Free Indeed - Reformation 2025

John 8:31-36

Jesus said to some of the Jews who had believed in him, “If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth and the truth will make you free.” They said to him, “We are descendant of Abraham, and have never been slaves to anyone. What do you mean by saying, ‘You will be made free.’?”

He answered them, “Very truly I tell you, anyone who commits sin is a slave to sin. The slave does not have a permanent place in the household, but the son has a place there forever. So, if the son makes you free, you will be free indeed.”

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Did you hear the breaking news this week about King Charles praying with Pope Leo in the Sistine Chapel on Thursday? It was breaking news because a Pope hadn’t shared space in worship with an English monarch since Henry VIII broke up with Rome in 1534 because, among other things, the Pope at the time refused to annul Henry’s first marriage to Catherine of Aragon.

Anyway, on Thursday, King Charles, who’s considered the supreme governor of the Church of England, sat near the altar in the Vatican as Pope Leo led worship that included two English royal choirs sharing space and song with the Sistine Chapel Choir. It was apparently, quite an occasion.

The fact that this was “breaking news” at all – in light of everything else going on in the world these days – was as fantastic as it was frustrating for me to hear in the week leading up to Reformation Sunday, which I never heard mentioned, by the way.

For one thing, it’s a good reminder that Martin Luther never meant for his beef with the Roman Catholic Church to split or divide or start new denominations of Christianity. Luther’s hope was to merely, but profoundly, change – to REFORM – the church he loved by expanding the way it practiced, proclaimed, and promised God’s grace to believers. It’s good to know that 508 years later, some the Pope and the King seem to be getting on board. Fantastic.

But it’s frustrating, too, because, if I weren’t a believer – let alone a Lutheran-flavored believer – I’d wonder what the heck was up with those Christians?

They believe in this Jesus who gave his life for the sake of the world, but it’s breaking-freaking news when two of his followers share space in worship? They preach a Gospel of grace, but they disagree about who’s allowed to receive it at the communion table? They say we’re all God’s children, but they have different sets of rules about which men or women are allowed to preach that Good News – or not? They say and sing “they will know we are Christians by our love” but they police that love when marriage isn’t “traditional?”

All of this is to say, things haven’t changed much – and certainly not enough – since that day Jesus reminded some of the Jews who believed in him about what it meant to be slaves to sin. The willful ignorance or spiritual amnesia evident in their response to him is shocking – “We’re descendants of Abraham and have never been slaves to anyone…”

Their Jewish identity as descendants of Abraham … and Isaac … and Jacob … and MOSES, too, was wrapped up in, and very much defined, by their historical slavery in Egypt, under Pharaoh. Sure maybe THEY, THEMSELVES, generations later, had never been slaves in the same way. But for them to forget about or to deny that piece of their history and – even more – to deny the freedom that was also theirs because of God’s deliverance, was part of Jesus’ point.

If it was that easy for them to forget or to deny the historical status of their ancestors as enslaved people, how easy was it for them to forget or to deny their own spiritual enslavement to the sin Jesus came to redeem? And, are we the same … or better … or any different?

On days like today – and very often as progressively Lutheran-flavored people on the planet – we like to see ourselves as being on the right side of history, as ones who “get it,” as the faithful ones who do grace with no strings attached, in ways others don’t. And I think that’s true a lot of the time, when we get it right.

But when we get too comfortable in that skin… when we blow our own proverbial horn too proudly… when we forget to look in the mirror and to the cross every now and then… we risk forgetting – like our ancestors in this morning’s Gospel – that, just like everybody else, we are slaves to sin, and need to be set free by the same mercy, grace, and love we know in Jesus.

This is Martin Luther’s understanding of grace that the Reformation set loose in the world … that we are all sinners, all beggars, all broken, all in need of forgiveness and redemption … in order to experience the fullness of life on this side of heaven and the next. But too many haven’t heard this good news. Too many deny the fullness of it for all people. And too many refuse to accept it for themselves and to share it quite so fully with others.

President Trump seems to be wrestling with a spiritual, existential crisis of sorts these days. More than once, recently, I’ve seen him imply that he’s not sure he’s getting into heaven. I’ve heard him ask reporters if they thought he was getting into heaven. I’m aware of what a lot of people might say, or desire, or even pray for in that regard. But I think Jesus would say, simply, “If the Son makes you free, you will be free, indeed.” Free from the sins you think will keep you from heaven. Free from the Sin that keeps you bound by fear and concern, right where you live. And free from the sins so many believe to be insurmountable and unforgiveable.

I had a couple of conversations this week about whether someone who dies by suicide is worthy of God’s heaven. Someone I care a great deal about was curious and concerned about a friend. Another person I know is sure that suicide is an unforgiveable sin. I’m certain Jesus would say, “If the Son makes you free, you will be free indeed.” Free – on this side of heaven – not to be bound or afraid or ashamed or enslaved – outside of clinical depression, of course – by whatever might tempt a person to such a fate. And free – on the other side of eternity, too – if all else fails – free to be redeemed, saved, and showered with a love you couldn’t find or feel on this side of it all.

