Pentecost 3, June 29, 2025

 Acts 2

When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. 2And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. 3Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. 4All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.

Much of what is told in the gospels is all about the events of Jesus’ life (birth to resurrection), as well as things Jesus said and did in between that birth and new life. At Pentecost, the story 50 days after Easter Day, a shift happens. The risen Christ becomes the ascended Lord. Now all of us disciples are left staring up into the clouds mumbling, “Now what?” It was a very reasonable question.

Yes, Jesus had spoken about not leaving them abandoned by his death or his “I won’t be with you anymore”-ness. But what really did all that mean? It was hard to imagine. Being a called disciple didn’t mean you always understood what Jesus was talking about. It just meant you were called to listen and learn as best you could. 

For forty days after Easter the risen Christ spent time appearing to various disciples and kept teaching them. Then on Day 40, he ascended into heaven. For the next ten days, I assume the disciples were holding a very long discernment retreat. On the 50th day after Easter, they were all together in one place, with their retreat sticky notes and newsprint up on the walls recording their individual answers to questions like, “What I think Jesus would have us do if he was still here…” and “On a scale of 1 to 5, how confident are you that Jesus will return in the next two weeks?” Just when Peter asked, “Who wants to share first?”, a mighty wind blew through the windows and sucked all the sticky notes right off the walls. They knew that often in scripture God was present in cloud and wind. Next, they saw a flame above the heads of each one and yet, not a hair was charred. No one had to say it out loud, but they all thought, “This is what it was like when Moses saw the burning (unconsumed) bush!”

Scripture says they were filled with the Holy Spirit. They were filled with the power of the Spirit and empowered by it. One sign of this power was their ability to communicate the gospel in many languages. Yes, it was a miracle of communication, but more significantly, it was a miracle of community. That community abides today as the Christian Church, even with all its flaws and failings. Today, we are the faith descendants of those original Pentecost people.

The questions before us this Pentecost 2025 are: What sets your hearts and your hair on fire now? Where do you find your passion? What concern/issue/injustice/need keeps you up at night and how might the power of the Holy Spirit work through you to address it? How do you tell that gospel story that burns within you?

These were all things our ancestors in faith had to figure out in their generation. They made mistakes. They squandered opportunities. But they were also brave. They were willing to be guided in a new direction. They trusted that God was truly in the wind and fire, and  in their messy ministry. They had a lot of “what now” questions and so do we. We have gratefully inherited the trust and confidence in God of those first disciples. And so, with Christ, we continue to abide.  And on we go, in Jesus’ Name.

John 5

1 After this there was a festival of the Jews, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem.

2 Now in Jerusalem by the Sheep Gate there is a pool, called in Hebrew Beth-zatha, which has five porticoes. 3 In these lay many invalids—blind, lame, and paralyzed. 5 One man was there who had been ill for thirty-eight years. 6 When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had been there a long time, he said to him, “Do you want to be made well?” 7 The sick man answered him, “Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up; and while I am making my way, someone else steps down ahead of me.” 8 Jesus said to him, “Stand up, take your mat and walk.” 9 At once the man was made well, and he took up his mat and began to walk.

Now that day was a sabbath.

This reading from John 5 is for us lectionary lovers therare “alternate” gospel for the day. It’s read much less than the primary gospel for this Sixth Sunday of Easter from John 14 “do not let your troubles be troubled,” including the promise to send the Spirit among us. This story from John 5 is a healing story with a few different elements.

Ancient times were a troubling era to live with a disability. Not only did you live with a chronic condition that caused you to be unable to see, hear, speak, walk, or think as well as most; but you were also thought to be spiritually disabled as well.

Disability was often considered a punishment for some sin that you or your parents committed. It was also before modern medicine and technological advances like cochlear implants or even wheelchairs.

The large pool at Bethsaida was a place where many with diseases and disabilities gathered or even livedtogether like homeless communities in many cities. An interesting element is a reference to the water in this pool occasionally becoming stirred up or troubled. We know of places in the world, like Old Faithful, where nature puts on a water show. We are attracted to such places as tourists, but also as people seeking healing as President Roosevelt did for his polio paralysis at WarmSprings, GA. The picture here is of another such place, one of the few “blow holes” in the world. This one is called La Bufadora near Ensenada, Mexico. I visited there in April and took this picture. You can see the many tourists who are gathered there hoping to see it make a spectacular display.

