Covenant: Adoption

Covenant: Adoption
God Desires that We Have the Faith of a Son 

Jeremiah 31:31-34
Rev. Tim Callow
Preached Sun. March 21st, 2021 

In Luke Jesus tells us a parable that strikingly distinguishes the old covenant from the new, the mosaic from the messianic. The beginning of the Lord’s work, to its completion. A man had two sons, which is always a bad sign in scripture. The younger one asks his farmer for his share of the inheritance. Now this is a big thing to ask, because wealth in those days was not easily liquidated. The younger son isn’t asking for money, he’s asking for a portion of the land, a portion of his family’s livelihood. But the Father, out of love, grants him his share of the estate and the son very quickly sells it and runs off with the wealth. 

The youngest goes to a far away country where he squanders all that he has on sex, drugs, and rock and roll. After he spends everything he has a severe famine strikes the whole country and he falls into serious need. So he hires himself out to a gentile and works in a literal pig sty. He longs to eat the pods given to the pigs, but he wasn’t allowed to eat even that. Well, it doesn’t take long before he comes to his senses and figures that his father’s hired men are far more well fed. “I will set out and go back to my father,” he says, “And I will say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of our hired servants.” 

So he gets up and goes back to his father’s house. But while he was still a long way off his father catches sight of him, is filled with compassion, and runs to his son. A rather ridiculous image to imagine. I imagine a picture of Abraham, for some reason, with the long beard. He girds up his robe, exposes his chicken legs, and runs down the dusty driveway leading with his head like in some cartoon. He careens down the way and throws his arms around his son, kissing him. The son then says, “Father, I have singed against heaven and against you, I am no longer worthy to be called your son.” But before he can ask to be made one of the hired men, his Father cuts him off and commands his servants to get the best robe, to put ring on his finger and sandals on his feet, to slaughter the fattened calf and have a feast, for the son he lost has been found. 

But everyone isn’t at the celebration. The good son remains in the field and refuses to go in. When his father comes out and pleads with him to return the good son says, “Look! All these years I've been slaving for you and never disobeyed. Yet you never have me even the young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home you kill the fattened calf for him!” You can imagine the sorrow in the father’s eyes and voice when he replies, “My son, you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.” 

Both the prodigal son and the good son acted as if they were under the old covenant. They had the faith of a servant. In the case of the prodigal son he thinks his relationship with his father is a contractural one, tied to the land, that if broken cannot be restored. Once the land is split, and the property sold, he is no longer a member of the family. Having squandered his living in a gentile land and shaming his name he figures the best he can do is be his father’s servant. The good son too has the faith of a servant, he’s never realized his status as a son. He does not realize that all that his father has is his own, but thinks his relationship with his father is purely one of servitude and obedience. “I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders.” He whines. 

But the father in the story treats them both as they are. He receives the prodigal son into sonship so that he can have the faith of a son. And sadly tries to bring the good son from his servitude to recognizing he is a son. The former covenant made through Moses does bring freedom, but it also brings servitude. It brings freedom by showing us sin, it brings servitude by binding us to its commands. And as lovely as the Law may be, the Law also brings fear. Fear of punishment, fear of falling short of its strict commands. Further, the Law cannot make us righteous, it can only tell us what righteousness entails. A new covenant was still needed, one that could make us righteous. One that casts out fear with love. 

Jeremiah prophesies the coming of this new covenant. “But this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, says the LORD: I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people.” The New Covenant, the covenant made in Jesus’ blood, puts the law in our hearts. It is the covenant of inward renewal. It is the covenant of our adoption as children of God. “Because you are sons,” Paul tells us, “God sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, the Spirit who calls out, ‘Abba, Father.’ So you are no longer a slave, but a son; and since you are a son, God has made you also an heir.” Through this New Covenant we are made heirs of all that belongs to Christ. We are given every spiritual blessing, and we are transformed. Fear is cast aside because perfect love casts out fear. We no longer need to fear punishment for we know that we are dearly beloved children of God. And our hope in God carries us through all circumstances. 

As there are two covenants so there are two sorts of faith. Some have only the faith of a servant, to others is given the faith of a son. The faith of a servant is a servile faith that operates out of fear and relies on works. It is the faith that thinks if I follow the rules, if I become a good person, I will be saved. The faith of a son is a joyful faith and relies on God’s grace. All faith is God’s gift. Those who are given the faith of a servant can move onto the faith of a son, the fruit of the new covenant. 

God ultimately wants to make children out of us. God wants to adopt us, because God loves us, and we have strayed away for far too long. And this is how God wants to transform us. Not through external rules only, but through being made part of God’s household. Sharing his life. Of being transformed inwardly. By receiving his grace. It is to this end that Christ came into the world. It is to this end that Christ died, and was raised. God delivers us from death by making us his children by faith. 

Covenant: Snakes

Covenant: Snakes


God Brings Us Through the Wilderness

Numbers 21:4-9


Rev. Tim Callow


Preached Sun. March 14th, 2021

God brings the Israelites through the wilderness into the promised land because we all face the wilderness in our lives. The wilderness is a place of trial, it is a place of longing, it is a place of suffering, of hunger and of thirst. We face the wilderness when a loved one dies, and our world seems to collapse. We face the wilderness when we watch someone we love suffer, and perhaps we face the realization of how little there is we can do to help. We face the wilderness when we get sick, and the nagging illness doesn’t go away. We face the wilderness when there is trouble at work, or a disagreement in the family. So much of our life can be consumed by wilderness wandering. The Bible focuses so much on the wanderings of the Israelites because of the Bible’s relentless realism.

I had mentioned before that we can be really pessimistic today. Perhaps the reason so many people are pessimistic is because so many people expect to be happy. Now, don’t get me wrong. God wants us all to be happy. Holiness is happiness. But somehow along the way we got the wrong idea about happiness. We think happiness is chemicals in the brain, or a pleasant state of mind. When happiness has more to do with one’s whole life.

In his Histories Herodotus recounts the story of Solon and King Croesus. Solon was one of the Seven Sages of Greece, renown for giving Athens her laws and establishing her constitution. As Herodotus recounts the legend King Croesus had summoned Solon to his court and showed him all his great riches and asked Solon whether he was the happiest man in the world. Solon replied that there were three who were happier than Croesus, one because he died in battle and the two others because the goddess had granted them a happy death. The point being that happiness is not merely an emotional state, but characterizes one’s whole life, “don’t call anyone happy until they are dead” Solon advised. Croesus would later lose his son, his wife, his wealth, and his nation, and died bitter and sad.

King Croesus hubristically thought he was happy, when in reality his happiness was only fleeting. He did not have the true happiness that comes from living life well. So when Croesus met the wilderness of his life he was ill-prepared, and succumbed to the suffering. Too often that’s what people do. They meet the wilderness, and they succumb to their hunger and thirst. The Israelites do as much in our reading this morning. They are tired of their wanderings, tired of quail and manna and miraculous water. They are tired of battle. So they lash out at God. “Did you bring us out here to die?” they ask.

So God makes the snakes to come, and they bite the Israelites so that many of them died. They turn to God and ask for deliverance. God tells Moses to make a bronze serpent and lift it high, and all who look upon the serpent in the wilderness will live. Moses does make the serpent, the people do look upon the serpent, and their wounds are healed. The snakes disappear. In this moment, they are saved.

Jesus tells us this morning that the serpent signified himself. As the serpent was raised in the wilderness the Israelites wandered, so too he is raised in our own wilderness. And as the Israelites looked upon the snake and lived, if we believe in Jesus’ name we too will live. We too will be carried through the wilderness in our own lives. We too will find healing. And we may be made happy.

We will be made happy not because we will not have to enter the wilderness. God never covenants that we will not have to go through the wilderness. He dearly loved the Hebrews, but they too had to enter the wilderness. But we can be happy in a deeper sense. We can be happy in that we are given “the peace that surpasses all understanding” as Paul writes in Philippians. In that same letter Paul writes that he has learned the secret of being content in all circumstances. That secret to being content in all circumstances is trusting in the promise. In looking to Jesus. In knowing that we are members of a covenant. Knowing that God is stronger than all we may encounter. And he leads the way.

The covenants God has made have never been about avoiding suffering. Though the day is coming when every tear will be wiped away from our eyes. But God does promise that he will be with us, and that he is nearer to us than we are to ourselves. He promises that we will make it through the wilderness. He has sent his Son to be lifted up, that we may believe in his name and live. And he promises that in spite of it all, we may know happiness. Not in the fleeting sense, but in the sense of having lived a good and holy life. A life that Christ makes possible.

Covenant: Freedom

Covenant: Freedom
The Law Brings Freedom 

Exodus 20:1-17
Rev. Tim Callow 

Preached Sun. March 7th, 2021

The Hebrew people had become slaves in the nation of Egypt. For years they cried out to God for deliverance from bondage, that they would be free. God sent Moses, a Hebrew of Hebrews who by God’s gracious providence had been raised within the court of Pharaoh so that one day he would be the one to free his people. Through Moses God sent plagues onto Egypt. Plagues like frogs, and boils, and gnats, and darkness, and the Nile turned to blood. But these plagues only hardened Pharaoh’s heart. Finally, God sent the angel of death to claim the firstborn of Egypt. Finally Pharaoh relented, and set the slaves free. 

