Jewish king violating God’s commandments, especially to marry his sister-in-law. John the Baptist was brave enough to call him on it. John called Herod and Herodias to repent.
Herod, scripture tells us, found John the Baptist to be an interesting person. He actually liked listening to him. He acknowledged that he was a righteous and holy man. He even feared him to a degree. Perhaps there was some respect for God’s law that remained in a corner of his heart. Perhaps his conscience was being pricked by John’s preaching.
His wife Herodias, on the other hand, despised John. She hated John for daring to publicly call them out on their adultery. She was so mad about it that she wanted him dead. At first Herod wouldn’t go that far, but at his wife’s insistence he did go ahead and arrest John and put him in prison. (Marriage is all about compromise, right?)
But then came Herod’s birthday party. Herod invited lots of powerful people for a birthday banquet. Herodias’s daughter, who was now not only Herod’s niece but his stepdaughter too, performed a dance at the party. This dance got everyone’s attention. Given what we know about this family and about the culture of the time and about human nature in general, this was almost certainly not a ballet dance. This was not an innocent tap dance. This was very likely a young woman dancing in ways that kept the men in rapt attention. At the end of the dance, Herod made a big show in front of his powerful friends, promising to give his niece/step-daughter anything she wanted. He even offered to give her up to half of his kingdom.
Herodias saw her chance. She coached her daughter to ask for the head of John the Baptist. Herod was “deeply grieved,” the scriptures tell us, but he was trapped. He was trapped by his own sin, by his own foolish bravado. Feeling bound by the oaths he had made in front of his important guests, Herod gave the gruesome order. John was beheaded, and the proof was brought into the banquet on a platter.
In our first reading we hear about Amos’ vision of the Lord holding a plumb line next to a wall. A plumb line was a simple tool consisting of a string with a weight tied to the bottom. It was a common tool used for construction in the ancient world. Gravity held that string taught and true, and so it showed whether a wall was vertically straight or not. It revealed where it was out of alignment. The Lord held this metaphorical plumb line up to the wall that was Israel under King Jeroboam, showing that they were horribly out of alignment with God’s will.
Similarly, in his preaching John the Baptist was holding a plumb line up to Herod Antipas and Herodias. He showed them how they were out of alignment with God’s commandments. First they violated the first commandment to have no other gods, which led to violating the tenth commandment against coveting another’s spouse, which led to violating the sixth commandment against adultery, which led to violating the fifth commandment against murder. Before John was done in by their violation of the fifth commandment, he called them to repent, to be realigned.
And now this Jesus whom Herod had heard so much about was sending out preachers. They, too, were preaching repentance! Herod thought that John, whom he killed, had come back to life! He was haunted by John. He was convicted by the plumb line of his preaching.
This is how God’s Word works. It is like a mirror, or a plumb line, for all who hear it. As we hear this sordid story today we can certainly make some connections to things happening in our own time. The Bible isn’t shy about showing us our world as it really is in all its wickedness and debauchery and violence.
But God’s Word holds a mirror, or a plumb line, up to us too. It shows us where we fail to live in alignment with God’s will. This story reminds us how certain sins are often handed down generationally. It shows us how insidious sin is – not just in the halls of power, but in our daily lives. It shows us how for us, too, the commandments are like dominoes in that once one falls, others soon follow. It shows us how desperate we are to be in control of our little kingdoms, how desperate we are to save face in public, how desperate we are to silence those voices which call our actions into question. It shows us how we often end up feeling trapped by sin with no way out. Did we not just confess that we are in bondage to sin and unable to free ourselves?
On the surface this story sounds like an unwelcome and R-rated anomaly in the lectionary. It sounds like an episode of Game of Thrones, or perhaps Desperate Housewives of Ancient Israel. But there is good news in it. There is good news in the fact that it is precisely into this reality in which we all live that Christ has come. It is this world that God so dearly loves, quite in spite of itself. It is this world and its fallen human race that Christ came to save – not ultimately with a mirror or a plumb line, but with a cross.
