Gospel of John

Decisions, Decisions, Decisions

John 18:33-37

Then Pilate entered the headquarters again, summoned Jesus, and asked him, “Are you the King of the Jews?” Jesus answered, “Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?” Pilate replied, “I am not a Jew, am I? Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me. What have you done?” Jesus answered, “My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here.” Pilate asked him, “So you are a king, then?” Jesus answered, “You say that I am a king. For this I was born and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.”


Decisions. Decisions. Decisions.

One of mine this week was to get some long overdue tires replaced on my car before the snow and ice and cold of winter arrives in force. Every day I decide whether I have the time or the discipline or both to get to the gym in the morning before work. I had a seminary professor who packed the same exact thing for lunch every single day of the week so that he had one less thing to think about and decide upon on a daily basis.

Decisions. Decisions. Decisions.

We’ve been stewing about some big ones as a country and as a congregation, lately, too. Obviously, the election was all about deciding who would be President – among other things. And at Cross of Grace, we’ve asked each other to make a decision about how we will support our Building and Outreach Fund. (I know some of you are still thinking about that. Remember, those commitments are set to begin in December. Hint. Hint. Hint.)

Decisions. Decisions. Decisions.

Part of being alive is to have decisions to make and the nature of a decision is that there’s usually some kind of pressure to get it made. And if there’s not, time is likely to make your decisions for you. I could have waited a bit longer to get my new tires, but the season’s first snow and a road trip to Columbus helped me make that call – before an accident or a blowout made it for me.

And far too often – barring some kind of emergency – the only way to be sure you’ve made the right decision is to make it and then to wait and see.

And I can’t read this morning’s Gospel without wondering about Pilate’s decision. Talk about a dilemma! In the moments leading up to Jesus’ crucifixion, Pilate had a job to do – and a decision to make – and it’s been the source of many questions and much curiosity for generations that always come to fore when this reading shows up on Christ the King Sunday.

Pontius Pilate was getting pressure from the people on one side and orders from King Herod on the other. And his time and little chat with Jesus didn’t make the decision any easier.

“Are you the king of the Jews?” Pilate asks Jesus. “Why do you want to know?” Jesus asks Pilate.

“What have you done?” Pilate wonders. “It’s nothing you’d understand,” Jesus explains, “I’m not from this world.”

“You are a king, though, right?” Pilate insists. “Whatever you say,” Jesus seems to tease him, “you’ll know the truth soon enough.” “Do what you’ve gotta do.”

Decisions. Decisions. Decisions.

Sometimes the only way to know if you’ve made the right one is to make it… and to wait… and to see what comes of it. And I get the impression that that’s what Pontius Pilate did. He chose – what the people wanted – and he handed Jesus over to be crucified. And, I wonder when hindsight kicked in for Pilate. I wonder when the moment came that he realized what he had been a part of. I wonder … when Pilate looked back on his decision to let Jesus take the fall … did he rationalize or repent or rejoice?

What’s the hardest decision you’ve had to make – or that you’ve made lately? Who to invite to the party? Or who to ask to the dance? To take the job or to quit one? To end a relationship or to begin a new one; to punish a child or to forgive a friend; to try something new or to hold onto something familiar; to confess a sin; to let go of a grudge?

What’s the hardest decision on your plate right now? …

Decisions. Decisions. Decisions.

We all have them and if we don’t right now, we will soon enough. Some that will impact our life and some that will do nothing more than change our plans for the weekend. But no matter how big or small the decision, I think we could all use a little help – which is something of what Christ the King Sunday is about for me.

It’s the last Sunday of the Church year. It’s our last chance for some holy perspective before we begin another season of Advent and waiting and getting ready for Christmas. It’s an invitation to take a last look back before we start looking forward again.

Christ the King Sunday – with this strange foray into the crucifixion of Jesus, just before we prepare for his birth, yet again – is about perspective. It’s about hindsight. It’s about clarity and purpose. And it’s about decisions. Whether it’s about new tires, exercise, elections, or financial commitments; whether it’s about what you’ll have for lunch or where you hang your hopes for the future, Christ the King and the promises of Jesus, are about deciding.

