John 8:31-36

Then Jesus said to 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 answered him, "We are descendants of Abraham and have never been slaves to anyone. What do you mean by saying, "You will be made free'?" Jesus answered them, "Very truly, I tell you, everyone who commits sin is a slave to sin. The slave does not have a permanent place in the household; the son has a place there forever. So if the Son makes you free, you will be free indeed.

I’m guessing some of you know more about Benjamin Zander than I did when I came across a TED Talk of his a couple of weeks ago. He is the conductor of The Boston Philharmonic Orchestra and the Boston Philharmonic Youth Orchestra, and has been an educator, and an author, and a motivational speaker, too. Maybe some of you have even read his work, The Art of Possibility, or if you’re a teacher, maybe you’ve seen something like what I want to share with you.

This is a lecture Zander gave to a room full of teachers and educators, centered around his philosophy of teaching, and teaching music and the arts in particular.

(For the sake of the sermon, I only showed this up to the 6 minute mark.)

While there are about 10 more minutes and three more sermons in what I didn't show you, but I hope you can see why I couldn’t help watching this and thinking of the Reformation theology of grace and gospel and good news we celebrate in the name of our Lutheran heritage on days like today.

I had someone tell me, just yesterday, that “that grace thing” is hard for them, and they wanted a clearer understanding of what grace is. Off the top of my head I said something like, “Grace is the un-earned, undeserved love and favor and mercy and forgiveness of God. There’s nothing we can do to earn that kind of love and there’s nothing we can do to un-earn that kind of love, either.” This, in a nutshell, is what I believe the message of the Reformation is all about.

I think Martin Luther showed up in the world like a 16th Century Benjamin Zander and invited a world full of Christian monks and professors and pastors and lay-people to start lighting up the world around them with a new way of understanding God’s love for them.

I think Martin Luther showed up in the world like a 16th Century Benjamin Zander, inviting Christian people, and the Church at-large, to stop grading the performance of God’s children like cranky, crotchety, old schoolmarms.

I think Martin Luther showed up in the world like a 16th Century Benjamin Zander, inviting Christian people to start living and singing and playing the music of God’s grace in their lives, not as an expectation to live up to – not as something they had to do, in order to win, or pass, or be saved. But Luther invited us to sing and play and live the music of God’s grace in our lives as a possibility to live into – as something we get to do and get to be and get to become, because God has already won the day, passed the test, saved us by grace through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

“If the son makes you free, you will be free, indeed.”

Jesus’ death and resurrection is like a big fat “A”, scrawled in the bright red, blood of a permanent cosmic Sharpie marker, right next to each of our names in the Book of Life.

“If the son makes you free, you will be free, indeed.” And the good news of Jesus’ death and resurrection is that we have been made free.

Jesus showed up, died, and was raised, so that we would know of our good pleasure in God’s eyes; so we would know that our A has already come – and so that we could live differently because of it…not like musicians comparing ourselves to those we pretend are better or worse or different from us. Not like sinners who are more than or less than or different from any other sinners out there.

The grace of God means to get rid of those voices in our heads and the inclination of our hearts that drown out the music of God’s love for us and for the world. The grace of God – made plain by the event of Jesus’ death and resurrection for our sake – is like the professor giving us an A on the first day of class and inviting us to dream about and wonder about and plan for ways we can live into the reality of that good news. The grace of God is like the professor giving us an A, in advance of whatever is to come, and inviting us to fall in love with the child of God we were created to be – flaws and failings, sins, successes, and all.

And I love when Benjamin Zander says, “you can give an A to anyone.” I love it not only because I believe that’s what God does – God is like Oprah with a set of car keys – “You get an A!” and “You get an A!” “You get an A!” and “You get an A!” I love it because he admits that it’s hard for teachers and it reminds me that it’s hard for Christians, too. But it’s how we’re called to live as recipients and benefactors of this unmitigated grace we proclaim.

Zander says, “you can give an A to the waitress, to your boss, to your Mother-in-Law and to a Taxi driver.” And to me that’s an invitation to a new way of living and moving and breathing in the world. It’s a way to let the rubber of our faith meet the road of our lives if we’ll let it.