The 1st Century people in Jerusalem had no scientific knowledge of why these waters occasionally stirred, so their traditional explanation was that an angel came and make the waters troubled. They also believed that if a person who was in physical trouble entered them, they would be healed. The man in the story that Jesus notices has been paralyzed for 38 years, which back then was literally a lifetime. 

It’s rather heartbreaking that this man reports to Jesus that he could never make his way to the waters while they were troubled because others would always get ahead of him. Imagine the desperate rush to throw yourself in those waters!

From a New Testament perspective, it’s a typical healing story by Jesus. It also becomes another occasion for Jesus to be criticized for healing (doing work) on the Sabbath. The man is also criticized for breaking the Sabbath by working to “pick up his mat and walk.” Oh well, we’ll leave those issues for another day.

I’m grateful for the following poem by Barrie Shepherd on this story in John 5. He does what poets do so well: emotionally analyze the obvious and help us see it with different eyes. In this poem, Bethsaida, he reflects on his 81-year-old self (a senior citizen in our time as that 38-year-old was in his) concerning his morning routine of jumping in a pool and swimming laps. It’s part of his seeking after the miracle to live longer and better. Such reflection helps us ponder what ways we seek miracles in our own time. You might want to make a list.

Bethsaida

by J. Barrie Shepherd 

These waters, I must trouble for myself,
in an age of the absence of angels, as I plunge,
first of the day to break the lambent surface of the pool,
and commence my daily reaching after miracles,
swimming laps at almost eighty-one.
The miracle I seek these recent years has been defined,
and then refined, by that old friendly temporizer, “yet”;
no longer seeking not-to-die-at-all, just not-to-die-quite-yet,
to win a couple bonus years, in which to pen another poem
or two, to pile a few more chosen words onto this heap
I have—for Oh so long—been working on.
Any healing that might come will clearly have to be
short term. Until, that is, I reach the final turn,
take up my beggar’s bed, and walk.

Revelation 7

17 for the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd,
  and he will guide them to springs of the water of life,
 and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.

I’ve been away on my Easter break for a couple of weeks, but I’m now back pondering the texts of scriptures and our current context along with all of you. Since Easter has consistently been seven weeks long from the 4th century on, we are now in the middle of it. Easter is over and done everywhere except the traditional Church. We’ll keep singing our hymns out of the Easter section of the worship book and proclaiming, “Alleluia, Christ is risen” at every opportunity; but it will seem as though the scriptures for the day aren’t cooperating. 

On the first three weeks of Easter, we hear stories of the risen Christ appearing first to Mary Magdalene and then to the other disciples. In fact, scripture tells us that Jesus appeared, taught, and inspired his followers for a full forty days after his resurrection. That’s the reason we celebrate it so long. But as we roll on into the 4th week of Easter, we cease to hear such stories. It’s not that we’ve moved on, we have gone deeper in the meaning of Easter.

In our Lutheran community, we always hear psalms, songs, and gospel readings that reflect the image of Christ as both lamb and shepherd. We have a long-standing tradition of calling this Easter 4 celebration, “Good Shepherd Sunday.” Our scriptures from Genesis to Revelation are rich with metaphors, images, and poetry that simultaneously inspire and perplex us. 

On this Sunday we are comforted and confronted with a paradoxical image of Christ as both Lamb and Shepherd. Psalm 23 and John 10 will paint the serene picture of that devoted shepherd carrying a little lamb on his shoulders. But as our highlighted text from Revelation reminds us, Christ is not only shepherd but is the slain Passover lamb. Christ is complicated. Christ is paradox. Christ is not one thing. Christ is everything.

Many of you may have watched the movie “Conclave” about the process is the Vatican of gathering the world’s cardinals to elect a new pope from among themselves. And now today, as I write, the real Conclave gathered to elect a new Pope has done just that. Blessings to Pope Leo XIV and all our siblings in Christ in the Catholic Church. This American cardinal was certainly considered a dark horse candidate largely because he was from the U.S. 

Eerily, the in the movie about this process, the cardinal who is eventually chosen as Pope is an outsider, unknown, one who has served in the Congo and is now the Cardinal of Kabul. While many of the other cardinals sequestered in the Sistine Chapel are jockeying for votes and bruising themselves on their ambition, this Cardinal Benitez of Kabul displays a selfless attitude and an unswerving commitment to the Church. 

He has been in the real trenches of ministry, has been a victim of violence, and knows what it is to struggle with personal and pastoral challenges. I realized, he was the only cardinal in the Conclave who was the Jesus figure in the room. He was the lowly lamb whose meekness and gentleness made him the perfect Shepherd.

