by Jeffrey Spencer | Aug 16, 2024 | Sermons
CLICK HERE for a worship video for July 28
Sermon for the Tenth Sunday after Pentecost – July 28, 2024
2 Kings 4:42-44, John 6:1-21
Dear friends, grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ.
It has often been said that a crisis doesn’t build character, it reveals it.
We have two crises in our gospel reading today, and this saying very much applies to both of them. These crises reveal to us who Christ is. They reveal to us his character, his identity. These crises reveal to us who Jesus is and why he has come.
The first crisis isn’t necessarily a life-or-death situation, but it does involve a large crowd out in the middle of nowhere with nothing to eat. They aren’t necessarily going to starve to death, but if you’ve ever been out in the woods with a few hangry kids, you know how dire this situation is. Things can go south in a hurry!
But before we even get to the crisis itself, Saint John (the gospel writer) prefaces the story by telling us what time of year this is happening: “Now the Passover, the festival of the Jews, was near.” It is important to understand that there are no insignificant details in John’s gospel. John mentioning that the Passover was near means something. John is intentionally framing this story in the context of this festival.
The Passover is the central festival for the Jewish people. It celebrates God’s saving help. It celebrates God’s deliverance of his people out of their captivity in Egypt. God fed them with the Passover Lamb, filling them with protein just before they began their long march towards the Promised Land. And then, along the way, when they were out in the wilderness without any food, God fed them again with miraculous manna from heaven.
Now it just so happens that there are a bunch of Jews once again living in bondage to foreign powers. Now God’s people are again out in the wilderness without anything to eat. What do you think is going to happen?
I love how Jesus toyed with Philip here, pretending to be concerned, pretending that he didn’t already know exactly how this was all going to play out. “Just look at all these people here, Philip,” Jesus said. “How are we ever going to buy bread for them all to eat?” John tells us Jesus knew what he was going to do all along, of course. Jesus was testing Philip.
We could think of this testing as a Sunday school quiz for Philip. “Do you remember the story about the manna in the wilderness, Philip? Do you remember what God did?” This was a quiz that both Philip and Andrew failed. Even though Passover was right around the corner, they weren’t making the connection at all. They looked to the meager amount of cash they had on hand. Andrew pointed to the one person who seems to have come prepared – a boy with five barley loaves and two fish – but noted that this wasn’t nearly enough to feed this crowd. “What are we going to do?” they asked.
And then Jesus did what he already knew he was going to do. He took the boy’s five loaves and two fish and he miraculously multiplied them, distributing them to everyone there, until all were satisfied. There were even leftovers!
The people who ate this miraculous meal in the wilderness knew they had experienced more than an impromptu picnic. They knew that they had received more than a fish sandwich. They knew that they had seen a sign. They knew that this meal pointed to something important about who Jesus was. They began to say, “This is indeed the prophet who has come into the world!”
We heard in our first reading for today the story of the prophet Elisha feeding a crowd. This story features some striking parallels to what these people experienced. An anonymous donor provided some barley loaves. There was more crowd than food, and yet, all ate and were satisfied. There were even leftovers! Sound familiar? You can understand why they would think Jesus was the prophet! The same thing was happening again!
They tried to make Jesus their king, but Jesus refused and withdrew from them – he wouldn’t be a king on their terms. He wouldn’t be coopted by their agendas or their felt needs. He had bigger things in mind, bigger things to accomplish – bigger fish to fry, we might say.
They were on the right track, in a way. Jesus was a prophet, insofar as he brought a word from God. He had come to be a king of sorts, although he would be a king unlike any they could imagine, with a kingdom not of this world.
But what this crisis reveals more than anything else is that Jesus had come to usher in a new Passover, a new saving event. What this crisis of not having enough food in the wilderness reveals is God had now come to them in person through his Son. God had come to feed them in the wilderness on his way to leading them to a new Promised Land.
A crisis doesn’t build character, it reveals it, and here it reveals Jesus to be the saving God who has come in the flesh to do more saving, this time from even greater powers. It reveals Jesus to be the one who fills every hunger through the miracle of his abundant grace.
The next crisis is told much more briefly, but it reveals much the same about Jesus. The disciples were out on the Sea of Galilee at night when a storm kicked up. They were three or four miles from the shore. Boats like theirs went under in those kinds of conditions all the time, so this really was a life-threatening crisis. It was dark and chaotic and topsy-turvy. The waves heaved up and down while the disciples heaved those fish sandwiches over the siderails. Just then Jesus came walking out to them on the sea. Walking on the water was a cool trick, but it was what Jesus said that reveals the most about him: “It is I,” Jesus said to them, “Do not be afraid.” I really wish Bibles would translate this better, because as it is here Jesus sounds a little bit like Mighty Mouse. “It is I! Here I come to save the day!” He has come to save the day, to be sure, but so much more is going on here with these words! This is ego ami in Greek, which literally translates as “I AM.” In Hebrew it is pronounced Yahweh.
So now it is time for you to have a little Sunday school quiz. Do you know what God said to Moses when Moses asked for God’s name? God said, Yahweh, “I AM.” And so this crisis reveals something about Jesus’ character, his identity. In the fear and chaos of that storm in the dark of night, Jesus revealed himself as Yahweh, as the Lord God, who had come close to them in their time of need. “I AM,” he said to them, “So do not be afraid.”
A crisis doesn’t build character, it reveals it. Through the Word we hear this morning God is revealing to us the truth about his Son. God is revealing to us who Jesus is, and why he has come. God is showing us that Jesus has come to be our savior, that he has come to be our Lord, that he is the Son of God who has come to be with us in the midst of the crises we experience.
Some of these crises are on a smaller scale. They are more personal. They have to do with the struggles and anxieties of daily life: “Where am I going to get the resources I need to survive?” “How am I going to make it through this day?” “How am I going to find nourishment and strength as I travel in this wilderness? What is going to sustain me?”
Other crises are on a much bigger scale. There has been election year chaos on a level we haven’t seen in this country since 1968, and we aren’t even to October yet. There is ongoing international violence, including the 12 children killed on a soccer field this weekend in a rocket attack in Israel. God is openly mocked on a global stage. Yes, you could say that life in this world has felt topsy-turvy and unstable and slightly nauseating.
These various crises, both big and small, reveal something about us. They reveal the wilderness we live in as we make our way through this world. They reveal the darkness and the chaos that kicks up and engulfs us from time to time. They reveal that we need a savior. They reveal that we need a Lord who can give us the strength and the peace and the hope that the world so clearly cannot give us.
The crises we hear about in our gospel reading, however, also reveal Christ to us. They assure us that he is the one who has come to feed our deepest hungers. They assure us that he is Lord of all creation, who ultimately has power over even the darkest, fiercest storms. They point us to the great truth that he comes to us with sacramental food and a holy Word.
Through his Holy Supper, he feeds us with miraculous food to nourish and sustain our souls. He meets us in our wilderness and strengthens us with the Bread of Life and the Cup of Salvation. (We’re going to be hearing a LOT more about this in the weeks ahead as the lectionary takes us on a deep dive into this chapter of John’s gospel.) In this meal he reveals himself to be our savior. In receiving the bread and the wine that are his Body and Blood we participate in the new Passover. We participate in the saving event of his death and resurrection.
Jesus comes to us with a Word to give us peace and calm in the midst of every storm. Whatever particular crises you might be enduring, whatever storms you might be facing, today Christ Jesus reveals himself to you through Word and Sacrament to assure you that he is God, and he is near. “It is I,” he says to you. “Do not be afraid.”
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 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