But it did not take long before Pharaoh’s heart hardened again, and he sent his chariots to come and reclaim the slaves. The Hebrew people were at the banks of the Red Sea, and all hope seemed lost. But with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm God split the sea open, and the Hebrews walked through the sea as though through dry land. And when they had crossed, and while the army of Pharaoh was crossing the sea, God let the waters fall and drowned the chariots. Then the Hebrews rejoiced, they were free. 

It was during their sojourning in the wilderness that God gave the Hebrew people the Mosaic Law, the condition of a new covenant. It may seem to us that God released his people from one bondage to another. But when we read the Old Testament, and especially when we hear from David this morning, we may be surprised by how they sing the Law’s praises and see the Law as a form of grace. “The law of the LORD is perfect, reviving the soul; the decrees of the LORD are sure, making wise the simple,” David sings, “the precepts of the LORD are right, rejoicing the heart; the commandment of the LORD is clear, enlightening the eyes.” Paul will later speak of the enslaving and futile power of the Law, and we will get to that. But for now I want to talk about its liberatory character. Why does David praise the Mosaic Law? Why did the Jewish people see it as the condition of freedom? 

Through his mighty works God had delivered his people from external tyranny, but God’s greater work was to deliver them from internal tyranny. The tyranny that we face from our own sinful desires is far stronger and more ignoble than the tyranny of states and strongmen. As soon as the Hebrews were freed from Egypt it was clear they still had this internal tyranny with them, this tyranny of the heart. The hebrews began to grumble, and to distrust God. They desired to return to their slavery in Egypt where at least they could eat cucumber. They constructed an idol made of gold, a calf, and began to dance around it. Clearly not all was right within the camps of the Hebrews. They were a stiff-necked people, stubborn, and hard of heart. 

Liberation from tyrants is one thing. Liberation from yourself is another thing entirely. The past few years we have heard about a number of pastors whose ministries were blessed by God, but who were enslaved to sinful desires. I think running a megachurch, or a large ministry, presents unique challenges for a pastor’s spiritual life. Ministry can already be lonely. But when you either founded a large church, or operate a ministry with your name on it, it can inflate your ego. It is also much harder for anyone else to hold you to account. And I’m sure Satan loves nothing more than tempting people whose failings would most scandalize the faithful.

Paradoxically, if there were more safeguards to hold these leaders to account, more safeguards to hold them to Law, they would have likely been more truly free. Freedom is not simply being able to do whatever you want. Sometimes we might think that way, but there’s no freedom in addiction, and there’s no freedom in suffering. Freedom, instead, is being able to do right, just, and good things. And insofar as we are encumbered with sinful desires, and insofar as we give in, we lose some freedom. But just law can help us, by the grace of God, move toward freedom.

John Wesley understood this principle. When he founded the Methodist Society he put a condition on membership. If you wanted to be a Methodist, in his day, you needed to follow three rules. The first rule was to do no harm. That is harm not just to others, but to do no harm to oneself. He lists a few examples of where is mind was when it came to that rule: “Doing to others as we would not they should do unto us. Doing what we know is not for the glory of God, as: “The putting on of gold and costly apparel. The taking such diversions as cannot be used in the name of the Lord Jesus. The singing those songs, or reading those books, which do not tend to the knowledge or love of God. Softness and needless self-indulgence. Laying up treasure upon earth.” The second rule is Do good. By which he meant doing good works for oneself and for others, following the example of Christ. Some examples he has, “by being in every kind merciful after their power; as they have opportunity, doing good of every possible sort, and, as far as possible, to all men: To their bodies, of the ability which God giveth, by giving food to the hungry, by clothing the naked, by visiting or helping them that are sick or in prison. To their souls, by instructing, reproving, or exhorting all we have any intercourse with; trampling under foot that enthusiastic doctrine that "we are not to do good unless our hearts be free to it.” And finally, “by attending upon all the ordinances of God.” By which he meant diligently availing ourselves of those ordinary means of grace by which Christ promises to be with us. “The public worship of God. The ministry of the Word, either read or expounded. The Supper of the Lord. Family and private prayer. Searching the Scriptures. Fasting or abstinence.”

When Methodists met in small groups they called class meetings they would discuss the three rules and how they have resolved to follow them. This was not meant to be a burden. How could it be? It was directing their hearts to true freedom. Instead, Methodists reported their spiritual life deepened, and a stronger attachment to Christ.

The Laws of Moses function similarly. These are not meant to be burdensome, though people made it that way in the end. They are meant to be life giving. They direct us away from sinful temptations, and free us for joyful obedience.

Simple Rules

Give to those who ask, and don’t refuse those who wish to borrow from you. Matthew 5:42

Nowadays if you want to say someone is real smart you liken them to Einstein. But before Einstein if you wanted to say someone is real smart you might have likened them to Adolf von Harnack. Harnack was a historian and biblical scholar par excellence, and a major public intellectual in Germany. One of his most popular books was the transcription of some of his lectures titled “What Is Christianity?” Which is never a bad question to ask. He saw in Jesus a higher ethic, a pure teaching, that would be encumbered by the husk of human tradition in the early Church. That pure teaching could be summarized in three parts: the Fatherhood of God, the Brotherhood of man, and the higher ethic that is love.

Harnack’s Jesus taught that God loves each and every one of us, that all of us are united in fraternal bonds, and that we are to do all things in the attitude of love. While other religious teachers may multiply their doctrines and other philosophers may overly complicate things, Jesus keeps it simple and pure. And a lot of people still believe in the Jesus that Harnack uncovered.

But as appealing Harnack’s summary of Jesus’ teaching may be at times, when you dig into what Jesus had to say it is rarely as pure or as simple as Harnack would make out. What is remarkable about Jesus’ moral teaching is not so much how high it is, but how low it can get. Low in the sense of the every day. Jesus gives us a lot of specific commands. Don’t look with lust. Don’t say raca. Don’t offer sacrifice if your sister or brother holds something against you. Don’t be showy in your prayers. Make sure to wash and anoint yourself when fasting. And, as I quoted above, give to those who ask, don’t refuse anyone who wishes to borrow from you.

Jesus does not first preach an attitude and tell us to do everything with that attitude. Jesus first preaches specific concrete commands. And they are hardly comprehensive. Jesus does not tell us what to do in all aspects of our life. Sometimes we may wish he did. But he does give us these strange, concrete, unavoidable commands. Like to always give to those who ask.

It’s a worthwhile adventure to commit to following some of these commands in a simple and naive way for a time. Try simply, and naively, giving to those who ask and never refusing people who want to borrow from you. See what happens. In my experience, giving to people who asked not knowing any better, I discovered new friends and found my life enriched. These commands are given to us as roadways to the Kingdom. Jesus’ ethic isn’t in an attitude of love, per se. It’s in these little acts of renunciation, these little and sometimes foolish rules, that make love possible. Maybe Jesus recognized if he just told us to love, we might become prideful. After all, I’m the one acting in love. But if he tells us to give to everyone who asks, we will have to love, though we are less tempted toward pride.

The simple rules of the gospel are given to us that we might grow in that love. But love is known in the rules. That’s how Jesus taught. He taught through parables, or story, and weird rules that make a new sort of life founded on love possible.

Covenant: Promise

Covenant: Promise
Believe in God’s Promise 

Romans 4:13-25
Rev. Tim Callow 

Preached Sun. February 28th, 2021 

I feel like we live in deeply pessimistic times. Part of it could just be me growing older, but I feel like we are far more cynical than we used to be, speaking generally. There is a sense of malaise in our country that has so many different causes. Everyone is against the way things are, but no one things they’re winning to change it. It’s easy for us to imagine a meteor striking Manhattan than it is to imagine a world full of faithful disciples of Jesus Christ, and what that might look like. It is easier for us to throw our hands up in front of forces that are much larger, and stronger than we are, and to assume the worst in others. 

The pessimism that starts in society or in politics easily trickles down into a general pessimism about life. There used to be a bumper sticker you’d see that simply said “love wins.” And at times I’m tempted to reply “really? Are you so sure? What ever gave you that idea?”

But it is in the midst of this world, and no other, that God makes his promises. It is in the midst of our lives, with all its numbing difficulty, that God promises life.

In the beginning is the promise. That is where the covenant gets its start. Before the Law with all its rules and regulations comes the promise. God’s promise of blessing, God’s promise of land, God’s promise of a nation. The promise that was made to Abram long ago, is made to us today. 

Abram, we are told, was ninety-nine years old when the Lord appeared to him and reiterated the promise he had made back when he called Abram out of the Land of Ur. “I am God Almighty; walk before me, and be blameless. And I will make my covenant between me and you, and will make you exceedingly numerous.” When the Lord said this Abram fell on his face. Then the Lord continued, “As for me, this is my covenant with you: You shall be the ancestor of a multitude of nations. No longer shall your name be Abram, but your name shall be Abraham; for I have made you the ancestor of a multitude of nations.” 

