(For our annual pet blessing service, we worshiped outside on the labyrinth this Sunday, so there’s no audio of the sermon, but you can read it below.)

Luke 9:57-62

As they were going along the road, someone said to Jesus, “I will follow you wherever you go.” And Jesus said to him, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” To another he said, “Follow me.” But he said, “Lord, first, let me go and bury my father.” But Jesus said to him, “Let the dead bury their own dead; but as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.” Another said to him, “I will follow you, Lord; but let me first say farewell to those at my home.” Jesus said to him, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”

I picked this Gospel for today, because it’s just one of the many times Jesus uses animals as examples in his ministry of teaching. There’s a lot of talk about fish, of course, and sheep. We just heard one of those parables a couple weeks ago. He talks once about not worrying so much, because if God so cares for the birds of the air, as God does, we can rest assured God will also care and provide for God’s people. Another time, he compares himself to a mother hen who would gather her brood of chicks under her wings for protection. He even talks about dogs once – and learns a new thing because of it – when he tries to shame a Canaanite woman who comes to him looking for help.

All of this to say, there is so much for us to learn about and to learn from the creatures of the world around us – and from all of those who have joined us today. And in the spirit of keeping it short and sweet, for the sake of the beasts who have joined us, I thought I would channel Indiana’s own David Letterman – who loved his stupid pet tricks, remember – and simply share the top ten reasons why this annual service and the blessing of pets is one of my favorite things we do around here:

#10: I’ve always marveled at how happy we are to introduce our pets to our people on days like today. I love seeing the pride people have in the animals with whom they share their homes and their lives. I think we learn a lot about someone based on that sort of thing and I hope we consider bringing our human friends to worship every once in awhile and introducing them to what we’re up to around here, with the same kind of joy and enthusiasm.

#9: This way of doing worship is messy and loud and awkward and amazing. And I think it’s closer to they way our worship should be all of the time. Not so predictable. Not so practiced and well-rehearsed. Not so void of surprises. This day reminds me that we should all be as patient and good-humored and gracious about screams and outbursts and messes and mayhem every Sunday morning – with anyone and everyone who shows up for worship – as we are patient and good-humored and gracious today.

#8: (Speaking of messy, loud and awkward…) There is always some weeping and gnashing of teeth. These barking, biting, screeching and scrambling beasts we bring together year after year, all remind me of the differences that make up the people of God, out there in the world and right here at Cross of Grace, too. We come together as Partners in Mission in spite of and because of the various ways we experience the world around us. We don’t always agree about everything – and may disagree in some big ways about a lot of it – but we gather here, all of us, under the banner of and grateful for, God’s amazing grace and abundant love.

#7: It’s never all or only about us. Our pets have a tremendous capacity to remind us about our call to service. To be needed by a dog or a cat or a horse or a hamster is a reminder that we have resources worth sharing – for the sake of our neighbor and our nation and our world, just the same. (So, the next time you find yourself picking up dog poop on a walk through the neighborhood or cleaning out the litter box, give thanks for your call to service – that you’re called to it for the sake of your pet, and we’re all called to it for the sake of God’s people in this world, just the same.)

#6: These pets humble us in a holy way. I love to see teachers who successfully command respect in the classroom full of students, wrestle with a rescue dog. I love to see coaches and choir directors who lead a team or direct a choir of other people’s children be disobeyed and dragged around by a dog of their own. I love to watch a scientist or a boss or a well-respected professional of any kind – use pet-names and baby talk with their animals on Sunday morning. And, it’s instructive for a pastor of people to get slobbered on and hissed at by their pets, at least once a year. All of it reminds me that each of us is the same kind of broken and sinful and small and powerless in the grand scheme of things, where God is concerned. A little humility goes a long way.