You see, this story, as strange and out of place as it might seem, is not only showing us how out of alignment the world is; it is already anticipating how God would go about setting it right. Mark includes this story in his gospel to begin to point us to the cross. He tells this story because it so powerfully foreshadows what Jesus would endure in order to bring salvation to a broken world. Jesus, like John, made many people mad for calling them out on their sin. Jesus, like John, would be arrested. Jesus, like John, would be brutally executed by a reluctant official who was bowing to the pressures of a crowd. Jesus, like John, would be laid in a tomb.
Before all this, when Jesus sent out his disciples to preach repentance, Herod thought that Jesus was John, raised from the dead. Herod was wrong on the details, of course, but he was saying more than he knew. His mistake was actually a clue of sorts, a clue foreshadowing what would come. Because after Jesus’ own brutal execution, he did rise from the dead! The grave could not hold him. The ugliness of this world could not keep him away. Jesus was raised from the dead in order to bring us back into alignment with God through the forgiveness, life, and salvation he has won for us through his death and resurrection.
There is good news here in this story. It is lurking in the background, but it is there – and it is for you. The good news for you is this: no matter how depressingly sordid the TV news gets, there is nothing new under the sun – and it is precisely this broken, sinful world that our Lord loves and came to save. This should help us all to live in hope in spite of all the depressing headlines.
Furthermore, no matter how sordid or sinful or messy or painful or soap-opera-y your own story might be, it isn’t too much for Jesus. No matter how out of alignment your life has been or might be today, Jesus has come to bring you back into right relationship with God through his forgiveness, which he continues to pour out for you abundantly. As St. Paul tells us in Ephesians, “In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace that he lavished on us.”
Christ has come to redeem you from the sordid parts of your story. By his death and resurrection he has conquered sin and death in order to give you his kingdom, which comes with a new life and a new hope and a new future.
This is the gospel of our Lord.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
Rev. Jeffrey R. Spencer
Oak Harbor Lutheran Church
by Jeffrey Spencer | Jul 23, 2024 | Sermons |
CLICK HERE for a worship video for July 7
Sermon for the Seventh Sunday after Pentecost – July 7, 2024
Mark 6:1-13
Dear friends, grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ.
Oftentimes homecomings are wonderful occasions. Think of kids coming home from college for the summer. Think of those joyful reunions on the tarmac at NAS Whidbey when a squadron returns and a family is reunited. Think of those times when you’ve been away from home and how good it feels to sleep once again in your own bed.
Oftentimes homecomings are wonderful occasions – but not always.
Jesus returned to Nazareth from a productive road trip where total strangers believed in him. There was the hemorrhaging woman we met last week who said, “If only I touch his clothes, I will be made well.” Now that’s faith in Jesus, and Jesus told her that her faith made her well. There was Jairus, the leader of the synagogue in Capernaum, who sought out Jesus when his daughter was so desperately ill. He trusted that he could help them. That’s faith too! These and many other total strangers believed in Jesus. They had faith in him. They trusted him.
Then Jesus went home to Nazareth, the village where he grew up. Jesus might have looked forward to his mother’s home cooking. He might have lingered in his father’s carpentry shop, smelling the wood, remembering working alongside Joseph, learning his trade. As we heard, in Nazareth Jesus was surrounded by relatives. Perhaps they were literal brothers and sisters, perhaps they were half-brothers and half-sisters from Joseph’s side, perhaps they were what we would call cousins. The nature of these relationships isn’t entirely clear, and the witness of the church varies. But regardless of precisely how they were related to Jesus, this was family. These were the people he grew up with.
Jesus would have known this little village of Nazareth like the back of his hand – every corner, every tree, every person. But they did not know him. Oh, they thought they knew him. When Jesus taught in his hometown synagogue they asked, “Is this not the carpenter? Is this not Mary’s son?” They thought they knew him. But they didn’t know him. Not really. Unlike the total strangers he had met out on the road, Jesus’ hometown crowd did not believe in him. They did not have faith in him. They did not put their trust in him. In fact, they were offended by him. “They took offense at him,” the scriptures tell us.