The promise was that if Abram, now Abraham, remained faithful that he would live out the meaning of his new name “Abraham.” He would be made the father of a multitude of nations. Yet Abraham was already ninety-nine years old, without a single child. It would be easy for him to laugh God off. We might say that Abram would be right to be distrustful, cynical of God’s motives, questioning God’s power here. But Paul tells us, “He did not weaken in faith when he considered his own body, which was already as good as dead (for he was about a hundred years old), or when he considered the barrenness of Sarah's womb. No distrust made him waver concerning the promise of God, but he grew strong in his faith as he gave glory to God, being fully convinced that God was able to do what he had promised.” 

Abraham was no fool. He knew he was old. He knew old men did not have children, and old women did not give birth. And yet, perhaps he was a fool. Abraham had faith in the promise of God, faith in the God who could bring something out of nothing and life out of death. And so he held firm to his faith and it was “reckoned to him as righteousness.” 

This, Paul tells us, was not written to us simply on the basis of historical interest. Abraham’s story isn’t written down just to be a good yarn, or to end up as a question on Jeopardy. But as his faith in the promise of God was reckoned to him as righteousness, and he was the father of a great nation, so too our faith in Jesus Christ as the lamb of the new covenant will be reckoned to us as righteousness as well. The true daughters and sons of Abraham are the children who keep the faith of Abraham. The children who listen to the promise of God, and believe. 

So at the beginning of the covenant lies the promise. God promises before the covenant is set in stone. And what is it that God promises? But God promises life “for God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever would believe in him should not perish but have everlasting life.”  But God promises peace, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” And God promises salvation, “If you declare with your mouth ‘Jesus is Lord,’ and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.” God promises us a full life lived not just in the hereafter but in the here and now. God promises us peace, and joy, and love. God promises to take our worry, to fill our hearts with his love. God promises deliverance from temptation and the forgiveness of all our sin. God promises these things in Jesus Christ. 

Do we, as the old hymn goes, stand on the promises of Christ our Lord? I know this is a tremendous temptation for me. When I’m in a crisis, or I’m ill, my first thought is too often “woe is me.” I recently offered up a worry of mine in prayer, and I quickly realized I may not be all that happy about it if God were to answer my prayer. Sometimes we come to cling to our own anxiety and worry and pessimism, don’t we? Why, without it, what would we have to complain about? But I only prayed more earnestly to have the worry taken away, and that I would also be happy about it.

It may seem silly to focus on daily worries as a way to exercise our faith in the promise of eternal life. Like, should I really turn to God for every tummy ache? Isn’t that overkill? Won’t God get sick of it? But if we don’t trust in God on the little things, where is our trust in God on the big things? If we don’t expect peace and joy now, what is the state of our hope in the hereafter? The promise of God ought to explode all our worldly cynicism and all our worldly malaise. No problem you face is too big for the living and active God. The God who made the 99 year old Abraham the Father of many nations, and gave the barren Sarah a son, can give you peace in the midst of strife and give comfort to your grief. He can make clear your path, and redirect your mind and heart to his love and promise.

Does it all feel too good to be true? Peace, love, joy. Eternal life. Salvation from the power of sin. Adoption as children of God? I will confess sometimes I might feel that way. How could God be so generous? Why me? And yet, that is just what God promises us this morning. That is just what God promises you this morning. Jesus Christ died and is risen. He will not die. He offers this life to you. Have you accepted it? Will you accept it? Will you join that New Covenant, the covenant of promise?

Covenant: Baptism

Covenant: Baptism
We Take on a Covenant in Baptism 

Genesis 9:8-17
Rev. Tim Callow 

Preached Sun. February 21st, 2021 

One of the unique characteristics of God of the Bible, as opposed to the gods of other faiths, is that he makes covenant with his followers. A covenant is a form of contract, concerning the rights and responsibilities of two parties. While today we write up contracts on sheets of paper, a covenant was a contract that was ritually recognized and mutually enforced. There are quite a few examples of covenants in the Bible, outside of the covenants God makes with his people. Isaac, when he is in the land of the philistines gets into a conflict with King Abimelech over the ownership of wells. The philistines won’t let him use his father’s wells, and they confiscate the wells Isaac digs up. Finally, King Abimelech arrives at Isaac’s encampment with his officers and offers a truce. He recognizes that the Lord is with Isaac, and seeks to make a covenant with him that they would be at peace. Isaac agrees. They have a feast at Isaac’s expense, and the morning after they exchange oaths. The men are now bound to each other, and peace is established. 

Perhaps one reason we teach this account of Noah’s Ark to kids is we want them to teach them about God’s covenants and God’s promises through those covenants. I’ve often thought it is strange that Noah’s Ark is such a fixture in children’s curriculum, maybe you have as well. A church I once served had a gorgeous mural in their nursery of Noah’s Ark with the rainbows and all the animals coming out. Another church had multiple ark toys. Why, when trying to teach children about the love of God, do we begin with the time God got fed up with humanity and tried to do the most of us in?

On one level, that’s what this account is about, right? God sees all the wickedness on the earth and gets sick of it. So he resolves to bring a flood to wipe out all living things on earth. But, he cannot bring himself to wipe out absolutely everything. Instead he finds Noah, who is a righteous man, and tells him of his plan. He tells him he wants him to build an Ark, of certain dimensions, and to fill the ark with his family and two of every kind of animal. Noah acts dutifully amid the jeers of his contemporaries. Until the ark is completed, the animals are corralled in, and the rain starts to pour. And the rain pours, and pours, and pours, for forty days and forty nights. A biblical idiom that means “a very long time.” After some time Noah sends out a dove, who returns having found no land. Seven days later he sends the dove again, who returns with an olive branch, signifying land. Seven days later he sent the dove and it does not return. 

When Noah finds land he builds an altar, and sacrifices to God. God then makes a covenant with Noah that he will never again flood the earth. And as a sign of that covenant he puts his bow in the sky. The rainbow that appears after a rain to remind us of God’s promise. 

Truth be told when I was taught about Noah’s Ark growing up my mind did not fixate on the destruction of the earth, or on God’s wrath. The story was taught rightly so that my mind was fixated on God’s love and on all the cute animals. God’s love, in this story, is shown through the covenant he makes with Noah and through Noah with all of humanity. That covenant being that he will no more flood the earth. A covenant that is met with a sign, the sign of his bow that shines in the sky after the rain. God knows it’s not enough that we be told, but we also yearn to see. Which is why God so often matches his promises with signs. But I digress.

God uniquely shows his love for his people through covenant. God doesn’t have to act in covenant. God could simply declare things and let it be. God doesn’t need to get his hands dirty, so to speak, in this way. But the Lord’s love for us is such that he desires to bind himself to us. Much like two people come to love each other so much they wish to be bound together for the rest of their lives and get married, God loves us very much and wishes to bind himself to us in covenant.

God covenants to us through Noah. God covenanted to Israel through Abraham and Moses. And now God covenants to us through Christ. Noah’s Ark also points to that New Covenant made through Christ on his cross, whereby we are adopted as Children of God. As God saved Noah through water, Peter reminds us, so God saves us now through the waters of baptism. In Baptism God claims us as his own, and incorporates us into this new covenant he has established. That is to say, by being made part of this covenant we are bound to God, and God has bound himself to us. As the rainbow is a sign of God’s covenant with Noah, baptism is the sign of God’s covenant with us. The covenant of grace that promises eternal life. God has made his promise, and he remains faithful to his promises. God has set in front of us the path that leads to life, and will give us the grace that leads the way. 

This season of Lent I will be discussing the covenants of God. What these covenants say about God’s love, what humanity’s response to God’s covenants says about us, and how God always remains faithful to the promises he makes in his covenants even when we are unfaithful. I think this is a good topic for us to cover in this season of all seasons. That we may be remembered that we are a covenant people, that we have taken on God’s yoke, that we may repent of the ways we have sinned. But further than that, we may also trust evermore in the promises and love of God as shown in the rainbow that streams across the sky, as shown in the water of baptism, as shown in the blood of the cross that washes us clean.

Seeing is Believing: Glory

Seeing is Believing: Glory
Jesus Christ is Fully God and Fully Man 

Mark 9:2-9
Rev. Tim Callow
Preached Sun. Feb. 14, 2021 

Soren Kierkegaard, a danish lay theologian and philosopher, tells the story of a prince who fell in love with a peasant woman. But the prince feared that he would overwhelm her with his wealth and power. Being a princess is, after all, a major responsibility. One also has to be familiar with the etiquette and ritual, it’s not all what Disney has led us to believe. So the prince hatches a plot, he puts on the rags of a peasant and goes to work with the woman. He jokes with her, listens to her stories. It creates a dramatic tension. When will the prince confess his love? Will the girl confess first? When will the prince reveal his true identity, take off his rags, and lead the girl to the castle so they can live happily ever after? Perhaps, he will even wait until the wedding night itself to reveal his true identity. 

Sometimes, we think of Jesus’ incarnation this way. We can imagine that Jesus was really God in a man suit because he knew that we could not handle his true glory and divinity. He puts on the rags of flesh to court us, that we might fall in love with him. Then we eagerly await that moment when he’ll take those rags off, and reveal his true identity, and whisk us all away to his home in the sky. 