And I’m convinced, if we could embrace and buy the good news of this kind of grace – in all of its fullness for all of God’s people – our concerns and conversations could change the world.

I mean, if we could see in all people the common ground we share where our sinfulness is concerned – EVERYONE WHO COMMITS SIN IS A SLAVE TO SIN, remember – then we would live and move and breathe and support policy and promote laws and do justice and share the Gospel and do God’s bidding – with more of a WE and US mission, than a THEY and THEM mentality.

And if we could see in all people the common ground we share where our promised redemption is concerned – IF THE SON SETS YOU FREE, YOU WILL BE FREE INDEED (yes, you and him and her and them, too) – than we might live with such astonishment and so much gratitude at the abundance of this gift, that we would live more generosity, more humility, more selflessness, more of the same kind of grace that has first been given to us. And wouldn’t that be a change, a transformation, a reformation the world could use right about now?

As part of the festivities at the Vatican last week, King Charles was gifted a special chair – for him to use during his visit and that will be reserved for use only by British monarchs in the future. It’s decorated with the king’s coat of arms and a phrase in Latin which means, “That they may be one,” which is a lovely gesture of hospitality, welcome, and Christian unity.

May we all imagine – not just popes and kings – but ourselves and each other – our neighbors and the strangers who surround us – sinners, all – sharing such a seat of welcome, hospitality, mercy, and forgiveness.

And may that change us for the better, change us for the sake of the world, and transform us into the saints God calls each of us to be in response to the savior we know in Jesus – the Son who has a permanent place in the household, who sets the table for the sake of the world, and who saves us all a seat, by way of his amazing grace.

Amen

Belonging and Believing

John 10:22-30

At that time, the festival of the Dedication took place in Jerusalem. It was winter, and Jesus was walking in the temple, in the portico of Solomon. So the Jews gathered around him and asked him, “How long will you keep us in the suspense? If you are the Messiah, tell us, plainly.”

Jesus answered them, “I have told you and you do not believe. The works that I do in my Father’s name testify to me, but you do not believe, because you do not belong to my sheep. My sheep hear my voice. I know them and they follow me. I give them eternal life and they will never perish. No one will snatch them from my hand. What the Father has given me is greater than all else and no one can snatch it from the Father’s hand. The Father and I are one.”

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“You do not believe because you do not belong to my sheep.”

“You do not believe because you do not belong.” What if that’s the whole tweet, as they say? What if that’s all we need to hear this morning? And what if you and I are supposed to be convicted by that – as followers of Jesus – rather than use it as some kind of judgement against those who consider themselves not to be followers of the Jesus we claim?

“You do not believe because you do not belong.”

Jesus is talking to the Jews who weren’t on board yet with what he was up to. And, with a little pastoral imagination, I like to think his disciples were within earshot of this conversation; that they were following him around, as usual, and that Jesus knew he was being heard by both at the same time; that he was speaking to both crowds at once – those who belonged and those who didn’t believe.

There are plenty of people in the world who don’t believe in Jesus – or God – or have a Christian faith for all sorts of rational, considered, thoughtful, theological reasons. Maybe they’re deliberately, purposefully atheists. Maybe they’re people of another faith – Jews, Muslims, Sikhs, Hindus, pagans. I’m not talking about them, necessarily.

Instead, I found myself wondering this week about those who don’t believe, but who would, could, might believe, if only we – as followers of Jesus – would do better at finding ways for them to BELONG, first. (“You don’t believe because you don’t belong…”)

I heard two stories just this week, in two very different, settings, from two very different sources, about two sets of parents who were struggling with the fact that their gay or lesbian children weren’t people of faith; didn’t go to church; didn’t believe or worship or practice a faith that their parents wished that they would. In one case, the child had been raised in the Church, but had fallen away from an active, practicing life of faith. In the other case, the family wasn’t one who had ever practiced a faith, but the father came to believe in mid-life, and wanted to bring his wife and grown children along with him for the journey. (For what it’s worth, one of these stories came by way of a colleague, here in Indianapolis. The other was from a completely unrelated story I heard on “This American Life.”)

Anyway, what these two sets of parents have in common, is their outspoken disapproval of their children’s sexuality, which is evident to the adult children they want to love, by either the theology they adhere to (“Love the sinner. Hate the Sin.” sort of stuff.), their political persuasion (the politicians and policies they support that do harm to their gay children), or both.

In other words, the children of these parents know that they don’t – and will never – BELONG to their parents’ faith communities or fit into their misguided view of the world, so how could they and why would they ever want to believe in the things their parents professed about a loving, gracious, merciful God?

“…you don’t believe because you don’t belong.”