It is hard to know exactly what the people of Nazareth found so offensive about Jesus. Mark, the gospel writer, doesn’t tell us anything about what Jesus said when he taught in the synagogue that day. But we can make some fairly safe assumptions based on what Jesus had said and done leading up to this homecoming. Jesus had been saying and doing things that only God himself could say and do. Jesus announced the forgiveness of sins. He announced the coming of the kingdom of God. Jesus cast out demons. He healed the sick and raised the dead. He called people to repent and believe the good news, to repent and believe in him. Out on the road, many did. But here in his hometown of Nazareth, they didn’t.
Jesus lamented this disappointing homecoming with a proverb: “Prophets are not without honor, except in their hometown, and among their own kin, and in their own house.” And, as the scriptures poignantly note, Jesus was amazed at their unbelief.
This wasn’t a joyful homecoming, to be sure, but this homecoming is instructive for the church today.
First of all, Jesus’ return to Nazareth reminds us that the gospel is indeed offensive to many people. The forgiveness of sin is only good news to those who first recognize and accept that they are sinners. Forgiveness is only received as good news by those who know they need it. Many people, then and now, want affirmation, not forgiveness. They want their behavior excused rather than forgiven. To announce forgiveness is to presume there is something to be forgiven for, which not everyone accepts, and which many people find very offensive.
To make matters even more challenging, we live in a time where people are easily offended. We live in a culture which seems to actually incentivize being offended. It gets you attention. It makes you seem righteous. It gives you a certain amount of cultural power. Comedians in particular have been noting this recently. Even someone as innocuous and mainstream as Jerry Seinfeld has recently noted that there are very few new sitcoms being made, and he attributes this to networks and advertisers being afraid of a hypersensitive culture. He has said he won’t perform on college campuses for the same reason. So many are just looking for reasons to be offended.
We can’t expect to be immune to this as the church. We will offend people. No matter how winsome and kind and gentle and loving we try to be – and we should try to be all of those things! – there are people who will take offense at us and the gospel we bear. If Jesus himself experienced this, how can we expect anything less? Do we think we can do those things better than him?
We not only live in a time of offense, but of unbelief. I have been encouraged recently to see some studies and commentators here and there starting to suggest that the steep decline of Christianity in the United States in recent decades looks like it has leveled off, with Christianity showing more resilience than many expected. But it is still true that a large percentage of our neighbors do not believe in Jesus. They do not have faith in him. They have not placed their trust in him. This is particularly painful for those of us with loved ones who do not believe, especially when they are people close to us who, like the people of Nazareth, have grown up with Jesus their whole life, but no longer seem to know him.
Jesus’ homecoming in Nazareth reminds us that even those who have grown up with Jesus may not always recognize him as their Lord. They may not always believe and trust in him as their savior. They may think of him as that guy they grew up with, but they don’t see how he can be who he says he is. Again, if Jesus himself experienced this, how can we not? It is entirely possible to do everything right in raising your kids with Jesus and still have them not seem to know him when they grow up.
So what does Jesus do in the face of offense and unbelief? Well, he doesn’t give up, that’s for sure! He doesn’t react with anger or despair. He doesn’t call for fire and brimstone to rain down on his hometown. Instead, Jesus went about among the villages teaching. He kept at it. With patience and determination, he continued on with his ministry. He did not give up.
Not only did Jesus not give up, he multiplied his efforts as he sent out the disciples. He sent them out in pairs. He gave them authority over unclean spirits, equipping them with the same authoritative word by which to forgive sins and cast out demons and bring healing and new life. Jesus instructed them to travel light and to trust him. And when they faced rejection, he told them to shake it off and move on.
When Jesus faced offense and unbelief, he did not retreat. Instead, he patiently taught. He also commissioned others to bring his word to people, to patiently and diligently teach and preach and bear witness to the gospel.
As the church today, we have been commissioned into this task. As disciples of Jesus today, this is our calling. This is no time for the church to abandon its mission. Yes, people will be offended. Yes, there will be unbelief. But the world needs Jesus, even if it doesn’t always realize it. The world needs us to bear witness to the gospel, even if people often reject us. People need Christ’s forgiveness, even if they are initially offended by it. People need his healing love, his saving grace. They need the new life he brings. They need his kingdom. We who have received all these blessings of the gospel have also been called to share them with others.
