sermons — Page 12 — Andy James

After the Party

April 12, 2015 By Andy James

a sermon on John 20:19-31
preached on April 12, 2015, at the First Presbyterian Church of Whitestone

What do you do after a big party? Hosting a big party is always a bit of a chore to begin with—the host always ends up doing the dishes, cleaning up the random messes, and getting the house back in some sense of order—but whether you’re hosting or attending a big celebration, there’s the way everything seems to go downhill a bit when it is over, how the exhilaration of expectation and festivity shift back into the routine of the everyday, how the excitement of the party eases down into something much more normal. Even when there is a general sense of relief that the celebration is over, I for one am a little sad, too, and end up counting the days until the next time something like that will happen—even though I know that the strange blend of busyness and exhaustion and exhilaration and relief will only leave me feeling like something is missing yet again after the next party, too.

As much as I feel this way in my own life and in the life of the church after a celebration such as we shared last Sunday for Easter, I can only imagine how much more strongly the disciples felt this in their own lives after their first encounter with the resurrected Jesus. The gospel according to John gives us a little sense of this, showing us an exhilarating first Easter day, when Mary and Peter both encounter the risen Jesus, and a slightly quieter first Easter evening, set in a locked room where the disciples had gathered to take in everything that they had experienced. The core group gathered there was two fewer than it had been before: Judas had killed himself due to his guilt over betraying Jesus, and Thomas wasn’t there with them for some unexplained reason.

It seems that they gathered amidst an overall air of confusion and uncertainty. Only a few of their number had encountered Jesus in person, and so the tales of resurrection were not yet backed up by personal encounters quite yet for most of them. And fear was still very much in their minds, not just fear of the kind of radical change that naturally comes when the certainties of death are broken, even by someone you like, but also fear of the authorities who had arrested and executed Jesus and who most certainly would not be excited to hear that his body was missing, let alone had been resurrected.

So amidst all their fears and uncertainties, inside locked doors, alongside their varied experiences of the risen Jesus, the disciples gathered, not quite knowing what to expect after the party—and then Jesus showed up. Somehow he made it through those tightly-locked doors and even-more-tightly-closed hearts and appeared in their midst. He offered them a word of peace and showed them his hands and his side, and then they rejoiced. He concluded his visit with them on that first Easter evening by breathing the Holy Spirit on them and sending them out to continue his work and ministry.

After that first party, the disciples kept up their gatherings. As they got ready for another Sunday evening meeting, they told the absent Thomas what they had experienced on that Easter evening, and like them he said that he would not—maybe even could not—believe it until he experienced it for himself. So when they gathered again the next Sunday, when Thomas was with the disciples in that locked room, Jesus again appeared among them. Thomas’ uncertainties were resolved when Jesus not only appeared there but offered up his wounds for Thomas to touch, and they again found that the experience they shared together made the resurrection all the more real for them along the way as they moved on from that initial moment back into the everyday.

As we too recover from the celebration of Easter and move back into the everyday, I think we can learn a few things from the disciples as we figure out what comes next after the party. First of all, the disciples remind us how important it is to keep getting together. In those first days of the resurrection, when they were uncertain or unsure what was going on, they kept gathering with one another, trusting that something special would happen in that time. In the same way, we find greater strength for our walks of faith when we walk together. When we gather with others to practice our faith, we are reminded that we are not alone in this journey. When we come together with fellow Christians for worship, prayer, study, and conversation, we are strengthened for those moments when we are unsure or uncertain, for the faith of others can help fill in the gaps that seem so easy to leave wide open. And when we share this pathway with others, we can open our eyes more clearly to the risen Jesus, for he always appeared to the risen disciples after that first morning not one by one but when they gathered together.

Beyond this, John’s story of these resurrection encounters reminds us of the importance of sticking with those who might want to ask some questions along the way. We don’t know why Thomas wasn’t there on that first Easter evening when Jesus appeared to the disciples, and we don’t know why he demanded to see the risen Jesus with his own eyes as he did, but we do know that they encouraged him and welcomed him back into their midst the next week, where his doubts were resolved by an incredible experience of his risen Lord.