The only problem with that, Kierkegaard says, is that Jesus is a man all the way down. There is no royal purple under his peasant rags. Jesus is fully man. The Romans knew this, they put nails through his hands and a spear through his side. They saw the blood run down. They heard him say, “I thirst.” The crucified Christ is the resurrected Christ, and it is only the crucified Christ that can save us. 

Only the crucified Christ can save us because only the crucified Christ that can show us the way of peace. If Jesus were somehow superhuman, somehow unhuman, he could not be our savior. The savior of the human race must be part of the human race. If he’s a great human teacher, he has to be teaching something that we can actually follow. When we say that God took on flesh in Jesus Christ, we are not saying that he’s a cosmic superman. He still had a human will, he still had human bones, human muscles, a human brain, and a human soul. He was every bit as human as we are. Human rags all the way down. 

This is why Paul can say, “And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing.” Remember the carol Hark the Harold Angels Sing? “Veiled in flesh the Godhead see, hail th’ incarnate deity!” While Jesus Christ is human all the way down, he is still God in flesh. God with us. He is still the eternal word living a human life. And he is still the glory of God shining in the darkness. This is what we proclaim. It is only by the name of Jesus Christ that we may be saved, that it is in this Jew from Nazareth that we find our hope. For by being God he could break the power of sin and overcome the devil, but by being human he could do so for our sake. So while by all appearance he is just another man, it is by faith that we are given the grace to see our salvation in him. 

Today is Transfiguration Sunday. Today we commemorate that strange account Mark places at the very center of his gospel, where Peter, James, and John are blessed with vision of Jesus’ divinity, in an episode that mirrors Jesus’ Baptism. Jesus leads them up a mountain, alone. Then, as they are up there, Jesus is transfigured. His clothes become dazzling white as no one could bleach them. He exudes the glory of God. And next to him stand Moses and Elijah, who are talking with him. 

Peter is terrified, and doesn’t know what to say. So he blurts out, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” Perhaps Peter mistakenly thought the end had come, and Jesus was now going to restore the Kingdom of Israel. He is, after all, talking to the great lawgiver in Moses, and to the prophet who was to come before the Messiah in Elijah. But this was not the beginning of the restoration of the Kingdom. That would be the cross. Instead a cloud comes and overshadows them. And from the cloud comes a mighty voice. “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!” Just as the whole episode began, it was over. The cloud dispersed, and they were once again alone with the Jesus they knew and love.

As they went down the mountain Jesus ordered them to tell no one what they had seen, until the resurrection.

In this moment, Peter, James, and John are given miraculous vision. It is a matter of grace, though they may not have known it at the time. It is vision that we too may be given. That vision is to see in Jesus more than just the itinerant preacher, more than just the healer, more than just the exorcist, more than just the peasant in rags. But to see in him the light that shines brighter than the sun, to see the robes bleached whiter than any human robes, to see in him the glory of divinity. The glory that was always present, though always concealed. The glory that may be seen by the light of faith.

Remember when Jesus told Nathaniel that he would see greater sights? When he told him he would see angels ascending and descending on the Son of Man? Here Peter, James, and John see those sights. They see that Jesus is not God underneath, but that this Jesus is God. And we may see as well. We may see in the rags the source of our healing, and in his flesh our salvation. 

It is this Jesus, and no other, who is our hope. And contrary to all appearances, he is Lord. If we but have the eyes that see and the ears that hear. God desires to give the eyes and ears we need to all of us, who call on his name, believe in his word, and accept the coming of the Kingdom and repent.

Seeing is Believing: Mission

Seeing is Believing: Mission

Jesus Has a Mission

Mark 1:29-39

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. Feb. 7, 2021

What a crazy day in Capernaum. Jesus goes to the synagogue and preaches. His sermon is so powerful it brings the ire of a demon he summarily drives out. He then goes to Simon Peter’s house, where Simon’s mother in law is ill with fever. The disciples tell him about her, and he heals her. His first healing. As soon as the sun sets the whole city gathers at the door of Simon’s house. Word has gotten out about his sermon, how he preached the coming of the Kingdom of God with authority. Word has gotten out about his exorcism, how the demon trembled before him and lost the battle. And word must have gotten out about his healing as well, because people come looking to be healed.

What comes next never ceases to amaze me. He heals. He exorcises. And he binds the demons. The way Mark puts it it seems so matter of fact. I imagine that’s because this is the Jesus Mark knew. The Jesus who is more powerful than any disease, and who has authority to bind all demonic power. Jesus never turns anyone away. He never says, “no I can’t do that” or “I’ll do that for you if you do this for me.” There is never a price. He does not separate the deserving from the undeserving. His healing and his power knows no limit. As the people arrive he simply offers his healing power. As the demons tremble he casts them out.

And we might imagine that this was an exhausting episode for Jesus. While it may have been mentally draining, he does try to get away, it doesn’t seem to be physically exhausting. He spends the rest of the night in prayer. The disciples run to find him. Actually, we are told they hunted for him. Ironic since he told them that if they followed him he would make them fish for people! But now they’re hunting him down! When they find him they say, “everyone is searching for you.”

Here is the second bit that never ceases to amaze me. Jesus doesn’t say “listen, I need a break.” He doesn’t say, “I’m never doing that again” or “this was a one time deal. I don’t want to enable anyone. I hope they don’t get the wrong idea.” But he says, "Let us go on to the neighboring towns, so that I may proclaim the message there also; for that is what I came out to do.” So he goes, he proclaims the gospel, he casts out demons, and he heals diseases. He does the same thing he did in Capernaum in all the neighboring towns. 

If we want an image of Jesus’ ministry, then, Mark wants us to know this is it. Jesus comes into town. He says “The Kingdom of God has come near, repent and believe this good news!” He goes to the synagogue and teaches people about the Kingdom he has come to inaugurate. The demons squeal, but there is nothing they can do. They are powerless before the almighty God. People come looking to be healed, and he heals them. He offers deliverance without price. He does not restrict who is worthy or unworthy. He simply states the fact: the kingdom of God has come. He shows them the Kingdom of God. He asks for nothing but faith in his word, and for repentance. Because if we are to live in the Kingdom of God, we must turn away from demons, and we must live a new life.

I want to emphasize two things about our gospel reading this morning. The first is Jesus’ mission. He is tireless. He has come to proclaim the Kingdom, and to show the Kingdom, to all. This remains Jesus’ mission. But now he works this mission through his Church. We are called to proclaim the Kingdom. We are called to let people know our God reigns, and he wants us to know joy. That he brings wholeness, and delivers us from the bondage of sin. That he will not rest until death is defeated. That he offers new life. It is us, now, who are called to proclaim the gospel of Jesus Christ, the gospel of the Kingdom of God. That is our mission, Christ’s mission.

The second thing I want to emphasize is what the disciples say when they find Jesus in prayer. "Everyone is searching for you.” Everyone is still searching for Jesus. Everyone wants what Jesus has to offer. Everyone is looking for his healing, his freedom, his peace, and his love. Many may not know that’s what they’re looking for, but that is why we need to proclaim the gospel. Our deepest desires, and our earnest yearnings can find their fulfillment in him. We disciples of Jesus Christ need to be bold in proclaiming that, and we need to model it as well. That in our words, and in our deeds, people can see that the life Jesus offers is a life that can be lived.

Jesus is both searching out the lost, and everyone is looking for him. The mission to proclaim the Kingdom of God continues on, and Jesus remains the desire of the nations. What an amazing mission we are called to join into. Following Jesus, we can witness to his healing and his salvation. We can be part of his transforming work in this world. When we attend to him in prayer, when we stay in the word, when we share our testimony, when we invite someone to join us in worship, when we work to feed others, when we act in love, we witness to the reality of the Kingdom that has come near. And we invite more people to join, to find Jesus, and to know his power. So they can see, too, that God has ripped heaven open. That he has sent his Son. That he offers life.

What is Truth?

“You are a king, then!” said Pilate.

Jesus answered, “You say that I am a king. In fact, the reason I was born and came into the world is to testify to the truth. Everyone on the side of truth listens to me.”

“What is truth?” retorted Pilate.- John 18:37-38a

Whenever I watch a movie about Jesus’ passion I always see this passage get misinterpreted. Jesus has been brought to Pilate to be sentenced to execution. Pilate takes the opportunity to interrogate Jesus as to the accusations the Jewish leaders have made. The interrogation ends here. Pilate asks Jesus if he is a king, Jesus replies his kingdom is not of this world, but that doesn’t phase Pilate. “So you are a King, then!” But Jesus wants him to understand he is no ordinary king. His jurisdiction does not overlap with Caesar’s jurisdiction. He testifies to the truth, and everyone on the side of truth listens to him. Then Pilate replies “what is truth?”

Too often this gets interpreted as if Pilate suddenly has some sort of existential crisis. In the course of his interrogation he begins to break down, and wonder about the nature and reality of truth. But Pilate is not earnestly asking Jesus about the truth. Pilate is being sarcastic. “What is truth!?” We might imagine Pilate saying, “There’s only one truth I know about or care about at this moment. And that’s the truth that I have the sword and you don’t. That I’m in robes and you’re in chains. That I have the authority to kill you, my life is in your hands. That’s the only ‘truth’ that matters here!”