#5: Creation Care is a Calling from God. Our animals – and the creatures and creation that surround us on a day like today – are clear reminders of the conscientious care we’re meant to extend to the world with which we’ve been gifted. We’re so broken and tempted and swallowed up by the political forces of this day and age, that we’ve been tricked into thinking that care of creation is a partisan, political issue, which it is not and never should be. It is a calling and command on our lives that’s as old as Genesis for the children of God.

#4: These animals are a picture of discipleship and faithful living. All the leashes and carriers and cages we’ve used to bring our pets to worship… All of the rules and commands we use to keep them in line and safe… are reminders of the value of those things for all of us, too; that rules and commands and obedience to God – our master – are given with love, for the sake of our blessing and benefit. Commands to follow faithfully, to give generously, to worship, learn and serve, are good for us – they keep us in line, they keep us safe, they please our Master, and they bless us as much as they bless the world when we get it right.

#3: The ones who get it, want more of it. I love the dogs who seem to understand that there’s something worth receiving up here, when they approach the altar. Of course, many of them are glad to receive whatever treat we feed them as they receive their blessing – and they come up with such curiosity, enthusiasm and joy. And I love the ones who want more of it. And expect it again when it’s time for communion. We should all be so curious and hopeful and filled with joy to receive what comes to us in Holy Communion.

#2: These animals – especially the dogs, as far as I can tell – are the grace of God incarnate, in the flesh, in a way that hasn’t happened since Jesus walked the earth. They never run out of forgiveness for us. They never run out of joy to be in our presence. They are ever-glad to welcome us home. For these things they are a picture of God among us.

#1: I’m convinced all of this is a picture of what we mean when we say and pray and hope: “on earth as it is in heaven.” I’m under the impression that all of this is a foretaste of the feast to come. I’m convinced that all dogs go to heaven – and cats and crawdads and chickens and chimpanzees, too. I believe that what we do in worship, whether we’re in the sanctuary or on the labyrinth… what we do in our lives together as believers… is to look for and to celebrate and to bring the kingdom of God’s grace and mercy and joy and justice to earth, among us, for the sake of the world.

Amen

Luke 15:1-10

Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.” So he told them this parable:

“Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it? When he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders and rejoices. And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, saying to them, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.’ Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance.

“Or what woman having ten silver coins, if she loses one of them, does not light a lamp, sweep the house, and search carefully until she finds it? When she has found it, she calls together her friends and neighbors, saying, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost.’ Just so, I tell you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.”

Growing up, I had a dog – a mutt – named Princess, who liked to run away. (pic) My family got Princess from our neighbors when their mutt of dog accidentally had a litter of puppies. My brother and I convinced my parents to let us keep one of those puppies, we named her Princess, and she spent the first few years of her life chained to a dog house, out by the detached garage at the church parsonage. Winter, spring, summer and fall, she lived chained to the dog house my grandfather built just for her.

My brother and I were too young to be good parents. My dad might say he was “old-school” when it came to dogs, not believing they belonged in the house. We thought he was just mean. (I actually think it had something to do with the fact that we lived in the church parsonage.)

Anyway, when we moved from Ohio to Michigan and bought our own house, Princess all of a sudden became an “inside dog.” I think this was partly meant to be a consolation prize for moving us, in the first place, and partly because we moved from a house in the country to a subdivision in the suburbs where her constant barking would not be tolerated by the neighbors who were all of a sudden so nearby.

Still, Princess spent a lot of time in this suburban backyard, not chained to that dog house anymore, but confined to a postage stamp-sized lot by a pretty wimpy privacy fence. It didn’t take her long to learn she could dig her way underneath the fence, behind the bush in the far corner of our yard. And when we filled her favorite digging holes with bricks and rocks, it didn’t take her long to learn she could just rip the boards off of the privacy fence and make her escape. It happened so often, we kept a regular supply of replacement boards on-hand so we could repair it every time Princess got the urge to run.