In the same way, we are called to exercise a similar measure of generosity and grace with our sisters and brothers in the faith who have questions and express their doubts along the way. It is far too easy to become the kind of Christian community focused on determining who is in or who is out based on beliefs and systems and structures and visible practices, but when we do, we miss the deep reality that all this comes to us as God’s gift, with grace, mercy, and peace beyond all human measure, that we are given only to share with everyone, not to take away from anyone. Just as the disciples welcomed Thomas into their midst when he was uncertain, we too are called to offer a place of welcome to those who are looking to encounter God in the world, trusting that those who may not understand things so perfectly now will grow in faith, hope, and love through God’s own provision and in God’s own time, for they too will one day encounter the resurrected Jesus and join Thomas and so many others in proclaiming, “My Lord and my God!”

Finally, John’s story of the resurrection encounters remind us of one last thing to do after the party: keep singing. Whenever the disciples encountered the resurrected Jesus, they rejoiced and shared their rejoicing along the way. In the same way, we too are called to keep up our praise for what we have encountered along the way, and I know no better way to do that than to sing. Now some of you will likely quietly object to this, thinking that your singing voice isn’t good enough or finding some other reason for why you should be excused from singing praise for the wonder of the resurrection. However, I won’t accept that excuse, and I don’t think Jesus would, either. The beauty of your voice—or lack thereof—is no good reason not to use it!

When it comes to giving praise to God for the resurrection, we are called to raise our voices loud and clear, to set aside our doubts and uncertainties that our voices are good enough, to stop worrying whether or not we can carry a tune in a bucket, for God’s power revealed in the resurrection is so wondrous and surprising and transformative that it can change our mourning into dancing, our cries of lament into songs of joyous praise, and even our most out-of-tune singing into beautiful melodies that lift up the wonder of God’s love.

So as we journey into these weeks after the party, may we join the disciples in their Easter joy, continuing to come together to experience the presence of the resurrected Jesus, making space for those who are still looking for him to appear in our midst, and singing joyous songs of praise to our risen Lord until he comes again in glory to make all things new.

Alleluia! Christ is risen. He is risen indeed! Alleluia! Amen.

The End of the Beginning

April 5, 2015 By Andy James

a sermon on Mark 16:1-8
preached on Easter Sunday, April 5, 2015, at the First Presbyterian Church of Whitestone

All too often, when I look around our world, all I hear about is death. Whether I turn on the TV or radio to hear the latest news, look up the latest news online, or check in with family or friends, there is some note about someone who has died. Our human stories, it seems, are very much set in stone: we are born, we live for a while and do a few things, and then we die. Life has a clear beginning, middle, and ending.

The story of Jesus ought to be the same, right? The gospel of Mark certainly starts out that way as he tells us that it is “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the son of God.” And everyone around Jesus certainly thought that his story was just like all our other human stories, with a clear beginning, middle, and ending.

On Friday when he was executed, it seems like his disciples, the women who supported and cared for him, and everyone at the crucifixion thought that it was the end of everything—the end of Jesus’ life, the end of their time together, the end of the story that he had begun by preaching and teaching and healing in Galilee and beyond. When we hear the story of Jesus, it can seem like all we need to remember from it ends on Friday, with Jesus dead after his execution on the cross by the authorities of the day, safely sealed away in the tomb, never to be heard from again.

When the women set out on that Sunday morning to go to the tomb, reality had firmly set in: Jesus was dead, and it was the end of his story. Little did they know, though, that it was really only the end of the beginning. As they carried their spices for anointing the body to the tomb, they were prepared to mark this end, to give Jesus the proper burial that he deserved rather than just the hurried dumping of his body in a friend’s tomb as the sun set to begin the Sabbath. Of course, they weren’t totally prepared—it was only on their way to the tomb that they realized that they might need some help rolling the stone away from the entrance—but they were most definitely not ready for what they encountered when they arrived there.

Their fears of not being able to get in the tomb were quickly replaced by a deeper uncertainty and greater alarm when they discovered that the large stone had already been rolled away—and that someone else had gone inside first! When they went in, rather than being met with a smelly, decaying body, a young man in a white robe was waiting for them. His words shocked them all the more:

Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.

As they left the tomb, the women found it difficult to understand all that was swirling around them. They were alarmed and afraid and terrified and amazed. Not only was the grave empty, but all their assumptions about beginnings and endings and everything that comes in between were turned upside down. While they knew that there was something special about their friend and teacher Jesus, it never sank in that the end of his story might not be the end—that it might be only the end of the beginning. They had never put all the pieces together, never fully listened to him and trusted his words, never sorted out that he might actually die, let alone be raised to new life. So they went away from the tomb, fearful and amazed and terrified at what they had seen and heard.