Christ Jesus was not and is not a flat two-dimensional figure. He defies description with our limited language. Only poetry and paradoxical metaphors can begin to touch the edges of his essence. Easter celebrates the risen Christ with all the language we can beg and borrow. Yet, he remains: Christus Paradox. 

Today is Holy Wednesday in this holiest week of the Christian year. It’s, of course, a pastorally and liturgically hectic time for parish pastors. I love the rich remembrances and gospel challenges of this time. I secretly wish I could don my black cassock all week and only attend to the liturgies, read theological and devotional literature, and make home communion visits. But no matter how much I think I’ve planned ahead, it’s just never to be.  I’m not complaining, just sayin’.

Nevertheless, one book in my theological library always calls to me this time of year. It’s Borg and Crossan’s The Last Week: A Day-by-Day Account of Jesus’s Final Week in Jerusalem. It uses Mark’s gospel because only this one of the four gives a day-by-day account from the entry into Jerusalem to Easter dawn. Of course, it doesn’t say things like, “on Monday Jesus did this, on Tuesday he did something else.” But Mark does leave wonderful date stamps and time stamps such as “the next day” or “when it was evening”.

The authors of this book guide us through Holy Week. I have long loved one of the revelations they make at the very beginning of their narrative as they relate the Palm Sunday story. They reveal things that aren’t spoken in the gospels because everybody hearing these stories in the first century didn’t need to be told.

Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem seems an odd story to our modern ears. What was this parade all about? Borg and Crossan remind us that in the year 30, two processions entered Jerusalem that spring day at the beginning of Passover week. One was a peasant celebration, the other an imperial procession. From the east, Jesus rode a donkey down from the Mount of Olives. From the west, Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor, entered Jerusalem riding a horse at the head of a column of imperial soldiers. Jesus was proclaiming the kingdom of God. Pilate proclaimed the power of the empire. It is the clash of these two kingdoms that comes to a climax in this Holy Week. Mark doesn’t mention this contrast because it was simply standard practice of the day. What he focuses on is what Jesus is doing, which was in its own way an act of rebellion. Mark tells us this entry of opposites was no coincidence. Jesus had planned it in advance.

In our culture and even in our faith lives, we frequently proclaim that religion and politics don’t mix or shouldn’t. But they always have and always do. Holy Week is a drama in which these worlds collide. The whole passion story is political through and through. The political world is obsessed with who has control, who wins, who has the power to rule. 

Much to some of the disciples’ dismay, Jesus did not fight back. He didn’t rain down fire from heaven. He didn’t even answer any questions at his trial. He didn’t meet violence with violence. Even those crucified next to him tried to shame him into fighting back. He just quietly suffered until the pain finally came to an end. 

The crucifixion, the meaning of the cross, is both mystery and miracle. It was a political act of resistance. Crucifixion was the worst of Roman capital punishment. The political machine did its worst. But it couldn’t destroy God’s way in the world. Love wins. That’s the end of the story and its beginning.

Luke 15

There was a man who had two sons.

If you think the parables of Jesus are like Aesop’s fables with a single moral point to the story that can be taught and learned, think again. Jesus’ parables are often open-ended with the hearer to determine what is to be learned that day in her or his circumstance. In other words, they are living documents read through a kaleidoscope. 

I loved those tubes of wonder when I was a kid. They have two or more mirrors tilted to each other at an angle. A repeated reflection shows through at the other end. Beautiful. We can see many perspectives as they move and change.

The parable many call “The Prodigal Son” begins with the simple sentence, “There was a man who had two sons.” From the get-go we see the kaleidoscope’s three reflecting mirrors: the father, the younger son, and the older son. The parable could be named after any one of them, but traditionally it’s the younger son who gets the spotlight. Should he?

Those mirrors are significant when seeing and hearing the parable but they aren’t the only ones. Another mirror is you, the hearer. And yet another one is your context. You are in a different circumstance than the last time you may have heard this parable. The world is at a different place. The kaleidoscope has turned a notch or two.

At its heart, this is a parable of sheer grace. The grace extended to the younger, foolish son, is abundant at the joy of the son’s return. Many parents have a wayward child either temporarily or permanently. As a pastor, I’ve seen their anguish. Whether the child is lost due to poor decisions, drugs, mental illness, or some other stumbling block to their living; parents often give them money or chances or understanding in abundance. Others look at such parents and believe them gullible idiots.   