Because if we practice the art of living like everyone gets an A, even before they’ve proven themselves to us, imagine how much more positive and vulnerable and brave and forgiving and merciful and kind we might grow to be. (Maybe I wouldn’t hold such a grudge against those knuckleheads who broke in and stole our drums and our amps and our stuff this week! Maybe we wouldn’t regret – forever – that we did this or did that or said that or didn’t say that. Maybe we’d believe more readily that if God’s grace is for me and for us, than it could be for him and for her and for “them,” just the same. )

If we practice the art of living like everyone gets an A, we might just start becoming – and inspiring others to become – more fully who and how God first created us all to be: in God’s image. Not slaves, but free. Not sinless, but forgiven. Not perfect, but full of possibility. Losers for sure – every one of us – but loved in spite of our selves, and compelled to change the world with that same kind of love in return.

Amen

Mark 10:17-31

As [Jesus] was setting out on a journey, a man ran up and knelt before him, and asked him, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?”Jesus said to him, “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone. You know the commandments: ‘You shall not murder; You shall not commit adultery; You shall not steal; You shall not bear false witness; You shall not defraud; Honor your father and mother.’ ” He said to him, “Teacher, I have kept all these since my youth.” Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” When he heard this, he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions.

Then Jesus looked around and said to his disciples, “How hard it will be for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!” And the disciples were perplexed at these words. But Jesus said to them again, “Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God! It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.” They were greatly astounded and said to one another, “Then who can be saved?” Jesus looked at them and said, “For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.”

Peter began to say to him, “Look, we have left everything and followed you.” Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields, for my sake and for the sake of the good news, who will not receive a hundredfold now in this age—houses, brothers and sisters, mothers and children, and fields, with persecutions—and in the age to come eternal life. But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first.”

Crosses and Crowns: Theology of the Cross vs. Theology of Glory

For those of you who don’t know, Reformation Sunday is on the way and it’s one of the high holy days of the church calendar for Lutheran-flavored Christians, because it marks the birthday, if you will, of the Protestant Reformation, or the becoming of the Lutheran church and so many other denominations of Christianity as we understand it today. And, it’s been a couple of years since we’ve made our way to Reformation Sunday by way of a sermon series. So I thought it would be fun, again, to consider, over the course of the next few weeks, some of the things that make Lutherans Lutherans.

So… “The Theology of the Cross vs. The Theology of Glory” … one of the more profound and meaningful starting points for understanding who and how God is in the world. Like so many other theological perspectives, what we’re talking about today isn’t unique to Lutherans in our day and age, but it is an understanding rooted in Reformation theology, with thanks to our namesake, Martin Luther, in many ways.

And I realized this week that I could preach this sermon with pictures in no time, flat; that I could describe the difference between the Theology of the Cross and the Theology of Glory, by simply showing you these two images:

Now, as tempting as it is to say “Amen” and call it a day, there is also more to say about this.

One of the ways we talk about God’s love, in Jesus, is that it always comes down. That’s what Lutheran theologians and seminary professors and pastors call a “Theology of the Cross,” which is meant to stand in contrast to something else we call a “Theology of Glory.” I like to think of God’s example for us in Jesus Christ as one who got down and dirty for the sake of grace in the world – a Theology of the Cross – as opposed to being all high and mighty – a Theology of Glory.

So I want to start with some of what this Theology of Glory smells like. (It really does kind of stink once you develop a nose for it.) If you want to find other examples of this, start a log of “Christian-themed” bumper stickers when you see them, or thumb through the “religious” themed get-well cards at the drug store, or, depending on your Facebook “friends list”, consider the platitudes and pleasantries posted there, or just go shopping for what’s hot at the local Christian book store. (“Happy, Happy, Happy: My Life and Legacy as Duck Commander,” for instance. I haven’t read the book, so I’m totally guessing, which may not be fair, but you get the point, right?)

Anything like, “God never closes a door without opening a window,” or “God never gives you more than you can handle” are some common examples of this Theology of Glory. Or there’s this: Jesus as Hulk Hogan, or Superman, or Duane “the Rock” Johnson, rather than the “Rock of Ages Cleft for Me.”