By all the most reliable accounts, in all the oldest manuscripts that we have, Mark’s story of the resurrection ends right there:

So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.

There were no encounters with Jesus in the garden, no breakfast fish fries on the beach, no walks to Emmaus where Jesus suddenly gets recognized, not even an encounter with doubting Thomas in an upstairs room. Over the centuries, a lot of people didn’t like that ending, so much so that they wrote two other endings that got attached to some of the manuscripts that have come down to us over the centuries, but I think this is a wonderful place for the beginning of the good news to come to an end.

Even though we never actually see Jesus alive again, Mark makes it clear that the empty tomb is only the beginning, that this story does not end with Jesus’ death on a Friday, his resurrection on a Sunday, or even his ascension some forty days later, because the risen Jesus is on the loose in the world even now, and we too will encounter him along the way.

The things ahead for us and our world now that Jesus is risen will not be like the things that have come before—he is not resuscitated back into the life that he had but is risen into a new life for the future. The resurrection marks the end of the beginning of this good news—because the rest of the story belongs to the women, the disciples, and all of us who would dare to follow him. We are called to go forth with them, into the Galilees of our world, looking, watching, waiting for Jesus, confident that our redeemer lives and has overcome the powers of death, and encountering him wherever stones are rolled away, the power of death is overcome with new life, and the domination of a few is replaced with a future for all. We are called to meet Jesus on his own terms, not as a dead body hanging on a cross or decaying in a tomb, not trying to make his story look and sound like our own. We are called to meet Jesus as a living reality, uncontainable and unforgettable, who goes ahead of us so that we might encounter him again and again in the days to come.

And then we are called to bear the resurrection into the world, to be on the lookout for this Jesus who is on the loose, to live in ways that point to the kind of new life that comes when death does not have the final word, when our world is restructured to make mercy and peace the pattern for our days, when even the most broken things can be made whole again, when love triumphs over hate and life triumphs over death.

So may this Easter be the end of the beginning for us, the end of an old way of looking at things where death has the final word as we begin to proclaim and live the good news of the resurrection each and every day as all things are made new by the power of God who brings us from death to new life in Jesus Christ our risen Lord.

Alleluia! Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed! Alleluia! Amen.

A King for the Ages

March 29, 2015 By Andy James

a sermon on Mark 15:1-39 for Palm & Passion Sunday
preached on March 29, 2015, at the First Presbyterian Church of Whitestone

As they shouted their “Hosannas,” the people were clearly ready for a king for the ages, for someone to come and make everything different. They wanted someone to cast off the chains of oppressive Roman rule, to cut off the aggressive and corrupt tax system, to free them to make their own decisions about life in their beloved holy city. They sought a king to stand in the line of their beloved ancestor David, to have the good of the people in mind at every turn, to bring the temple and the city out of the shadows of the empire and back to its former glory. They longed for someone to bring them together again, to set up a new and glorious age of home rule, to make a way for the scattered people of Israel to be one once more.

The crowds gathered expecting a king for the ages, but the echoes of their “Hosannas” had barely died down before Jesus began to shatter their expectations. He overturned tables in the temple and drove out those who were selling things there. He repeatedly questioned the authority of the religious leaders who focused on the letter of the law while missing its spirit. He taught that love of God and love of neighbor stand far above duty to any earthly kingdom. And when he was confronted by the authorities of the day and charged with upsetting the order of things, he shattered their expectations completely by going to his death when he could have denied it and saved his own life.

With each passing day, Jesus turned their expectations of a king for the ages upside down again and again. By time Friday rolled around, with their expectations of a king for the ages completely shattered, the crowd’s exaltation of this one coming to save turned to new shouts of “Crucify him!” And by the end of that gruesome day, this king for the ages lay dead, convicted on trumped-up charges, sent to his death on the shouts of a blood-hungry crowd, executed by the most cruel means imaginable, all expectations of a king for the ages abandoned forever on that forlorn hill.

Our expectations of Jesus are just as easily shattered. We look to him to give us easy answers that require little further consideration—and instead receive hard truths that leave us pondering how to respond. We turn to him expecting a magic solution to our problems—only to find that the fixes we expected were not what he intends. We think of Jesus as “ours,” as one who belongs to us and so fits in a little box of our own design and construction—while missing the point that we cannot define him at all, let alone try to limit who he is or how he works in our world. And we figure that more careful adherence to his standards will set our world on a better course—while missing the core understandings of justice, peace, and transformation that stand at the center of his words and actions.