Many read this parable with the assumption that the younger son was truly repentant of his poor behavior and really would have come home to serve as a slave. Maybe he meant it in his desperation, but do you think he’s honest in his confession? Such adult children have been found to take advantage like this with steady repetition.

The elder son is steadfast, dedicated to the family business and to the family. If these sons are like most brothers who share a bedroom and who know each other’s secrets, my guess is that the elder brother knows the younger’s intentions better than Dad. Maybe that’s why he’s angry at this over-the-top welcome. Might he wonder why bad behavior is being rewarded with grace and mercy? And perhaps this wandering and returning has happened before.

Families are complicated, because people are complicated. We are crippled with our sinful nature and often do wrong even when we know better.

 Sometimes we have no idea how terribly screwed up we are, and yet God continues to love us. Every word of this parable is underlined with a Sharpie highlighting God’s amazing grace and forgiveness. God is often immensely foolish for the sheer love of us. Welcome Home!

Leviticus 19

9When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not reap to the very edges of your field, or gather the gleanings of your harvest. 10You shall not strip your vineyard bare, or gather the fallen grapes of your vineyard; you shall leave them for the poor and the alien: I am the LORD your God.

Luke 13

31At that very hour some Pharisees came and said to him, "Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you." 32He said to them, "Go and tell that fox for me, 'Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work. 

Many will hear this Sunday the story of Jesus weeping over beloved Jerusalem, center of the world, center of the holy. We will hear Jesus receiving a warning from an unlikely source. Some of the Pharisees warn him to flee from the city because horrible King Herod already has a handful of nails bearing his name. 

The Pharisees are often portrayed in the four gospels as a group of religious legalists who are seeking to debate Jesus or trap Jesus. They are the bad guys in the gospels, though not the worst guys. They emerged around 150 BCE and were a significant force in the time of Jesus. But, like all groups of people, they aren’t monolithic. Some were intrigued with Jesus’ teaching, some had dinner with him, some like Nicodemus came to learn from him in secret. In this story, they come to warn him that he’s in great danger. In other words, in this case, some of them are allies with Jesus. What did they have in common?

The Pharisees loved Jerusalem at the center of their world as much as Jesus did, and they hated what Rome and those who collaborated with them had made of this cherished holy city. While this little part of Sunday’s story is referred to as Jesus weeping over Jerusalem, or captured in artwork as Jesus, the mother hen, gathering her chicks under her wings; I wanted to point out this often ignored sign of allyship between Jesus and the Pharisees. 

Since “love of God and love of neighbor” are the very heart of the Bible, the concept of “allyship” is peppered throughout scripture in both subtle and obvious ways. Allyship became a buzz word in the corporate world around 2019 and means the “active support for the rights of a minority or marginalized group without being a member of it.” There are four pillars of allyship: yielding, listening, learning, and action. You guessed it, allyship is a DEI staple! Jesus wasn’t a Pharisee, but some of the Pharisees had his back.

The verses above from Leviticus are a different example of allyship in the Bible. In the heart of a book of the Bible many barely know, specific commandments are given that illuminate what love of neighbor looks like. In these verses, those who are privileged to possess land and crops are commanded to be allies to those who have little. In some ways it was like what we do today with our Food Pantries, buying some extra food on our grocery store runs to give to the pantry for those unseen folks in need of help. In ancient times, those with crops and vineyards were commanded to leave some of the fruits of the earth in the fields so those with few resources could come by and take what was left. 

Allies aren’t the same as friends who know you personally, who love you for you. Allies are people unlike you yet are ones who clearly see you as a fellow child of God, worthy of compassion and care. They have your back. They have the courage to publicly support your journey. Often, we never know who our allies really are. Give thanks for them today. 

Jeremiah 17

7 Blessed are those who trust in the Lord,
 whose trust is the Lord.
8 They shall be like a tree planted by water,
 sending out its roots by the stream.
It shall not fear when heat comes,
 and its leaves shall stay green;
in the year of drought it is not anxious,
 and it does not cease to bear fruit.

This is a beautiful piece of scripture, isn’t it? It’s full of hope for those who are like trees planted by water. They seem to survive anything. While this is a comforting metaphor, the prophet Jeremiah is often called the “prophet of doom.” Why?