The homecoming at Nazareth was a disappointment for Jesus, to be sure. Jesus was amazed at their unbelief. But this was not the end of the story. Some of those in Nazareth who didn’t believe in Jesus then came to believe in him later. James, for instance, the brother of the Lord mentioned in this reading today, became a believer after the resurrection. He even became an important leader in the church in Jerusalem.
So don’t give up on that stubborn neighbor you’ve been inviting to worship. Don’t give up on those loved ones who do not seem to believe anymore. Jesus isn’t done with them, and you shouldn’t be either.
There is a homecoming our Lord Jesus has in store which will be a much more wonderful occasion than the one in Nazareth was. As important as our calling is to bear witness to the gospel, we entrust this final homecoming to him.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
Rev. Jeffrey R. Spencer
Oak Harbor Lutheran Church
by Jeffrey Spencer | Jul 3, 2024 | Sermons
CLICK HERE for a worship video for June 30
Sermon for the Sixth Sunday after Pentecost – June 30, 2024
Mark 5:21-43
The following sermon is delivered in character by two persons portraying Jairus and the woman.
Jairus: My name is Jairus.
Woman: My name is….not mentioned! I’m anonymous, I guess. Call me “Jane Doe.”
Jairus: I’m a leader in the synagogue. I practically live here. If there’s a service or a study going on, nine times out of ten I am here.
Woman: Because of my…condition, I’m considered ritually unclean. I’m banned from worship. I haven’t set foot in a synagogue for twelve years.
Jairus: I am so thankful for my beautiful family, for my wife and kids, for this community of faith. I’m surrounded by people who love and support me.
Woman: Because of my ailment, I am unable to bear children. Good luck trying to find a husband with a condition like mine. I have been made to live apart, in isolation. Sometimes I think the loneliness is more terrible than the bleeding.
Jairus: What? Well, yes. I have a few coins to my name, if you must know.
Woman: Nothing. Nada. Everything I ever had has been spent. Doctors. Consultations. Treatments and tonics. Instead of making me better, it has just made me broke.
[Brief pause…]
Jairus: On that day I had never felt so…
Woman: …desperate. I felt so…
Jairus:…helpless. My little girl, my precious daughter was sick – so sick. Nobody seemed to be able to help her. I had heard about this man, this rabbi. He had just come into town by boat, and there was quite the clamoring when he arrived. His name was…
Woman: …Jesus. I had heard that he had cast out demons, that he had cleansed a leper, that he had…
Jairus: …healed the sick. There were stories about him healing a paralytic, healing a man with a withered hand. My daughter was fading fast. Things weren’t looking good. She was only twelve.
Woman: Twelve years I’ve lived with this condition. Twelve years of non-stop bleeding. Twelve years of chronic weakness. Twelve years of isolation. Then, there was Jesus…
Jairus & Woman together: What little hope I had left, I put in him.
[Brief pause…]
Jairus: When I finally saw him, I kind of…
Woman: lost it.
Jairus: …I fell to my knees and started begging – a big no-no for a respectable leader of the synagogue.
Woman: I recklessly pushed my way through the crowd – a big no-no in my condition. I reached out and touched his garment – another big no-no. But what were they going to do? Banish me? Been there, done that. I somehow believed that simply touching him would be all it took to make me well.
Jairus: We were delayed by some woman who grabbed Jesus’ robe. Some friends met us before we got to the house and told me it was too late. They told me not to bother the teacher any more. They said that she was already…dead. My head started spinning. I felt like I was going to be sick. Jesus said to me, “Do not fear, only believe.” He led the way now. Before long I could hear the wailing coming from my house. When we got there Jesus asked why they were making such a commotion. “She is only sleeping,” he told them. He took my wife and I into our daughter’s room. He took my precious girl by the hand and said “Talitha cum.” “Talitha” is an Aramaic term of endearment! This is what I called her when she was a baby. It means “little lamb.” “Little lamb,” he said to my sweet child, “it is time to get up!”