The events of this Holy Week remind us that our expectations of Jesus do not define him as king for the ages—instead, he shows us a new and different way of living in the world as he redefines what it means to be king altogether. In Mark’s telling of this story, we hear Jesus repeatedly named as “King of the Jews” or “Messiah”—even though we know that that he will never be the kind of king recognized by his royal robes or bejeweled scepter. This king casts off the chains of Roman oppression not by overturning the government of the day that promised the “peace of Rome” through military power but by instituting a kingdom of peace through submission to the powers of the world that mock his kingdom altogether. This king suffers violence beyond imagination without ever succumbing to it, opening a way beyond domination and bloodshed that still guides us today. And this king brings us hope for something more, for just when we think that all is lost in his death, we learn that God has more in store for him and for us.

Jesus is king for the ages not because the crowds shout “Hosanna” upon his arrival or because they see one who will overturn the political and religious rulers of the day. Instead, he is king for the ages because he shatters every human expectation for a king and gives us a new pattern for life in our world that begins when he sets aside all our fear of death and its minions by opening the way to new life.

So as we journey through this Holy Week, as the echoes of our “Hosannas” quickly fade, as Jesus’ path of self-giving service and love opens before us, as we remember the last meal he shared with his disciples, as we retrace his footsteps through trial, execution, and death, may we set aside our expectations of glory and proclaim this king for the ages in all our living so that we can experience all the more the gift of this week and share it with joy and hope as the pathway through death to resurrection is opened for all. Thanks be to God! Amen.

We Want to See Jesus

March 22, 2015 By Andy James

a sermon on John 12:20-33
preached on March 22, 2015, at the First Presbyterian Church of Whitestone

“We want to see Jesus.”

These pilgrims had come a long way to celebrate the Passover in Jerusalem, traveling from their homes in an entirely different part of the empire to join thousands of other faithful Jews in remembering the main event of liberation that shaped their religious identity and practice. Yet somewhere along this long journey these pilgrims had heard about Jesus, and they started seeking him out. I suspect they started asking around town for him, checking in with anyone they suspected might know this Galilean prophet and teacher in hopes of encountering him for themselves.

Who knows how long it took them to find Philip, one of Jesus’ disciples, who finally could make the connection to Jesus for them, but when they found him, I can only imagine their excitement. They were finally in the same town with the teacher that they had sought, and they could finally learn directly from him. They might finally meet this prophet who had an incredible reputation for his signs of power and healing. And they could finally encounter the one who some had begun to wonder might be the Messiah.

“Sir, we wish to see Jesus,” they told the disciple Philip. But Philip clearly wasn’t quite sure what to do. Jesus was quite well known around Palestine, but I suspect he and his disciples were a bit surprised that these people from a little further afield were looking for him. Now I imagine that by this point, after three years of his ministry, the disciples had a bit of a protocol when it came to people who wanted to meet Jesus, trying to manage the crowds a bit, give Jesus some time away for spiritual reflection that he so often needed and wanted, and just generally keep the whole thing from getting out of hand. So rather than taking these Greeks to meet Jesus right away, Philip went and told Andrew, and then after their consultation they went and told Jesus.

Somewhat surprisingly, though, when Jesus heard that these pilgrims wanted to see him, he wasn’t at all interested in actually meeting them. Rather than going out to meet these pilgrims, he turned to his disciples and began teaching them again, now explaining to them why it was so important that these Greeks had come looking for him—even though it seems that their interest wasn’t important or interesting enough to him for John to record any actual meeting with them.

“We want to see Jesus.”

Like most people, when I turn to the gospels, that’s my feeling—I want to see Jesus. I want to get a better picture of this man who launched an incredible movement that against all odds has so deeply shaped western civilization for the last two thousand years. I want to learn about Jesus through the stories of those who were far closer to him and passed down their encounters with him through the generations. And I want to see the Jesus who took the difficult path when he could have just taken the easy road. I want to see the Jesus who set aside his honor and glory to open the pathway for God’s honor and glory to spread wider and further throughout creation. I want to see the Jesus who journeyed to his death to show us how to live.