Eventually, we bought a staple gun and rolls of chicken wire which we attached to the inside of the fence to keep Princess where she belonged. (We were the classy neighbors on Park Ridge Road.) The chicken wire finally worked, for the most part, but Princess was still, always looking to run. If the back gate didn’t get latched, she would notice and hit the road. If we had company over – and they weren’t fast enough – Princess would dart out the front door before they could close it. I think she even learned how to open that front screen door with her nose, if we didn’t remember to lock it. “Princess,” it turns out, wasn’t so aptly named.

And every time she escaped, it would send my brother and me into a panic. We would roam and race around the streets chasing after her: bribing her with treats, luring her into back yards where we could trap her, trying to beat her in a foot-race, frankly, and tackle her, if nothing else. I’m sure it was a spectacle to behold. (Did I mention we were the classy neighbors on Park Ridge Road?)

Well, I thought about Princess when I read, again, about the lost sheep and the lost coin – and about the parable of the prodigal son, which follows these two parables, in Luke’s Gospel, actually.

Because Jesus tells these parables about lost things – lost sheep, lost coins and lost children – in response to the self-righteous grumbling of the scribes and the Pharisees, who notice that Jesus welcomes and eats with sinners. In other words, they were surprised – if not downright disgusted – that Jesus would bother with the losers; that he would break bread with the broken; that he would slum it with the sinners. In other words, why chase after that stupid dog who doesn’t want to follow the rules, or obey your ways, or be with you in the first place?

Of course, I didn’t know when I was a kid – and it certainly wasn’t my motivation at the time – but chasing Princess around the neighborhood is likely the only time in my entire life that I might have been more like Jesus than my father. (I found out, after preaching this sermon at our first service, with my dad in the room, that he remembers this all very differently!)

See, my dad never joined us in these chases, probably because I’m not sure he cared if that dog ever made her way home again, for all the reasons you’ve already heard. And he didn’t chase after Princess because she knew that about him, so he was probably the last person she would come to anyway. But mostly, my dad didn’t chase after our renegade dog because he was always just convinced that Princess would come home when she was good and ready; when she was tired of running; when she was hungry enough; or tired enough; or lonely enough, or whatever. And, to be fair, maybe the story of the Prodigal Son bears that out.

But this morning is about lost sheep and lost coins and my brother and I were never so sure. We had lost another dog once when she got hit by a car on those country roads, back in Ohio. So we chased after Princess like her life was at stake. We searched for her. We called after her. We cried for her and worried about her and prayed for her to come to her senses. And time after time after time we brought that stubborn, stupid, sneaky, sinful dog back home – against her will – but home… and safe… where she belonged.

And that is the hope and encouragement and Good News in Jesus’ parables this morning. Coins and sheep and stubborn dogs don’t always know they are lost – or loved – or worthy. Coins and sheep and stubborn dogs don’t always make choices from a place of wisdom and understanding. Sometimes, coins and sheep and stubborn dogs need to be sought after, searched for, saved by a love that’s greater than anything some might say they deserve.

And the same is true for you and me and for the rest God’s children, too, from time to time. We don’t always make choices from a place of wisdom and understanding and deep faith. We don’t always know we’re lost, or loved, in need or worthy of rescue. So we need to be pursued… sought after… and saved by the love of God, in Jesus Christ, which is greater than anything we deserve.

And I hope – because I believe it’s God’s hope – that once we know the truth of that; once we learn about how mightily God has pursued us in Jesus Christ, that we will find ways to go after the lost and the broken, to seek out the hurting and the hopeless with the love of God, like their lives depend on it. The lives of some, may indeed, depend on it, after all – those lost to addiction or homelessness or poverty or injustice. But this is worthwhile, faithful, life-giving work, in any case, because the lives of all people – sinners, every one of us – will be blessed and better when we make way and make room for all people at the table of God’s grace.

Amen

Top Ten Not-So-Stupid Pet Tricks

Lost Sheep, Lost Coins, Lost Dogs