Woman: Daughter. He called me daughter! He addressed me as a daughter of Israel, a daughter of God. “Daughter,” he said, “Your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.”
Woman & Jairus together: Such kind words, such tenderness in his voice.
Woman: The bleeding had stopped. At last, I was well again. Jesus not only gave me back my health, he gave me back my life! I could return to my family! I could return to worship at the synagogue! I could be part of the community again! I had fallen at his feet filled with fear and trembling, but as I stood beside him now I was filled with peace as a daughter of God.
Jairus: My daughter was well. My wife and I felt that we’d not only received our daughter back, but our own lives as well. We were restored as a family.
[Brief pause…]
Woman: I didn’t see Jesus again, but I heard what happened to him. I heard that he was crucified. It was startling to hear that this man who had brought healing to so many ended up being broken on a cross.
Jairus: Jesus told us to not say anything about what he had done for our daughter. I guess we didn’t do such a good job at that, seeing as how our story ended up in three different books about Jesus! I didn’t understand at first why we were to keep quiet, but I think I know now. You see, Jesus didn’t heal everyone. There were plenty of people in my own synagogue who were sick and didn’t get better. There were times when throngs of sick people came to Jesus and he slipped away from them to spend time alone in prayer. I think he told us to keep quiet because he didn’t want people to get the wrong idea. He hadn’t come merely to heal the sick. He hadn’t come merely to prolong life for a few people. He had bigger things in mind, a bigger purpose.
Woman: Jesus died on that cross – but some are saying he didn’t stay dead. Some are saying he rose from the dead. His disciples have been saying that they have seen him. They’ve been telling everyone that sin and death have been conquered once and for all. They are saying that all the outcasts, all the unclean, are now sons and daughters of God because of what he has done for the world through his death and resurrection.
Jairus: Through his death and resurrection he has brought a deeper kind of healing and hope to all of humankind. Through his death and resurrection he has cured death itself, giving us all the promise of eternal life.
Woman: [Addressing congregation] What Jesus has done for me, he has done for you too. He makes you whole. He gives you new life. He calls you his daughter, his son.
Jairus: He calls you his little lamb, his precious child.
Woman: Whether you’re sick…
Jairus: …or well,
Woman: whether you’re a woman,
Jairus: or a man,
Woman: whether you’re poor,
Jairus: or financially secure,
Woman: whether you’re lonely,
Jairus: or well-connected –
Woman: life has a way of bringing us all to our knees at one time or another. But Jesus brings healing and hope to us all.
[Brief pause…]
Jairus: Do not fear, only believe.
Woman & Jairus together: Amen.
Rev. Jeffrey R. Spencer
Oak Harbor Lutheran Church
by Jeffrey Spencer | Jul 3, 2024 | Sermons
CLICK HERE for a worship video for June 23
Sermon for the Fifth Sunday after Pentecost – June 23, 2024
Mark 4:35-41
Dear friends, grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ.
The disciples had seen lots of bad weather on the Sea of Galilee before. Four of them were fisherman, and so Peter and Andrew, James and John especially would have seen plenty of wind and waves on this body of water. The Sea of Galilee was known for its sudden changes in weather. It could turn threatening at a moment’s notice. They were no strangers to storms.
But this one was different. This one hit them like a bomb cyclone. It hit them suddenly and with great fury. “A great windstorm arose,” St. Mark tells us, “and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped.” This wasn’t something they could navigate around. This wasn’t a situation where they could drop anchor and wait it out. They were sinking! They were going down!
You can imagine the terror in the eyes of even the seasoned fisherman as they furiously tried to bail out the water they were taking on, perhaps with buckets, perhaps just with cupped hands. You can imagine the wind screaming in their ears, making it hard to hear each other. You can imagine the chaos, the white-knuckle grip as they heaved up and down with the waves. You can imagine the nausea, the gasping to catch their breath, the existential panic coursing through their veins as they truly believed they were all about to die.