But John doesn’t seem to be particularly concerned about seeing Jesus in the end. He doesn’t tell us if those Greeks who came looking for Jesus ever actually saw him. Instead, John shifts gears entirely, using these searching Greeks to get Jesus to start talking about the things that are ahead for him and the ways in which he is fulfilling the mission set for the Messiah long before this encounter at the beginning of Jesus’ third Passover in Jerusalem.

I suspect that John’s focus on this more theological understanding of Jesus is one of the reasons I am so often frustrated when I read John’s gospel. But today’s reading leaves me especially frustrated. The Jesus I know and have seen in the other stories of the gospels wouldn’t have completely ignored these pilgrims’ request to meet with him. The Jesus I believe cared enough to step up and die for the sins of the world also cared enough to get to know the people around him and engage with the crowds who were beginning to see a new vision of God in and through him, not just a small, select circle of disciples. And the Jesus I follow would have stepped away from his theological lectures and concerns long enough to meet those Greeks who were the sign of the beginning of a new thing for him as he approached such an important moment in his life.

“We want to see Jesus.”

Those Greeks in Jerusalem during the festival were surely only some of the first to offer this inquiry, and even our last hymn picked up on this request to offer it as a prayer for our own time and place. Nowadays, I get the sense that people are asking that question again of us, and far too often we too leave them wanting a glimpse of Jesus when we too talk about other things instead. In a world where death and destruction lurk around nearly every corner, where news reports focus primarily if not exclusively on the bad things that are happening around us, where peace seems far off on our best days and a total pipe dream on our worst, people want to see Jesus bringing us hope amidst all this despair. In a world where expectations of family stand strong yet people still so often feel so very alone, where love is either defined so broadly that it loses its meaning or so narrowly that it isn’t open to everyone, where relationships are so difficult to build and so easy to destroy, people want to see Jesus connecting us to one another as sisters and brothers in the family of God. And in a world where we can listen to so-called authorities on one subject or another drone on for hours and hours without really saying anything new, where we so often assume that the problems of our world can be fixed most easily by greater personal freedom, where justice for all takes a back seat to personal fulfillment, people want to see Jesus working to bring real change for all to our broken and fearful world.

“We want to see Jesus.”

So what would they see if those Greeks, those seekers of our own time, or even the disciples came here to see him? Would they see a dying institution gasping in its final breaths, or would they see a vibrant and hopeful group of people who are trying to show Jesus to the world beginning on one little corner of 149th Street and 15th Drive? Would they see a small congregation longing and begging for more people to do work, or would they see a community of people who themselves are longing to see Jesus and looking for ways to show his presence to others? Would they see a few dozen “frozen chosen” dead-set on their own path, or would they see a faithful group who are joining Jesus on his journey to the cross?

“We want to see Jesus.”

Ultimately, as much as we know that others are asking this question, we too are seeking him out in our own lives. Last month, as part of our youth gathering, we each decorated a cutout figure of Jesus like this one to carry with us into the world. We’ve spent the last month looking for Jesus in the strange and wonderful and challenging and even dark moments of our lives, and I for one am looking forward to the pictures of all the places that we’ve seen Jesus in our lives over the last month that we will share later today. It has been an incredible exercise for me at least to encounter Jesus in the everyday when I have least expected it, maybe in the surprise call from an old friend, in the unusual beauty of one last winter morning even amidst the first full day of spring yesterday, or even in the simple space of a deep breath amidst a difficult moment of life.

“We want to see Jesus.”

May we go into these final Lenten days with that request on our lips and our hearts, offering an encounter with Jesus to all those who come our way as we too carry this deep and beautiful desire to see Jesus with us until we see him face to face as all things are made new. Lord, come quickly! Amen.

Returning to Grace

March 15, 2015 By Andy James

a sermon on Ephesians 2:1-10
preached on March 15, 2015, at the First Presbyterian Church of Whitestone

On Ash Wednesday, the calls come loud and clear: “Return to the Lord your God.” Find your center again. “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” Do not forget who you are. “Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and sustain in me a willing spirit.” God brings you back to where you have been and makes a new way. This season of Lent is an important time for this kind of restoration of what we have known, for remembering who and whose we are, for returning to our roots in God’s grace.

And there are few texts that get us closer to our roots of grace than this morning’s readings from John and Ephesians. The familiar words of John 3:16 are so well known that they can be recited by people who have no church or faith background at all. And the perhaps less familiar but equally insightful words from our reading in Ephesians approach our roots in a slightly different way while keeping the focus on the depth and breadth of God’s love and grace as revealed in Jesus Christ.