How often are we tempted to think similarly? We think might makes right, or the strong do what they can and the weak do what they must. Seeing things through Pilate’s eyes is the world’s default. But Jesus tells us there is Truth with a capital T. “I am the way, the truth, and the life, no one comes to the Father except by me.” (John 14:6) This Truth is more real than might making right. It is more foundational than the stock market. This truth is dependable, and you can live your life by it. It’s the absolute truth of God’s love, God’s power, and God’s victory.

Pilate thought he knew the truth, but little did he know his authority was rags. It was the man in chains who had the authority to make life and dissolve it. It was the man in chains who had authority to make judgment. And he submitted himself to death on the Cross, for our sake. That is the truth to live by.

Ghosts in the Machine

Whatever the world Kurzweil envisions, it is not a human world dependent on the embodied, loving relationships that mark us as persons -- and therefore made in God’s image. - Jens Zimmermann

I came across the above article recently, about technology and the human person, and thought it helped put into words what many of us are feeling. The article is about a philosophical problem, whether or not human minds can be uploaded into computers, but it’s a philosophical problem with some practical consequences. What Jens Zimmerman points out is that for all the benefits that come with technology, whether they be the advances of medical science, new machines to make our lives easier, or new modes of communication, there is something incommunicable and irreducible about the human person that keeps us from relating to each other as mere machines, or keeps us from being able to relate to one another through screens and social media.

That is why social media can both bring us together but end up tearing us further apart. And why Zoom can bring us together but also make us feel lonely and exhausted. These tools have their place, and I for one am grateful, but they can’t replace true embodied relationship. We are not souls that have bodies, ghosts in a machine. We are embodied souls. And our bodies are not some suit we can put aside. They are intrinsic to who we are. When we act like we can really be together virtually, we lose something very important.

Our flesh, our smell, our jumping legs, and verbal tics, all indicate something true about us, all point to something incommunicable, all mark us as beings not to be used or manipulated but to be loved. The danger in a world built on the logic of technology, intoxicated with its promises, is that we might forget the person in it all. And doesn’t that tend to happen? I know many a times I’d get into arguments online, trying to “win,” forgetting there’s someone flesh and blood, a history and family, on the other side.

Jesus took on flesh and became a human person because the love of God, too, is as mysterious and incommunicable as human love. The only way God could properly show his love for us was in the way that we properly show our love for each other. And God continues to share that personal love in the Church. It is no wonder that our needing to separate through this pandemic would be so painful, God made us flesh and God made us for one another. And it is no wonder that no matter how grateful we may be for all these new virtual modes of communication, it’s just not the same. But it’s not bad. As long as we don’t put undue weight on tools that can’t replace personal presence. They ease the burden of the moment. They have their own joys. And we know this time of distancing is only temporary, and we will be in one another’s presence again.

Seeing is Believing: Authority

Seeing is Believing: Authority

Jesus Has Authority

Mark 1:21-28

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. January 31, 2021

I was a Boy Scout, growing up. Every summer I’d go with my troop to camp. We jumped around from camp to camp. But one of the camps we frequented had a particularly hard instructor at the rifle range. All us boys were afraid of him. He took no nonsense, and had all the personality of R. Lee Ermey. No one disobeyed his orders. The rumor among the boys was that he was a former marine drill sergeant. If he was, it showed. So imagine my surprise when I went to high school and he was teaching history and geography. I had expected him to run the classroom with all the discipline and authority he ran the rifle range. But as it turned out of all the teachers I had in high school, he had the hardest time managing the classroom. It was his philosophy that he would answer any question the students asked. Which meant he talked about the bell curve and penguin bowling just about every week. I saw students playing card games during his lectures. 

When he was at the rifle range, he was a man with authority. And while he was feared, he was also respected. But when he stepped into the classroom whatever it was he had in him that gave him his authority melted away. He didn’t summon it. And because he didn’t summon it the hour I had in his class tended to be the wildest of the day.

We all know authority when we see it. Sometimes authority is toxic or rotten, as in the case of a tyranny. But more often authority is freely offered or freely given. It is something people simply have, and isn’t challenged. My rifle instructor simply had authority, and it was a good thing too. A rifle range instructor at a scout camp better be strict for everyone’s safety. Mark this morning wishes to emphasize Jesus’ authority. An authority Jesus possesses to this day. An authority that will be undeniable when he comes again in glory.

We are told Jesus entered the synagogue on the sabbath to teach. The congregation was astounded by his teaching, they had never heard anything like it. Mark tells us he taught as one having authority, not like one of the scribes. No wonder. As I talked about last week, Jesus announces the coming of the Kingdom of God. He comes with a word unlike any other word. Not something to be evaluated, sifted through, criticized. But a word to be believed or rejected, pondered or scorned. He comes with all the authority of the Kingdom of God. The scribes could only talk about the word, Jesus could bring it.

Mark wants us to better understand the nature of Jesus’ authority, and the power of the Kingdom of God. So he shows us that authority in action. As it happens there is, in the synagogue, a man possessed by an unclean spirit. We might imagine that man had been in the synagogue every sabbath for the past how many years. But the unclean spirit that was within him never made a peep. The spirit could remain silent before the scribes. But Jesus comes speaking about God’s reign, with all the authority of God. The spirit cannot take it, it shrieks! 

"What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.”

Every demon trembles at the authority and power of Jesus. This demon seeks to do battle. In ancient magic one could control an entity if one knew its proper name. The demon tries to control Jesus by blurting out his identity. But all he does is confirm his authority, the authority Jesus has over all demons and all unclean spirits. Jesus rebukes him, “Be silent, and come out of him!” The man convulses, and the spirit escapes. The demon is removed from the synagogue, and the people are amazed. “What is this? A new teaching--with authority! He commands even the unclean spirits, and they obey him.”

One of the unique emphases of Mark is the power and authority of Jesus, especially against the demonic. Mark is like an action movie, where waves of henchmen and stooges come after the hero, and get mowed down. This is the first shot across the bow, but we’ll see Jesus combating the demons more and more, until finally he takes to the cross. It’s hard to read Mark’s gospel and get around all the exorcisms. The demonic is a reality for Mark, as it is for many Christians around the world who take comfort in these accounts.

We may experience the demonic in different ways. It’s not always rotating heads and pea soup. In fact, that’s very unlikely. But we do face the demonic in temptations. We do face the demonic when we are divided. Always remember Satan means accuser, and he is called the accuser of the brothers and sisters. Our word devil comes from a root that could mean “to divide.” 

However we come to experience the demonic, Satan has no power over Jesus. As we’ve seen in this episode in the synagogue, and as we’ll see in future episodes, Jesus has authority and Jesus has power. The word of Jesus, the word of the gospel, has authority and power. Before the name of Jesus temptation flees. In the name of Jesus we can find unity and comfort. There is no name in heaven, on earth, or under the earth, that is greater than the name of Jesus Christ. 

And Jesus does not use this authority to dominate. We do not need to fear the authority and power of God. It is an authority for our sake. It is an authority that shows its fullest expression not in smiting, but in the cross. Not in war, but in self-sacrifice. It is in the cross where God judges the earth and its demons. It is in the cross that Satan is overthrown. And when we lean on his name, and trust in his authority, when we believe in the proclamation of the Kingdom of God, we may be under his authority. And know his peace.

FORBIDDEN PASSAGE

A plate from FORBIDDEN PASSAGE. I don’t quite understand it either.

A wicked and adulterous generation looks for a sign, but none will be given it except the sign of Jonah." Jesus then left them and went away.- Matthew 16:4

One thing I’m doing these cold winter months is typing out some old manuscripts I inherited from my Great Great Uncle Victor. He fancied himself a thinker and author, and tried his best to get them published in his lifetime, to no avail. He handed them down to my grandmother, who did not particularly care for them. Then they ended up in the hands of my uncle, who told me they could cure insomnia (he’s right). And now they’ve ended up in my hands, and so in some misguided enterprise of filial piety I’m typing books up for self-publication.

The first book I’m typing out is entitled Forbidden Passage. It is Victor’s statement on God, the universe, and everything. Victor was a pantheist who thought Christianity needs to be updated for modern times with its science and atoms and telstar transmissions. I think it’s one great exercise in missing the point. There is a particularly telling passage where he imagines what Jesus might do in his second coming:

As for miracles, it is possible that a modern Christ would readily admit that many miracles were being performed all around Him — in medicine, surgery, electronics, chemistry, and a score of other fields. So, He would turn His attention, as mentioned, upon power politics. With diplomatic and spiritual force He would carry His fight right on through to the very heart of dissension.

My Great Great Uncle seemed to imagine that Jesus’ miracles were about doing good works for others, and that if there were better means at his disposal then he would have used those means to do his good deeds. Victor was not a dumb guy. He grew up going to Church, and was very attentive. He can quote chapter and verse decently well, though with some hiccups. I would not be surprised if Victor isn’t the only one who thinks the reason Jesus heals is because modern medicine had not been dreamed up yet.