And throughout all of this, Jesus was in the stern, asleep. I think it is funny that St. Mark tells us that he was asleep on a cushion. That little detail provides a sharp contrast between what Jesus is experiencing and what the disciples are going through. The disciples are soaked and terrified and probably puking over the side of the boat, while Jesus is asleep – on a cushion.
The disciples, however, did not think this was funny at all. They finally shook Jesus awake, saying, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” And Jesus, who had managed to sleep through the howling of the wind and the pounding of the rain against the wood of the boat, now woke up. One Bible commentary I read beautifully described this moment by saying: “Jesus is like the mother who sleeps through all kinds of racket, but at the slightest noise from her little baby, she instantly awakes.”
Upon awaking, Jesus’ first words are not to the disciples, but to the sea: “Peace, be still!” Jesus said. Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm. Now Jesus could speak to them. Now his word could be heard. He said to them, “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?”
These were cutting questions. They pointed to the disciples’ lack of faith in him. You can almost make out a tone of mild disappointment in Jesus’ voice. “Did you really think I don’t care about you? Have you learned nothing about me yet? Do you still not trust me?”
But behind these cutting rhetorical questions was a promise: The disciples didn’t need to be afraid. They simply needed to have faith in him. They simply needed to trust him. They simply needed to trust that Jesus was more powerful than any storm.
And now they were starting to get it. Filled with great awe, they said to one another, “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?”
Our lives are filled with storms like the one the disciples faced. Sometimes these storms are quite literal. This spring has been a bad season for tornadoes in places like Oklahoma and Nebraska and Iowa, where extremely powerful twisters have burst through cities and towns and homes, carving a path of chaos and destruction, leveling barns and buildings, tossing debris in every direction, sending people into shelters in fear for their lives.
Other times these storms are more figurative. They are relational, or medical, or spiritual. These storms might not feature literal wind and waves, but they bring howling noise to our ears, making it hard to hear God’s voice. They bring a nauseating topsy-turvy upending of everything we once thought to be stable. They make us feel like we are sinking. They fill us with terror, with an existential panic.
Recently I had one of my dearest friends share with me that his wife of more than thirty years came to him out of the blue and said, “I’ve accepted a job in another city and am leaving you.” Talk about a bomb cyclone! You can say that these things never happen suddenly, and you’d be right, but it can feel that way in the moment, and that’s how it felt to him. In talking to him over Zoom you could almost see him sinking into his chair. You could sense him trying to keep his head above water, holding on for dear life.
In the past few weeks I’ve had two different mothers sobbing into my chest at the loss of their respective sons. While the underlying causes had been brewing on the horizon for some time in both situations, the loss hit them like a sudden, violent storm, with tears falling like a pounding rain.
Recently I’ve sat with people going through brutal treatments for cancer. I’ve had conversations with spouses who have watched their beloved suffer through these treatments. Sometimes there is a barely restrained frustration that Jesus would let their beloved suffer so much. Sometimes there is a sense that he must be sleeping.
But in each of these spiritual storms I’ve observed in the past several weeks, there has been a moment of calm. In each situation I’ve cited, there has been a moment when the howling wind has ceased and the noise of the storm has stopped screaming in people’s ears long enough to hear Jesus’ voice saying, “Peace.”
I’m not saying that these storms were instantaneously and permanently ended. I’m not naively saying that these people no longer had any lingering storm damage in their lives. But in each case, a moment of calm opened up such that Christ’s peace could be heard and experienced.
When I checked in on my friend a few days later, he had worked at least some things out with his wife, but even more, he had a renewed sense that Christ had a hold of him. Those grieving mothers were able to take a deep breath as they entrusted their sons to Christ’s promise. That frustrated spouse came to see in the faith of his beloved that Jesus was not sleeping after all.
Since going through my own storm of grief a couple years ago now I have been telling people how much the experience felt to me like waves crashing over me. There is the initial crash that leaves you gasping for air, then the water goes out, giving you time to catch your breath before another wave comes in and hits you. While everyone’s experience of grief is different, I’ve had so many people say, “Yes! That’s what it is like!”