As I’ve considered this return to grace over the past week, our text from Ephesians really stands out. In these ten verses, we hear wonderful reminders of so much that is fit for this Lenten season: the depth of our sinfulness, the reality of evil and the powers of disobedience that keep us mired in the ways of this world, the mercy of God that steps into the messiness of our lives and our world to bring us transformation, the grace of God in Jesus Christ that saves us, and the challenge of this gift to be more and more like the beloved creations of God that we are.

Paul starts out here by declaring the state of things before God got involved. The life we thought we had was a false life—the things of this world that seemed to make us live actually were proof that we were dead. Even more than this, the world was and still is filled with powers and rulers and spirits that place their own existence and preservation above the well-being of all, and we once lived among them, following our own whims and desires and ignoring the intentions of God.

But this is not the end of the story. Paul quickly turns to connect our sinful condition to God’s action to change it. Even before we could do anything about all this, God got involved. Even before we knew the depths of our brokenness, God stepped in to raise us up. “Even when were dead through our trespasses,” God gave us new life in Christ.

This is a radical claim. God’s care for humankind is greater than our propensity to sin. God’s love for us comes before any action of our own. God’s mercy is from everlasting to everlasting, from the beginning of time until the end. God’s grace extends beyond our human attempts to place limits on it. In the end, our sin is not the story—God’s grace is.

If we were tempted to miss this point or if we got confused in any way, Paul will not let us forget this. Three times he makes it clear that God’s grace is at the center of our salvation. If we missed it the first time, he doesn’t want us to miss it the second or third! Our salvation, our understanding of God’s mercy, our new life in Christ—all this comes into being because of God’s grace. All this is summed up beautifully just one verse that ought to be as memorable as John 3:16:

For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God.

This stands at the center of everything for us as Christians. The life we share in Christ comes to us not through our own actions of good works, not through our historic relationships to one church or another, and not even through our own acceptance of this amazing gift. Instead, here Paul reminds us that grace comes first and last and everywhere in between in our lives of faith. God’s grace comes to us before we can even begin to know about it. God’s grace is present at every turn of our lives, and especially when we think we can do it all on our own. God’s grace accompanies us as we return to dust. And God’s grace extends through all time to bring us to new life in the age to come.

Even more than this, God’s grace makes us more alive that we could ever imagine. In it, we are raised up with Christ and seated with him in the heavenly places, gifted with “the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us.” As one commentator puts it, “Christ does more than bring us out of death to life; Christ makes us royalty.” (Jeff Paschal, “Homiletical Perspective on Ephesians 2:1-10,” Feasting on the Word Year B Volume 2, p. 113)

God’s grace is an incredible gift that helps us to see ourselves and others in new ways. We need not worry about what is in store for us—God has bigger plans for us than we could ever imagine. We need not worry if we have enough faith to be saved—God’s grace is enough for us all. We need not worry if we have accepted this in the right way at the right time—God’s love and power are not dependent upon our acceptance, permission, and support to be effective and real. And we need not worry if we have done enough to seal God’s grace in our lives—God has already done that in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

Freed from our worries and wonderings, we are freed to respond in joy and hope to this gracious and amazing gift. The very good works that we would think bring us salvation are not so much required of us as welcomed of us. Paul makes this abundantly clear:

For we are what he has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life.

The good works that emerge from us because of God’s grace are the reason why we are created, not the source of our salvation, and this allows us to live so much more freely, to deeply and truly embody God’s grace in our lives and our world, not because we have to but because we want to, not because we are forced to but because it is part of who we are.

If we truly welcome this amazing gift of grace into our midst, why would we live any other way? Grace inspires us to be the people God created us to be, to be beacons of light and hope in our broken and fearful world. Grace invites us to join in Christ’s ministry of love and justice to all, as it open our eyes to the poor, the friendless, the oppressed, the hurting, the outcast, and the hopeless, to bear this mercy and grace and love to them, too. And grace helps us to embody now the incredible, immeasurable gifts of God, the new reality for our world that all things will be transformed by God’s mercy and the amazing grace that stands at the center of everything.

So as we recenter our lives in the gift of God’s grace this Lent, may we know God’s amazing grace all the more, and may we be the people God is creating us to be, people made for good works of transformation and new life, in this world and the next, so that we might always keep returning to grace. Thanks be to God! Amen.