Well, Jeremiah was one of those prophets living and preaching during extremely difficult political times. His prophetic career started around 627 BCE in Israel and continued until 587 BCE. You might recognize that last date as the ancient 9.11 for the kingdom of Judah. Jeremiah saw that destruction of Jerusalem by the Babylonians coming. He saw it as God’s judgment on the people for their wickedness. Mostly, he preached tough sermons about their false and insincere worship, and their failure to trust God in their national affairs. Their sin and stubbornness would be their undoing. He said some foreign nations were more loyal to their pagan/false gods than Judah was to the real God of all. Ouch!

What the metaphor about the tree next to streams of water does is offer a very specific hope rather than, if you will, generalized hope. You see, Dr. Doom here assumes that the growing Babylonian empire marching their way is going to succeed in conquering his people. In his theology, God is either causing it or allowing it, as punishment for Israel’s multivalent sins. This theological position of God punishing us with tragedy remains a debate. The Bible speaks both of God causing harm because of divine anger toward us and refusing to cause harm out of love for us. I would say Jeremiah sees it going both ways over a span of time. But at this particular time in his history, he realizes destruction is coming.

He tells the people so and speaks for God in Jeremiah 17:4 saying, “by your own act you shall lose the heritage that I gave you.” And he was right. The Babylonians did march in, destroyed the Temple, took the strongest into exile (for 70 years) and left the old and weak to fend for themselves in what must have looked like Gaza right now. He tells the people they’ll just have to submit to this military incursion, to God’s punishment, and to endure decades in exile.

How can they possibly endure? How can they raise children and grandchildren in a foreign land, surrounded by foreign gods, away from the Temple and all that made them a people?

Even in Babylon, the prophet says with hope, you can be a tree planted by streams of water. Be the tree with deep roots that can endure through drought and heat. Continue to flourish. Find a way.

Some of the scriptures we hold most precious were written during this time in Babylonian exile. Most scholars agree that the creation story of Genesis 1 was written during the Exile. Others say about 80% of the Old Testament was written done during this time to preserve their stories of God for future generations – including us!

It was one of the ways the exiles were trees planted by water. It was how they stayed spiritually hydrated. Their children and grandchildren never saw Jerusalem. All they knew was Babylon. But they kept praying that one day they would be released and allowed to return. After all, empires don’t last forever.

Jeremiah, prophet of doom and preacher of hope, encourages us to ponder how we stay spiritually hydrated in dry and difficult times. How will we preserve our faith, our beliefs, our knowledge of God for future generations?

Our physical bodies cannot live without water. Our spiritual selves languish without the living water of God’s Word. Stay hydrated in difficult times. We need you!

Luke 2

29 “Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace,
  according to your word;
30 for my eyes have seen your salvation,
31 which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples,
32 a light for revelation to the Gentiles
  and for glory to your people Israel.”
 

This Sunday is February 2 and comes in the middle of our Epiphany season of light. This date is liturgically significant (nope, not Groundhog Day!) For the church ancient and modern, it marks the 40th day after Christmas and therefore the official end of the Christmas cycle. The gospel reading for this day is always the story from Luke 2 of Mary and Joseph bringing baby Jesus to the Temple in Jerusalem for his presentation to the Lord. There they encounter Simeon who felt led by the Spirit to go to the Temple that day and encounter the 84-year-old Anna, who was a prophet who had lived in the Temple for many decades.

In Luke’s telling, it was Simeon who proclaimed this baby as the promised Savior, a light to all peoples. Because of this image of Christ as Light, many churches speak prayers of blessings for the candles which will provide light in their homes and in their sanctuaries. This little festival is called Candlemas.

The newly baptized are given a lighted candle at their baptism as the pastor exhorts him or her with the words of Jesus: Let your light so shine before others that they may see your good works and give glory to your God in heaven. Letting our lights shine is often a way Christians describe their discipleship to live the gospel by being an active part of a worshiping community, by loving and serving their neighbors, by a radical inclusiveness, by striving for justice in all the earth, and by caring for creation.

Many wonder how we can faithfully keep our lights shining in a world filled with candle snuffers. Our faith encourages us to pray, to go deep as a community, to maintain our hope, and to be brave. These are all our tools, but so are the tools of other disciplines. 

Sociologist Jennifer Walter recently wrote a wise article to help us keep our lights shining as we navigate these times when despair can crush our hope. Here is her wisdom concerning what is happening in our country and what we can do about it. She says:

As a sociologist, I need to tell you:

Your being overwhelmed is the goal.