The miracles of Jesus are not, first of all, about doing good. The miracles of Jesus are signs. Through them we learn about the Kingdom of God. In John’s Gospel we are told the first of the signs Jesus performed was turning water into wine at a wedding in Cana. That is certainly a miracle. But it is a miracle that feels somewhat frivolous. No one’s life is made meaningfully better. He may have saved the groom some denarii but that’s hardly anything to write home about. What makes the miracle at Cana spectacular is not the good Jesus did. What makes it spectacular is that it is a sign of the Kingdom. The Kingdom is like a wedding, the union of Christ and his Church. And Jesus sanctifies that wedding and brings life to that wedding. Through his miracle, through his sign, he tells us a little bit about his reign. And meditating on it we may have some understanding of Christ and the Kingdom. Understanding, as Ivan Illich puts it, akin to the laughter that comes from understanding a joke.

So it is with all the miracles; healings, exorcisms, walking on water, multiplying a sack lunch, in all these cases the miracle points beyond the immediate action Jesus makes. The miracle becomes a window into the Kingdom. And by mediating on the miracles of Jesus we meditate on the mystery of the Kingdom of God. And as Jesus performed those miracles then, so too he continues to perform miracles as he reigns and tramples down his enemies.

Lessons from Jonah

Jonah began to go into the city, going a day’s journey. And he cried, “Yet forty days, and Nineveh shall be overthrown!”- Jonah 3:4

What an unappealing message! Jonah simply pronounces judgment, with no hope for repentance. We can imagine his proclamation was fairly halfhearted. After all, when he heard the calling of God to go preach to the Ninevites he ran away. He preached, this time, somewhat under the gun. Who knows, there might be worse in store for him than a fish’s belly if he ran away again.

But against all expectation, and all sense, it only takes one day of hearing this message for all of Nineveh to declare a fast, repent, and turn to God. Despite Jonah’s half hearted preaching, despite Jonah leaving out the possibility of repentance. The Ninevites are cut to the bone, and by the grace of God they turn to God.

As we later learn, it was for this reason that Jonah had fled in the first place. He was not afraid of the Ninevites. A prophet of God, afraid of death? No, he was afraid of God’s mercy! “I pray thee, LORD, is this not what I said when I was yet in my country? That is why I made haste to flee to Tarshish; for I knew that thou art a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and repentest of evil.” (Jonah 4:2) That is, ultimately, why his preaching didn’t include the message of mercy. He wanted the Ninevites to die. He loathed his enemies. And knew that God did not share his own hatred, but instead forgave those who repent.

But God’s word is stronger than the messenger, and God’s mercy is mightier than human hatred. Despite Jonah’s best intentions, he was heard. His fears realized. God saved even his enemies.

The book ends with God giving Jonah a lesson in love. But we might find a different lesson here as well. We can be reminded of the grace of God that supersedes our own abilities. When God calls us, God is present. Even where we fail, God can bring about his purpose. Even when we actively sabotage God’s mission, God is strong enough to overcome that. So in following God we need not fear failure, but simply must embrace faithfulness.

But secondly, we see God’s earnest desire for reconciliation. God’s word brings about repentance and reconciliation even where and when reconciliation is not wanted. We might find hope here as well.

Seeing is Believing: The Good News

Seeing is Believing: The Good News

Jesus Shares News

Mark 1:14-20

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. January 24, 2021

Jesus is no abstract philosopher. He did not spend his life poring over ancient scrolls and writing dissertations. He did not idly stroll through Jerusalem disputing about the problem of the one and the many or whether virtue can be taught. The most important thing about Jesus’ message is not his moral teaching. The most important thing about Jesus’ message is the news he proclaims. 

Mark tells us Jesus’ ministry began with this proclamation of good news, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.” The good news of Jesus Christ is not a new theory. It is not a new philosophy by which to live life. It is not a new insight. It is not something to be discussed, disputed over, or systematized. The good news of Jesus Christ is precisely that, news. It is the announcement that something has taken place. It is the heralding of an event. That event is the Kingdom of God coming near. And with the proclamation of that event, God’s reign, comes a call. That call is to “repent and believe in the good news.”

That word, gospel, had a different meaning in the ancient world. When one King conquered another king he would send his heralds. And the heralds would announce to the people “good news” or “gospel.” The good news that a new king has come near, and with that new king would come peace, prosperity, and justice. All that was asked of the people was obedience. Jesus is doing a similar thing. A new King is in town, God. His rule has come near. Satan is being down underfoot. The powerful are losing their iron grip. Salvation has come. And with the rule of God comes a calling: repent. Turn from your former ways. If you are to be citizens of the King you will need to live differently. You will need to grow in righteousness. Repent, and believe in God’s rule in Jesus Christ. Accept the rule of God.

This, in a nutshell, is what Jesus came to proclaim. That is why the earliest Christian creed is as simple as “Jesus is Lord.” Jesus is the King. All who believe in Jesus Christ, and put their trust in him, join God’s rule. They become part of this new reality. We become part of this new reality.

I want to emphasize this because it is a temptation for me to treat the Gospel as if it were an idea and not news, and I’m willing to bet I’m not the only one. It’s easy to make Jesus out as someone who had some interesting ideas. Or the first person in human history to realize we should love one another. Jesus as moralist, or Jesus as philosopher, misunderstands the real importance of the gospel. The gospel is not up for debate. You accept it or you don’t. The gospel comes before every debate, because the gospel is proclamation. It’s the good news. The Gospel tells us what is. It’s where we begin. You are caught up in it, or you are not. It transforms your life, or it does not.

The Gospel of Jesus Christ, the proclamation of the Kingdom of God, is huge news! There has never been more important breaking news in the history of humanity. God’s rule has begun. And with it comes peace, joy, righteousness, and salvation. Eternal life can be ours, because God has come in Christ and has set up his Kingdom. 

How does Jesus share this news? Where does he go? Does he go to the palace of the King? Does he take a boat and search for Caesar? Does he share it with philosophers or prelates or rich men? Not at all. Instead he finds some fishermen and offers them a place on the ground floor. “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.”

The good news of the Kingdom of God is not for the select few. And unlike some news stories we see on the TV it’s not something that effects some but not others. The Kingdom of God is for everyone, even the fishermen, even you. Jesus calls us, as Jesus called Simon and Andrew, he says “come follow me, come enter the Kingdom and join me in this enterprise of spreading the news.” As Andrew and Simon were called into the joy of the Kingdom and into the vocation of sharing the good news, we too are called into the Kingdom and called to share the news.

How do we share the news? Perhaps the better question is, how could we not? If you have entered into the new reality God has brought about, your life will change. If you have entered into the new reality God has brought about, you cannot help but let people know the great joy you have found. Not because you wish to argue, not because you are right and want other to know you’re right, but because you have found someone, because you have entered into something, and you want other people to know the Kingdom and the King.

Jesus comes proclaiming the Kingdom, and he calls us to enter in. But when we enter in, how can we help but to proclaim along with him? How can we help but spread the news?

Power Belongs to God

Once God has spoken; twice have I heard this: power belongs to God.- Psalm 62:11

When I was young I learned to pray “thy will be done” and it unnerved me. Some things I were praying were too important to leave up to God’s will, I thought. What if God’s will for me wasn’t what I wanted? What I needed? But I was told that God’s will for me is better than whatever I’d want for myself, even if it might include some pain. So I kept praying “thy will be done” until I grew more comfortable with giving it all up to God.

It can be unnerving to realize that power does not belong to us, but power belongs to God. If power belongs to us, then things are in our control. We can make the world as we would want it, we could make our lives as we would want them. But it doesn’t take too long to realize that we are not, and cannot, be in control. All the power in the world is not enough to make our wills and whims come to fruition. Just ask the President of the United States. Every president is surprised by their own constraints.

At a time when things seem to be so out of hand, we can put our troubles and worries in God’s hands. Though we do not have the power to shape the world according to our whims, God has the power to make and destroy. But God’s power is not an arbitrary power, it is a power he always wields for the good of those who love him. (Rom. 8:28) It is a power grounded in love. And we know his love for us when we see Jesus on his cross. Even now, we are told, Jesus is trampling down his enemies and “The last enemy to be destroyed is death.” (1 Cor. 15:26)

It’s hard not taking matters into our own hands. But some things were never in our hands to begin with. So God asks us to lay our worries at his feet, that he may put them in his hands. In the end all power is his. “For thine is the Kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever and ever. Amen.”

Seeing is Believing: Ascending and Descending

Seeing is Believing: Ascending and Descending

We See by Faith

John 1:43-51

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. January 17, 2021

A few weeks ago I was trying to put a mask on and accidentally knocked my glasses off my face. Of course they snapped in two. Woe is me. Luckily I was able to find new frames. But for a time the world was a blur to me, and who knew when I might see clearly again? Through the lens of faith we may see things aright, no longer as a blur. Faith gives us vision, and when we have vision we can live aright. I, gratefully, did not need to attempt driving without my glasses. That would have been dangerous. So too to walk without faith. It can be dangerous. You can’t see where you ought to be going.

Our doctrines, the one faith once delivered, also give us vision. Bishop Will Willimon tells a story from his time as a university chaplain. A young philosophy student came up to him and told him he was questioning his faith in God. Bishop Willimon asked him what was troubling him specifically. The student said he wasn’t sure he could believe everything he had been taught. Now that he has been taking philosophy classes things like the Virgin Birth were beginning to seem indefensible. “Ah,” Willimon said, “but the Virgin Birth is easy. We start you on the Virgin Birth, and if you swallow that then maybe you’ll believe the real hard stuff. Like the stranger on the street is really your sister, and the poor man is really a King.”