In my opinion, so many people in so many walks of life are falling away from the faith or throwing it all out with the bath water, because they see Christianity connected with exclusion, judgment, hypocrisy, greed, violence, and more. People don’t believe because they don’t belong – or because they don’t want to belong – to a body that embodies any of those things. And, as hard and as sad and as frustrating as that is, it makes perfect sense to me. And it’s why we have so much work to do.

And I think that work starts with belonging. They don’t believe because they don’t belong.

People long to feel and to experience welcome, love, and affirmation. And when they do, they might begin to wonder about believing and embracing the God who promises it.

If we want people to feel like part of God’s family… If we want people to learn about the grace we proclaim… If we want people to believe in the wideness of God’s mercy, in the amazing love of our creator, in the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and in life everlasting…

I’m convinced that they need to know, trust, and feel like they BELONG, first. And I think our call is to show and to shout and to share the good news of that belonging as loudly and as clearly, as often and in as many ways as we can manage.

I heard another, beautiful story this week – perfect for Mother’s Day – about a different family altogether who proved what belonging can do.

Many years ago, this set of American parents adopted a 7 year-old boy from Romania, who had lived the first 7-and-a-half years of his life in an orphanage where he shared a crib with another boy his age that entire time. As they grew, they stayed in that crib, to the point that they had to sleep sitting up. They didn’t go to school. They didn’t go outside. They only left their crib to eat and to use the bathroom. Daniel, the boy who was adopted by the Americans in South Euclid, Ohio, never even knew the names of the adults who took care of him in that orphanage.

The short of the long is that Daniel came to the states utterly unprepared for the life with which his adoptive parents hoped to give him – he simply wasn’t ready socially, emotionally, or intellectually for a life with people who loved him. After 7 years in a crib, how could he be? And after a six-month honeymoon period with his new family in the states, things went downhill fast and furiously.

Daniel developed an anger and rage over all that he couldn’t process or understand about his experience in the orphanage, his having been put there in the first place by his birth parents, and his place in the world and with his new mom and dad. He threw tantrums they described as “tornadoes of rage … eight hour marathons where he would throw anything he could get his hands on.” There were thousands of holes in his bedroom walls from his violent outbursts.

He abused social workers and specialists. He choked a puppy. He gave his mom, Heidi, a black eye, once. He held a knife to her neck, another time. It got so bad they hired the equivalent of a bodyguard to be in the house, so that Heidi was never alone with her new son.

Finally – and I’m leaving out a lot of the story, mind you – they embarked on a fascinating, controversial treatment for Daniel’s diagnosed Attachment Disorder where they pulled him out of school, Heidi quit her job, and they spent several months side-by-side, literally no farther than three feet apart. If one of them went to the bathroom, the other waited outside the door. They only time they were not next to each other, was when they were sleeping.

They worked to establish the bond that’s supposed to be created between mothers and infants, under normal circumstances, by being very deliberate about eye-contact, for instance, and proximity. Daniel wasn’t allowed to ask for anything – he had to learn, from experience, that Heidi would provide basic needs for him, like food and drink. Daniel’s punishment for not playing along, or for doing something wrong, was called a “Time In,” where he would be subjected to time on the couch, being hugged by his mother.

Ultimately, it worked. After eight weeks of this and a year of “holding therapy” where the family of three cradled each other – holding 13 year-old Daniel like a newborn – for 20 minutes, every night for a year, Daniel began to transform, slowly, but surely, almost imperceptibly, into a boy who believed that he would be and could be and was LOVED by his parents.

Another way to say this, if you ask me, is that Daniel came to believe in that love, because he was finally convinced that he belonged to his new family. He believed because he belonged.

And I think this is our call as people of God in the world. People need to see and to know that they already belong to the good news and grace and eternal life we claim. And I think it’s our job and it should be our joy – even when it’s hard – to show that kind of love and belonging to them.

I think they need to see us marching at PRIDE parades.

I think they need to see us teaching about and practicing anti-racism.

I think they need to see our kids walking against homelessness and they need to see us giving money to their cause.

I think politicians need to receive our letters, our phone calls, and our votes – in the name of Jesus – that speak out on behalf of people who are hungry and homeless and criminalized for that. (Join us for that next Sunday, between services.)

I think the women who are served by our Agape ministry to sex workers need to experience the proximity and generosity of that ministry.

And the list goes on. But I’ve said enough. And, just because it couldn’t be more timely, I’ll close with something from the new Pope Leo that makes me think he’d agree with me. Apparently, he said this once:

“We are often worried about teaching doctrine, but we risk forgetting that our first duty is to communicate the beauty and joy of knowing Jesus.”

They don’t believe, because they don’t belong.

I think those who don’t believe what we claim to know about the grace of God need to experience it, first; they need to see us making room for them, for their doubts, and for their unbelief – whoever “they” may be. And that needs to happen, not because it’s our job to convince them of God’s love, but because we – and the world – will be blessed and better for having shared this love humbly, hopefully, and with a warm welcome of belonging, in Jesus’ name.

Amen

[To hear the full story of Daniel and his family, listen to Episode 317 of This American Life, “Unconditional Love.”]