Eventually those waves start to lessen. Eventually they mostly subside – although sneaker waves can still pound you from time to time. But even in the worst of the storm there are moments when the waves go out. There are moments when the winds are no longer screaming in your ears and you can hear Jesus speaking into the storm, saying, “Peace, be still.” There are moments when you realize that Jesus is not sleeping, that he has heard your cry, and that he is more powerful than the storm trying to drag you down. Even the wind and sea obey him!
Since the days of the apostles, a ship, or boat, has been a symbol for the church. We even call the place where worshippers gather the “nave,” which comes from the Latin word navis, meaning “ship,” (which is also the root for the word “Navy”).
As Christians we are not promised fair winds and following seas, but Jesus is not asleep in this boat. He hears your cries. He knows your needs. He cares about you. Here in this boat today he silences the wind screaming in our ears so that we might hear his voice, so that we might hear him speak into the storm, saying, “Peace, be still!” Here in this boat today he assures us that we do not need to be afraid, no matter what kind of storms we face in life. Here in this boat he strengthens and renews us in faith by the speaking of his powerful Word.
The Lord Jesus on board. He is with us, and he will get us through every storm.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
Rev. Jeffrey R. Spencer
Oak Harbor Lutheran Church
by Jeffrey Spencer | Jun 18, 2024 | Sermons
CLICK HERE for a worship video for June 23
Sermon for the Fourth Sunday after Pentecost – June 16, 2024
Mark 4:26-34
Dear friends, grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ.
There’s a show on Amazon Prime my wife and I have been watching for three seasons now called “Clarkson’s Farm.” We’re not really into reality TV, but I guess this is part of that genre, as it follows the real-life attempts by British media personality Jeremy Clarkson to run a successful farm in the Cotswolds of England. I’m not giving away too many spoilers in saying that he encounters all kinds of challenges. There is bad weather. There are local bureaucrats and stifling regulations. He reckons with disease and death among crops and livestock and in his farm hands. There are the ever-changing prices, which are influenced by world events far beyond his control. Most of all, though, there is his own ignorance. This is what makes the show so compelling and funny. He has come to farming late in life, and mostly he has no idea what he is doing.
(If you’re thinking about checking it out, know that Jeremy Clarkson deals with his frustrations with a very colorful vocabulary, with many words you don’t hear at church. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.)
I think the situation Jeremy Clarkson finds himself in as he tries his hand at farming has some striking parallels to the situation we find ourselves in in the church today. We too are trying to grow things. We would like to see Christian faith grow in our hearts. We would like to see Christian faith grow in the lives of our loved ones, particularly our children. We would like to see the Christian church and specifically our own congregation grow in numbers.
But it seems, at times, like nothing is going right for us. The cultural winds are blowing in directions that are not in our favor. There are church bureaucrats who only seem to make things worse. You may remember there was a pandemic which has left a deep mark on the church, perhaps more than any other institution. There are demographic realities mostly beyond our control, such as the breakdown of family life and the steeply falling birth rate, which profoundly impact the life of the church.
On top of all of this is the pervasive feeling across the church that we have no idea what we’re doing. So many Christians seem to be struggling to grow in their own faith. There is so much concern about how we can grow faith in the lives of our loved ones who seem to be slipping away from the Christian faith, especially the younger generations. It feels to many like we don’t know how to grow anything in the church anymore.
In the past, all of this seemed to come so easily to us. The Christian faith was in the air people breathed. Boats and babies kept the pews full in Lutheran congregations for generations. For decades, the Navy practically dropped off new families to this congregation’s doorstep every few years. But none of this is true anymore. And so there is this sense that we have no idea what we’re doing. It can be discouraging. It can be frustrating. I try really hard to not use some of the words Jeremy Clarkson uses, but there are days when I know exactly how he feels.
The parables in front of us this morning provide some comforting assurances to those of us who long for growth in the Christian church, who long to see faith in Christ grow in ourselves and in our loved ones. These parables of our Lord Jesus are full of promises that can keep our discouragement and frustration in check.
Jesus says the kingdom of God is like someone going out to scatter seeds. After this farmer scatters the seeds, he goes home and goes to bed. He sleeps and rises, night and day. And while he is sleeping, while he is away, without him seeing, the seeds sprout and rise. And then comes the kicker: “He does not know how!”