To the contrary, though, we have our Theology of the Cross – which means to remind us of the truth that sometimes the door closes and the window’s stuck, too. Sometimes, while God doesn't make the bad stuff come, life really does give us more than we can handle, plain and simple. And, in reality, the cross was not some sort of comic book kryptonite that sapped the power from Jesus for a spell – it killed him, utterly, completely, dead…signed, sealed and delivered into the hands of death and despair and oblivion.

The cross of Christ is a reminder and a message that God’s love for us and God’s call to us is about humility and suffering and struggle. God showed up to us in a stinky, smelly, underrated manger and God’s grace was unveiled to the world through an ugly, painful, lonely, desperate crucifixion and death.

And it is still that way. God shows up for us in places and in people and in opportunities where we least expect it – not in the high and mighty, but in the down and out; not in the rich and powerful, but in the poor and pitiful; not in the accepted and the exceptional, but in the neglected and the unacceptable, the left out, the lonely, the lost and the loser.

And God shows up through us, too – and here’s the invitation and the holy challenge of it all – when we embrace and engage and embody what is least among us. And, I would say, when we embrace and engage and embody the least and most lacking parts of ourselves … that’s how we experience resurrection and new life and the Kingdom of God in our midst.

Think, if you can, about some of the hardest, most vulnerable, sad and scary times of your life…(going through the basement or the attic or the garage after the funeral); think of some of your deepest, darkest struggles…(not making the team, not passing the test, sitting by that hospital bed waiting for the breathing to slow and to stop, walking out the door for the very last time); think about some of the greatest loss you’ve known…(that job, that relationship, that dream, whatever).

Maybe the door’s still closed in those places…maybe the window’s still stuck, too…maybe the light has not yet come…I’m sorry about that. But that’s what the Cross is – and there’s hope there by the grace of God. And those of you who’ve suffered, endured and survived losses like those – those who’ve been blessed to see around those corners – know something about God’s power and presence and grace – not just in spite of, but because of those moments, because of that time spent at the foot of Christ’s cross.

And that’s something like what I see Jesus trying to tell the rich man – and his disciples in this Gospel story for today. Usually I pay a lot of attention to the implications about money and financial stewardship in this little ditty, but it can be about a whole lot more than that, too. This rich man is trying to earn his way into heaven, really, by whatever he can do to accomplish that task. He wants to know, by what power, he can earn or deserve or be assured of his place on the other side of God’s eternity. He wants to skip to the good stuff, if you will, in whatever way he can make that happen.

And, using money as an example – as an indicator of his faithfulness – Jesus tells him just exactly what he doesn’t want to hear: “give it all away”; “become poor”; “become powerless”; “humble yourself, utterly”; “sacrifice everything.” Stop trying to earn it. Stop trying to deserve it. Stop trying to prove yourself or pass the test or power your way up the proverbial stairway to heaven. “Follow me, to the cross.” This way of life – this experience of salvation – this kingdom of God – comes with sacrifice, brokenness and persecutions, even; and with the first becoming last; the last becoming first; with winners becoming losers and with losers coming out on top.

God’s theology of the Cross says, “The truth will set you free. But first it’s going to hurt like Hell.” God’s theology of the Cross says, “the first will be last and the last will be first.” God’s theology of the Cross says, “the Son of Man must undergo great suffering and be rejected and handed over and be killed before rising on the third day.” God’s theology of the Cross says, “you may get more than you can handle, but I’ve come down to bear that burden right along with you and to show you that it can be done, thanks to my patient, steadfast, persistent grace and love and mercy.”

God’s theology of the cross means to give us hope in spite of our sacrifice and struggle and in spite of all that we might lose in this life as we know it.

And our inspiration and encouragement for this – the good news of it all – is, again, that God always comes down. God comes down in Jesus Christ – to this cross – to meet us wherever we may be. God comes down in Jesus Christ – to this cross – to sit with us when we fall. God comes down in Jesus Christ to a cross and through a tomb because all of this is meant to be more than just a way of thinking. It’s meant to be life for us – life lived trusting always in God’s power to win through losing, to know power through humility, to be love and grace and mercy in the face of a world that pretends to be so impossibly otherwise.

Amen

"Everyone Gets an 'A': Grace Matters" – John 8:31-36

"Crosses & Crowns" – Mark 10:17-31