The point is Church doctrine isn’t taught for its own sake. It’s not enough to believe in the Virgin Birth and that’s the end of it. As James tells us, you believe that God is one and that’s all well and good but so do the demons and they tremble. Church doctrine, church teaching, is about giving us a clear and true view of the world. And when we have a clear and true view of the world then we can act accordingly. It matters that Jesus is Lord, it matters that he died for our sins, and it matters that he lives forevermore. The proclamation of the Kingdom of God matters. The Trinity matters. 

These things matter not just because it’s better to be right than it is to be wrong, but because once we see aright that this is the world where Jesus walked the earth, and if we see aright that the Spirit is living and active in our midst, then we can live aright as well. By God’s grace. How do we know the poor man is really a King? But because Jesus is himself a pauper. He had no money, he left it to someone else to hold the moneybag. And he said “what you’ve done for the least of these you’ve done also for me.” How do we know the stranger can be family? Because all who are given the Spirit in baptism are adopted as children of God. So we are all family in a way that is thicker than blood. These things are true and they tell us the truth about our lives and our world. 

Both the faith by which we believe, and the faith in which we believe give us vision. When we see Jesus aright, we may learn to see the world aright. And when we see things aright we can live aright. But first comes the call, then comes the vision.

In this morning’s Gospel reading we hear Jesus’ call and promise. Jesus calls Philip, and promises Nathaniel true vision. So too today. Jesus calls us, and Jesus promises us true vision. Jesus is on his way to Galilee where he meets Philip and calls him to follow. Philip, of course, drops everything to follow. Philip finds Nathaniel, and shares the good news about Jesus, “We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth.” But Nathaniel is incredulous, "Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” So Philip invites him to come and see. The call that was first extended to Philip, is further extended to Nathaniel. As Jesus called Philip, now Nathaniel is called.

When Jesus sees Nathaniel coming he greets him with, “Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit!” This perplexes Nathaniel because he’s never seen Jesus before in his life, so how does Jesus know anything about him? "Where did you get to know me?" He asks.

“I saw you under the fig tree before Philip called you.” Jesus says. In other words, Jesus saw him even though he wasn’t really there. It’s unclear what Nathaniel was doing under that fig tree. Maybe he was studying. Maybe he was teaching. But it is enough for Nathaniel, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!”

As if this account weren’t strange enough, Jesus says something really astonishing and obscure. “Do you believe because I told you that I saw you under the fig tree? You will see greater things than these. Very truly, I tell you, you will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man.”

What can we make of all this? Jesus calls Philip, who calls Nathaniel. Jesus shows Nathaniel that he truly knows him. Nathaniel responds in faith. And what faith! He knows that Jesus is the one about whom the prophets wrote. He knows he is the Son of God, the King of Israel. But Jesus promises him that with the eyes of faith he will see a greater vision. 

That line about angels ascending and descending sounds a lot like Jacob’s vision on the ladder. Jacob, also known as Israel, had a vision when he was on the run. As he lay to sleep on a rock, he saw a ladder reaching to heaven and angels ascending and descending it. When he woke up he said he was at the gate of heaven, and did not know it. And called the place Bethel, meaning house of God.

Perhaps what Jesus is saying is, with the eyes of faith you will see a greater vision than even what you’ve just said. You will not only see by faith the Son of God, you will not only see by faith the King of Israel. What you will see, with the faith I give you, is that I am where heaven and earth meet. I am the one mediator of grace. I am the incarnation. I am God and man. 

In Jesus heaven is opened to us. And I don’t just mean heaven is open for us when we die, but heaven is open now. The power that comes from heaven, by the grace of God, is given to his Church. And in the next few weeks we will see how that power was worked in Jesus’ ministry. But the vision Jesus says Nathaniel will have by faith, is a vision we too may have. When we respond to the call of God in faith, and follow him in discipleship, we are given vision. We can see things as they are. Not just a pauper, but a King.

So what have you seen? Have you seen roaming Kings? A large family? Angels ascending and descending? Fire from heaven? Through Jesus we may see these visions and more. By faith we see the way things really are.

The Renewed Mind

I appeal to you therefore, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your reasonable worship. Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God — what is good and acceptable and perfect.- Romans 12:1-2

I had anxiety issues growing up, and still have some anxiety attacks to this day. When I was in high school I could dependably have an anxiety attack from 7AM through to 10AM. It made gym class especially difficult. I don’t like bringing this up too much. It’s not shame, I am not ashamed of any of this. But I’m not looking for sympathy. My struggle with anxiety is one I have large control over now, by the grace of God.

But I suppose my experience with anxiety is a major reason why I distrust my own desires and thoughts. I experience my mind as quite literally broken and in need of healing. I am still, at times, given to irrational and generalized fear. It makes perfect sense to me why Paul would charge us to be transformed by the mind’s renewal. Paul is not saying that if we think happy thoughts or engage in the right practices that we may renew our own minds. Pulling ourselves up by our own bootstraps. Paul had a similar experience with his own mind. “I can will what is right, but I cannot do it. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do.” (Rom. 7:18-19) This is not the confession of a man with control of his faculties. Rather, Paul is saying that when we submit to Christ, make of our lives a living sacrifice to him, that God will renew our minds.

Our first cooperation with God is to let him do his work. It is not within us to control our own thoughts or own desires. Our thoughts and our desires are broken by the domination of sin. And sin is most powerful in our lives when it is disguised as good and pleasant works. Such as the individual who tries to pick themselves up by their own bootstraps, make themselves a better person, but in all their habit forming and diligence fails to lay it at God’s feet. But it is the good pleasure and love of God to heal our thoughts and desires. We are given opportunity to practice that healing. But it is first, and foremost, the gift of God. It is first, and foremost grace.

Our minds can be renewed, but that renewal is in the first and last instance the work of God.

Scratching That Itch

“And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”- Philippians 4:7

I come from the Upper Peninsula where the mosquitos roam. Growing up everyone always complained about how bad the mosquitos were, but I assumed it was normal. It wasn’t until I left town for college that I realized the amount of mosquitos we have up there is not, in fact, normal. It is ridiculous. When there is a ridiculous amount of mosquitos you’re bound to get bit. And I got bit plenty of times. 

I’m told that if you don’t scratch a mosquito bite it eventually stops itching and all is well. I am not one of those people who can stop scratching. I enjoy scratching. I’ll scratch until I have destroyed that bump. It’s not the most pleasant way to deal with it, and it’s likely the most bothersome. But that’s my habit, I can’t stop scratching that itch.

I think there are all sorts of things in our lives that are like that itchy mosquito bite. We get some bad news and we can’t stop worrying about it. Someone insulted us and we can’t let go of our anger as we imagine the various ways we can get back at them. There are all sorts of potential fears and anxieties that we can’t let go from our heads. Is it because we are so oppressed by them, they’re so omnipresent? Or is it sometimes that we in some way enjoy them? That we cannot help but feed into our anger, our fear, and our anxiety? Why, without it, what would I do? Why, without it, how can I pity myself?

I do not mean to cast blame on the victim. We all face trials. I wouldn’t dare diagnose any given person this way. But I am speaking from personal experience here. Sometimes I pray for God to take this worry away, or to drive away my anger, and I realize in the moment that I make the prayer that I desire that worry, and I cherish that anger. As soon as the prayer leaves my lips it feels halfhearted, as if I secretly desire that God would not listen, that his peace would not guard my heart and my mind. Maybe you’ve felt the same way. 

It’s a thorny issue. How can we desire, in a way, our own suffering? But this is an aspect of the fall, and a way sin dominates us. Sin doesn’t dominate us against our will, too often sin dominates us because we desire it. Our own desires are often twisted, to the point that we would rather be charged with anxiety than the peace of God. The good news is that God knows what we need before we even ask it, and God’s blessings are not dependent on our will or actions. God’s blessings are dependent on God’s love. Period.

Do not let anything get in the way of prayer. It is one way God works to mend our desires, to bring us to the point where we do not simply scratch the itch of anger, but learn to desire and adore God’s peace. Do not let anything get in the way of Scripture, where the blessings of peace are laid out. Let God work in you, and through you. And he can take the itch away.

Seeing is Believing: The Open Heaven

Seeing is Believing: The Open Heaven

We Cannot Be Resigned

Mark 1:4-11

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. January 10, 2021

One of the great temptations today, for a disciple of Jesus Christ, is resignation. That is to say, to begrudgingly accept things as they are as if they were inevitable. When we resign ourselves to the way things are, when we think nothing can change, what we are really doing is disbelieving God’s promises. We are disbelieving God’s promises because God promises peace and joy and justice. God promises transformation, and an answer to our hope. When we resign ourselves to the way things are we are saying God does not act, and God cannot keep his promises to us.