The flood of 200+ executive orders during the first days exemplifies Naomi Klein's "shock doctrine" - using chaos and crisis to push through radical changes while people are too disoriented to effectively resist. This isn't just politics as usual - it's a strategic exploitation of cognitive limits.

Media theorist McLuhan predicted this: When humans face information overload, they become passive and disengaged. The rapid-fire executive orders create a cognitive bottleneck, making it nearly impossible for citizens and media to thoroughly analyze any single policy.

Agenda-setting theory explains the strategy: When multiple major policies compete for attention simultaneously, it fragments public discourse. Traditional media can't keep up with the pace, leading to superficial coverage and resulting in weakened democratic oversight and reduced public engagement.

What now?

Set boundaries: Pick 2-3 key issues you deeply care about and focus your attention there. You can't track everything - that's by design. Impact comes from sustained focus, not scattered awareness.

Use aggregators & experts: Find trusted analysts who do the heavy lifting of synthesis. Look for those explaining patterns, not just events.

Remember: Feeling overwhelmed is the point. When you recognize this, you regain some power. Take breaks. Process. This is a marathon.

Practice going slow: Wait 48hrs before reacting to new policies. The urgent clouds the important. Initial reporting often misses context.

Build community: Share the cognitive load. Different people track different issues. Network intelligence beats individual overload. 

Remember: They want you scattered. Your focus is resistance.

I acknowledge, as do many others, that some believe all the decisions being made in our country right now are making things brighter rather than darker. But for those who are feeling loss, stress, and hopelessness, I hope these words reignite the flame within you. As the old spiritual sings, “Keep your lamps trimmed and burning!”

1 Corinthians 12

4 Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; 5 and there are varieties of services, but the same Lord; 6 and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone.

…12For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ. 

Wow, I’m so conflicted this week about what to write for this quick Bible Study and about what to preach on Sunday. The problem is, I have so many directions to choose from. I think my sermon will focus on the wonderful Epiphany story from John 2 of the “water turned to wine wedding in Cana.” But we also have a reading from 1 Corinthians, partly quoted here. The words Paul wrote in this letter to his contentious and frequently divided congregation are well known. He reminds all of us that as the baptized community we are no longer a bunch of unattached individuals but are part of a faith family. We are one body, he says. And just as a functioning human body has different parts and organs, each performing as needed to support the body, so it is with us. We are connected to one another and need each other. Every ministry project is a group project.

You probably remember “group projects” from your school days. They seemed unfair to many of us because it always happened that a few people did most of the work and everybody received the same grade. Perhaps you hated that. But guess what? In these group projects called ministry, we all get the same grade, too. You might call these grades: grace, love, mercy, forgiveness. Everybody receives them as ones created and claimed by God. There is no meritocracy here, only callings.

I do like this message from Paul a lot, but then this week, many pages of content came my way that highlighted this scripture with a neon marker. It’s so much content that I couldn’t read it all in time for this study, but I will soon. Here’s the super quick version to direct you to these three resources, if you choose. One comes from a journalist, one from the government, and another from a megachurch consultant. 

In the February issue of The Atlantic, journalist Derek Thompson wrote, “The Anti-Social Century.” Here in this 32-page article, he describes how Americans are now spending more time alone than ever. Because of this phenomenon, our personalities, politics, and even our relationship to reality are changing. Yikes. The Christian community built on connection should be worried about this trend. And now in a new report, the Surgeon General has issued a warning (in an 80-page document) that our trends toward isolation and loneliness are creating a public health epidemic. Also, yikes. 

More positively, but also more challenging for the church, megachurch pastor/consultant Carey Nieuwhof from Canada (my go-to person on the wisdom from all things megachurch), just published a blog/podcast of interest. In it he talks with the very successful pastor of Nashville’s Way Church who has grown a church to 700 persons in 14 months with an average age of 25! His magic bullet? Focus on relationships and connections rather than content. “Content” meaning super great sermons, wonderful Bible studies, and other teaching tools. The point being that trying to be a church with the greatest content around isn’t worth the time and money it once was. Why? Because content is everywhere and our folks can shop around online for great sermons, spirituality resources, inspiring Bible studies, etc. Instead, as Paul said, the key to our unique community is “connection.” Focus on that first, and everything else will flow from there. 

If all these studies and media posts about the epidemic of anti-social behavior and chronic loneliness are correct, connection is exactly where we need to focus our ministry. People are shunning it and desperate for it at the same time. Wowzers, you all definitely have my attention!