See, we often look at Pilate as the one who had the decision to make. To crucify Jesus or to set him free. To make King Herod happy … to appease the people … to save his own behind. We can look at Pontius Pilate and be angry with him or feel sorry for him or wonder what would have happened had he decided differently.

But really, Christ the King Sunday and the story of Jesus’ crucifixion aren’t just about Pilate, the governor of Judea; or King Herod the ruler for Rome; or the Jews, the chief priests, and the crowds in Jerusalem. Christ the King Sunday is about you and me. The decision Pilate had to make is as much mine as it is yours – and ours together.

Decisions. Decisions. Decisions.

It’s not about getting into heaven, as too many pretend. It’s not about making our time here easier than it might be otherwise, that would be easy, if it were possible. The decision we’re called to make today – and every day – isn’t about saving Jesus from the crucifixion, it’s too late for that. And it’s not about coming up with the right answers or earning our salvation – that’s already been decided, too, thanks be to God.

The decisions we’re called to consider on Christ the King Sunday – and every day – are about the difference Jesus makes in our life and about the difference he – and we – can make in the world.

Because today’s reminder is that Jesus was a different kind of king – one not from or of the broken world where we live. Jesus was a king who decided for love instead of judgment. He was a different kind of king who decided for peace instead of war. He was a different kind of king who decided for hope instead of despair; rags instead of riches; generosity instead of greed; humility instead of pride; thorns instead of jewels. And he was a king who opted to hang on a cross rather than to sit on a throne.

Decisions. Decisions. Decisions.

Large or small, they’re ours to make. Deadlines or not, their time will come. Right or wrong, we’ll live with the results.

No matter how many or how difficult or how varied the decisions may be that life puts before us, the cross of Christ the King blesses us with a perspective that makes them endurable, that gives them meaning, and that makes our choices different, we pray, by the influence of God’s grace.

Life with Jesus as our King means to put everything else into perspective. Christ the King reminds us that God chose grace. Christ the King reminds us that God chose forgiveness. Christ the King reminds us that God chose death and resurrection and new life and good news.

And Christ the King reminds us that God has chosen each of us – you and me – and that our decisions get to be made with a holy kind of faith and boldness and freedom because of it. In a world that too often decides otherwise, we get to choose grace. We get to choose justice. We get to choose generosity and forgiveness and hope and love and Truth – because God has chosen them all for us first – for good – and forever – in the name of Jesus Christ, our King.

Amen

"We Are Loved"

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 for ever. So if the Son makes you free, you will be free indeed.


A little over 20 years ago, Rolling Stone magazine published its first list of the 500 greatest albums of all time. They did so because people were talking about the death of the album, probably in large part thanks to Napster and young teens downloading songs from limewire on the family computer and burning cd’s with random songs. Rolling Stone has updated that list a few times since the original release, most recently just last December, 2023. According to them, Blue by Joahnie Mitchel came in at three, followed by the Beach Boy’s Pet Sounds at number 2, and taking the top spot at number 1 was Marvin Gaye’s “What's Going On”.

I am not here to argue about what albums should have been on there or which one’s they got wrong, though I feel I should mention not one Indigo Girls album made the list making one of your pastor’s very sad. The list is quite arbitrary, mainly because it was simply ranked choice voting by a variety of artists, producers, and critics. I think many would argue that like beauty, good music lies in the ear of the listener. And while I agree, there are some things I think great music does to or for a person. Now I am just a pastor who played the Tuba for five years, so take this with a grain of salt, but for me Great music proclaims a truth that we experience in our lives. Through storytelling, the melody, or the art of its composition, It can tell us something that we need to know, a truth we might not have otherwise understood.

On this Reformation Sunday we focus on music and the good it does in our lives and faith, because this year we celebrate the 500th anniversary of the first Lutheran Hymnal. In 1524, Luther took four hymns he had written and four from his friend Paul Speratus to make what was called Acht-lie-der-buch, or in english the “Eight Songs Book”. It was nothing crazy to produce a hymnal, but Luther and the reformation as a whole changed the way the church engaged with music forever.

Luther wanted songs to be written with simple words, words that everyone would know, not just the highly educated. And he wanted the music to be familiar, something people might already know. So he often borrowed popular folk tunes of the day and set lyrics to them that people would understand, making it easy to sing along with.