The Old Testament shows many examples of this resignation to the world as it is. When God delivers the Israelites from Egypt with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm, shattering the armies of Pharaoh, the Israelites worry about where their food and water will come from. They demand that Moses strike the rock that they might have water, because they do not trust in the goodness of God. In the days of Samuel the Israelites demand a king so they can be like the other nations. They want a man to fight their battles for them, because they no longer trust in God to fight their battles. They resign themselves to the world as it is, a world of strong men and stronger armies. A world of empires and Kings. They don’t accept the promise of God, that if they love him he will fight for them. The promise of God isn’t real for them, all that is real is bronze and iron.

Even today, after two thousand years of Christian history it’s easy to fall into that same resignation. Whether we resign ourselves to the unfortunate knowledge that the leopard cannot change his or her spots. Or resign ourselves to the injustices of the world. Or we resign ourselves to churches that must shrink, that people just aren’t all that interested anymore. When I was in my last placement, I remember feeling resigned to our program’s limitations. My charge was in a cooperative parish that worked as a General Board of Global Ministries mission site. And our vision for the ministry was far larger than what was realistic. We needed a base of operations for Volunteers in Mission teams and for our materials. But finances had always been tight, and we had nothing saved up. While we looked around, it seemed like a pipe dream. Until we learned an old school was on the market for $10k. And a very generous donor, who believed in what we wanted to do, and believed in the promise and power of God, made the donation. We went from a vision too big for our britches, to scrambling to where God was taking us. If God can make things happen for a few small churches in the middle of nowhere, God can make things happen in our lives. 

The wonderful thing about resignation is that you are almost always right. It is often enough a self-fulfilling prophecy. If the leopard won’t change his spots, you won’t give them a chance to do so. If there is no one searching, if Christ isn’t still calling people to his church, then you’ll never find them. But the painful thing is you lose a sense of wonder at the world, and no longer see the work and power of God. If God can save, surely God can transform.

We always resign ourselves when we are certain we know the way things really are, and we know the way things really work. But the beauty of faith is accepting the world is not the way we think it is. Faith is recognizing that we do not need to be in control, because God is in control. And God can lead the leopard to change her spots. God still calls people to be his own. God’s activity in the world did not stop when John of Patmos finished the Book of Revelation. But, in fact, Christ reigns. And Paul tells us he must reign until he puts all enemies under his feet.

Our gospel reading this morning comes from the beginning of Mark’s Gospel. He is recounting Jesus’ baptism. John was baptizing at the river Jordan, and all Jerusalem was going to him to be baptized for the forgiveness of their sins. But John was sent to prepare the way of someone far mightier. He says, "The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.” I baptize you with water as a sign of your repentance. But when he comes, the one they call the messiah, he will baptize with the Holy Spirit. The same Spirit that was upon the waters at the creation. The same Spirit that cut the Red Sea in two. The same Spirit by which Elijah called down fire from heaven. And the same Spirit by which the prophets spoke. 

We are told that Jesus was among this crowd who came to be baptized, and when he came up out of the waters he saw an astonishing vision. “He saw the heavens ripped open, and the Spirit coming down like a dove.” Then he heard the very words of the Father, presumably through the hole in the heavens, “"You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

Mark is the only gospel that tells us Jesus saw the Heavens ripped open, much like the veil in the Temple was ripped open top to bottom at the crucifixion. It is a powerful and almost violent image. It is through the hole in the sky that the Father speaks and the Spirit comes down. And we are never told that the Heavens, once ripped asunder, were put back together. The implication seems to be that they, in fact, were not. That the hole in the heavens Jesus saw exists to this very day. That the barrier between earth and heaven is torn. And the place where Heaven and earth meet is Christ. The beloved. The lamb of God.

Like I said before, resignation relies on thinking we know how things really are. We know the leopard will not change its spots. We know how the world works. We know life in this age requires certain grim necessities. But how can we be resigned in a world where the heavens have been torn open and the Father speaks? How can we be resigned in a world where we are gifted the very Spirit of God? As we heard in the reading from Acts, we receive that same Spirit in our own baptisms. The heavens remain open. God is still active. This is not a closed world, but it is an open one. Open to the gracious God who lives and who acts and who makes salvation.

How can we ever remain resigned to the way things are, when by grace God fulfills his promises? By faith we know the heavens are torn asunder, and God is living and active. So much of discipleship is learning to see by faith. Learning to see this world not in terms of resignation, but in terms of hope. We cannot predict or calculate the grace of God. We can only follow. We can only rejoice.

Epiphany: The Call of God

Epiphany: The Call of God

God Calls All

Matthew 2:1-12

Rev. Tim Callow

Preached Sun. January 3, 2021

I have mentioned Augustine of Hippo a few times, since I’ve been here. I can’t help but quote him. Maybe I should tell his story if I’m going to keep referring to him. Augustine was a bishop in the late Roman Empire. Hippo, the seat that he served, was in modern day Algeria in North Africa. But Augustine wasn’t always a Christian. He talks about his early life and conversion in his book Confessions.

Augustine was born to a modest african family. His mother, Monica, was a devout Christian while his father was a pagan most of his life. So Augustine was pulled each way. He was a spectacular student and studied rhetoric. His skills as an orator would eventually bring him to Rome. But first he studied in a city called Carthage. There he fell in with the other young men who were boastful and licentious. But Augustine was a very introspective young man, and knew he wanted more in life than wine and women. He studied the works of a philosopher named Cicero, and soon fell in with a religious sect known to history as the Manicheans. Maybe you’ve heard of them before. They believed there were two forces in the world, good and evil, and these forces were always at odds.

Augustine studied the Manicheans closely, but very quickly lost interest in them. He began reading Platonists, because they seemed closer to the truth. But even then his interest began to wane. All the way through his mother Monica would pray for him, and acted as a witness calling him back to the faith she baptized him in. But Augustine knew he’d have to give up his life with his friends if he became a Christian. One time he prayed, “Lord, make me chaste and continent, but not yet.”

When Augustine turned 31 he finally converted to Christianity, and the story he tells in the Confessions is vivid. He was outside resting when he heard a child’s voice playfully sing “tolle lege, tolle lege” which is latin for “take up and read! take up and read!” Accepting the prompting he picked up a copy of Paul’s letter to the Romans he had handy. And this is what he read, “Not in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and wantonness, not in strife and envying, but put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh to fulfill the lusts thereof.” For Augustine this passage was enough. He wrote, “Belatedly I loved thee, O Beauty so ancient and so new, belatedly I loved thee. For see, thou wast within and I was without, and I sought thee out there. Unlovely, I rushed heedlessly among the lovely things thou hast made. Thou wast with me, but I was not with thee. These things kept me far from thee; even though they were not at all unless they were in thee. Thou didst call and cry aloud, and didst force open my deafness. Thou didst gleam and shine, and didst chase away my blindness. Thou didst breathe fragrant odors and I drew in my breath; and now I pant for thee. I tasted, and now I hunger and thirst. Thou didst touch me, and I burned for thy peace.”

Augustine opens his confessions by saying, “our hearts are restless, O Lord, until they find their rest in you.” Looking back at his life he sees that he was always restless. All the philosophies, all the experiences, everything the world had to offer, was not enough for the young man. He needed to rest in the one he was made for. All his searching, all his desiring, he came to discover, was for God in Christ. And so he surrendered. He accepted Jesus Christ as Lord.

What Augustine came to realize, then, was that God called him. As God called Augustine of Hippo, so God calls each and every one of us. This feast of the Epiphany, this day we set aside at the end of the Christmas season, is a time to remind ourselves of God’s call for everyone and the importance of being awake, alert, and observant. Eventually God’s call got through to Augustine, and he learned to hear. Have you heard God’s call for your life?

In our Gospel reading we see the contrast between the insiders and the outsiders. The Jerusalem establishment and the pagan wise men. The Jerusalem establishment has everything necessary to recognize Jesus’ birth. They know Balaam’s prophecy about a star, “a star will come out of Jacob.” They know that he is to be born in Bethlehem, as the scribes recount. They possess all the prophecies, all the scriptures, and Bethlehem is in their backyard. But when the pagan astrologers show up, offering gifts to the newborn king whose star they witnessed, everyone is deathly frightened. No one was looking for a Messiah. Who needed a Messiah? They had Herod. He was good enough. And Herod certainly wasn’t going to step aside for any man. Let alone an infant.

The astrologers, the wise men, lacked any of those benefits. They likely had never heard of Bethlehem. Jerusalem was far away. They had no Old Testament. They were not familiar with the prophecies. All they have are the stars. Stars they had been trained to observe since their youth. They knew how to silence their minds and their hearts, and how to observe, and how to let the stars speak to them. The practice of astrology is not looked on very kindly in the Old Testament. A prophet, after all, has no need of the stars he or she can simply go to the one who made the stars. But even so God chose to speak through a star. Because God calls everyone, even the pagan astrologers. 

Christ is the light, and his light shines over the earth. He calls and beckons all of good heart and good will to follow him. He calls all who are restless to rest in him. But all it takes is for us to look. To really look. Then we will see the works of Jesus. Then we will see his abounding grace and wondrous love. When we silence our hearts to listen for his call, when we truly look, we may see and hear.

That is, after all, how it went for Augustine. He had all sorts of reasons not to listen. But one day he did. And it happened so off the cuff. It happened in such an ordinary way. But he listened. He listened to the gospel, he heard the calling of God. And he followed. And his life truly began.