The farmer in this parable doesn’t know what he’s doing either! Jesus says he does not know how the seeds sprout and grow! He simply scatters the seed and goes to bed! He rests – quite literally – in the promise that they will do what seeds do!
Jesus continues with a second, more elaborate and better-known parable – the parable of the mustard seed. Jesus says that the kingdom of God is like this small, small seed which is put into the ground. There it remains – unseen, hidden – until it eventually grows into a large shrub where many birds come to make their home.
There’s a layer of irony here that is easy for us to miss. As we heard in our first reading, the kingdom of God had often been described as being like the mighty cedars of Lebanon. Jesus uses a decidedly less impressive species of plant to describe this kingdom. It might not look like much. It might not be all that valued by the world. The mustard plant was seen at that time as something of a weed to most people. The Jewish Mishnah, an early form of Bible commentary, even forbade the planting of mustard, describing it as “a useless, annoying weed.”
I think Jesus is cracking a joke here. I think he’s saying that this kingdom may not always look like much. It might be as modest and lowly-seeming as the scotch broom we see along the highway, but it will grow, and it will become a home to many.
Our job in all of this is simply to scatter seed. In a parable just before the ones we hear today Jesus tells the parable of the sower, which he actually explains. There he says that the seed represents the word of God. Our job, then, is to spread God’s word. We may or may not understand how it works in people’s lives. We may or may not see any results, immediately or ever. Just as the farmer sowed the seeds and went to bed, our job is to sow the seeds and relax, trusting the seeds to do their work. We are called to be seed sowers, not bean counters.
We are not totally helpless and ignorant when it comes to how we grow faith. There is much we can learn. There is much we can do. Being in the word ourselves is so important. Being regularly nourished by the Lord’s Supper is so important. Having prayer and faith conversations in the home, especially in homes with children, is essential. So is inviting people to worship with us. But none of this is a magic formula which guarantees immediately recognizable results. None of this is Miracle-Gro. We need patience. We need to sow, and then we need to relax, trusting the seed to do what God has promised it will do.
We were out back at our fire pit here a church a couple of Sundays ago and some of us got to talking about the seedlings which were planted a few years ago to replenish our forest behind the sanctuary windows here. Some of those seedlings seem to have withered, but many have taken root and are slowly growing.
It occurred to me later that it will be years and years before the efforts of those who planted the seedlings – which includes several of you here today – will be evident. Those trees only grow a foot or two a year, at best.
I don’t mean to be morbid, but I can do a little math, and the math suggests that most of those who did the planting will never see what those trees will look like out back when they come into the fullness of their towering glory.
But that isn’t why they planted them. They didn’t plant those seedlings expecting immediate results that they could observe and enjoy. They planted those seedlings trusting that they would grow in their own good time. They planted them trusting that God would tend to them long after they were gone. They planted them for others, trusting that many others would continue to make a home here under their branches.
Brothers and sisters, I know this is a concerning time to be the church. I know it can be discouraging and frustrating at times. I feel it too. Sometimes it seems like the challenges we are up against are too great. Sometimes it feels like we have no idea what we’re doing, like we don’t know how to grow anything anymore.
But it isn’t our job to know how the growth will come. It is our job to scatter seed. It is our job to let the word be planted first in our own hearts, and then to share that word with those around us, in our homes, in our neighborhoods, in our circles of influence. It is our job to scatter seed and then to be patient – patient with ourselves, patient with our children and other loved ones, patient with the church, patient with this stubborn world of ours.
Our job is not to know how things grow. It is not to plant with the expectation of immediately visible results. Our job is to scatter, and then to trust. It is to trust that a harvest will come. It is to trust that the smallest seed will become a mighty shrub. It is to trust that God’s Word will not return to him empty. It is our job to trust that the God who began a good work in us will bring it to completion on the day of Jesus Christ. It is our job to sow the seeds and then to relax – trusting God bring the growth in his time.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
Rev. Jeffrey R. Spencer
Oak Harbor Lutheran Church