This was revolutionary, because at the time the catholic mass was done entirely in Latin, most church goers didn’t know the music, and therefore no one but the priests sang in worship. Luther’s approach to music changed all of that. He wanted everyone to sing since that’s how people would not only understand the gospel message, but because the music was catchy and familiar, the good news of Jesus Christ would always be on one’s lips, praising God morning, noon, and night.

He wrote on multiple occasions that next to the Word of God itself, music is the greatest treasure in this world. When done right, it helps one’s heart, quiets and cheers the soul because it teaches the gospel and praises God.

That’s why Luther loved music. You see Luther suffered from terrible anxiety throughout much of his life. In his early years of being a monk, he would fall into these dark episodes of despair. He felt like God didn’t love him, like God couldn’t love him. He wasn’t good enough, he didn’t keep all the commandments like he should, and didn’t do all the things the Bible says Christians should do. He writes about this feeling in one of those hymns from that first hymn book 500 years ago, saying “life had become a living hell, so firmly sin possessed me. My own good works availed me naught, no merit they attaining; my will against God's judgment fought, no hope for me remaining.”

My guess is at one time or another, or maybe even right now, you’ve felt hopeless because you aren’t good enough: not smart enough, not fit enough, not successful enough in the eyes of the world, and certainly not good enough in the eyes of God.

You try so hard to get it right, to pray more, get less angry, be more generous, or even care about all the suffering in this world. And you may for a time, but you can never quite rid yourself of whatever it is that makes you feel like God could not and should not love you.

But then Luther read again what we heard this morning from Romans 3: “No one is justified by what they do. We are justified, we are made right with God only by God’s grace as a gift, through the work of Jesus Christ”.

Later in that same hymn, Luther shares this good news from Jesus’ perspective, “Your ransom, I myself will be; for you I strive and wrestle. For I am yours, your friend divine, and evermore you shall be mine.”

In other words, Luther remembered that it’s not what he says or does or how much money he pays the church or how many prayers he lifts up, none of that takes away his sin or puts him in the right relationship with God.

Only Jesus does that by his work on the cross, taking our sin in exchange for his grace. Only a God who loves me more than I can fathom would do such a thing. And that's something worth singing about. Now there are plenty of songs that proclaim that truth, from ancient hymns to albums on that top 500 list. Yet, recently I heard or more like we heard a new song that shares the heart of the gospel, +Mark and I, I mean.

In August, we went to an Avett Brothers concert together at Gainbridge Fieldhouse. A few weeks before the show, I reached out to a stranger selling her tickets on Facebook only to then check the family calendar and realize we were booked. On the day of the concert, the woman reached back out and said I could have the tickets, no cost, completely free. We canceled our plans, but couldn’t find a sitter so short notice, so Katelyn graciously agreed to stay behind with Clive if I could get someone to go. And I know of no one who likes concerts more than Pastor Mark Havel.

So we went and about halfway through, Scott and Seth, took the stage with nothing but an acoustic guitar and their voices. And they sang a new song. Each verse juxtaposes the many ways we go through life, whether we speak up or are silent, if we are willing or we are done. If we’re courageous or cowards. All the verses go through a series of these conditions, but each one ends with proclaiming the truth “we are loved”.

And the chorus goes, “Every stitch and seam, every wish and dream, even in tragedy, there lies divinity. Even as hope seems lost, it may be found again. I have felt alone, but I have never been.” Their voices filled the fieldhouse and in that moment, I believed them. It was as if they were telling me again for the first time, the heart of the gospel, that no matter what you do in this life, it does not earn you grace. You are loved, and nothing in this life can take that away from you.

As the song came to a close, I turned to Mark and said “don’t even think about it, I'm using that in a sermon first!”

On this reformation Sunday, I invite you to sing, not just today but everyday. To lift your voice, your instrument, and praise God through the gift of music. Find a song, whether it’s 500 years old or brand new, whether it’s on the top 500 albums or not, find a song that proclaims the truth of the gospel, that no matter what, we are loved.

And then sing that song every day over and over again, thanking God for the gift of grace and music. Amen.