Return. Repair. Restore

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Text: Genesis 33:1, 3-5, 8-11;   John 21: 1-6, 9-11, 15-17

Oh friends, on this All Hallow’s Eve we find ourselves with two ghost stories of our scriptures…

Okay, okay, they aren’t exactly ghost stories.

But they are about people who were lost, left for dead, and cast out.

They are about relationships coming back from the brink of death.

They are about betrayal and reconciliation and forgiveness. 

About laying old demons and ghosts and mistakes to rest so that new life can burst forth.

And while we might not usually think about these two scriptures as stewardship material, both of them tell a story about the hurt and harm that comes when we prioritize our own economic and social well-being at the expense of others… and about the abundance of life we find when we allow God to restore us. 

The first story we heard this morning began with conflict in the womb! 

Two twin brothers vying to be first and for their place in the world. 

And when Jacob comes out second, clinging to the heel of his brother, Esau, he becomes the vulnerable one.

Only, Jacob… with the blessing of his mother… was not satisfied with his place.

He schemed to steal his brother’s birthright, blessing, and inheritance.

Jacob took what did not belong to him and damaged relationships and lives in the process. 

He has to flee for his life… which leads us to wonder if any of it was worth it. 

Many of our families have experienced pain and conflict and bickering when a loved one dies.

Who gets what, how things are divided, what was said in the will or what was promised… the tension and stress of these realities are compounded by grief that comes out sideways. 

I’ve experienced this in my own extended family and the heartbreaking division and separation that resulted and still has not been reconciled.

But the story of Jacob and Esau is not limited to a family squabble about inheritance.

It is also a story about how the happenstances of our birth: where and when we are born impact our ability to thrive in this world. 

It is a story about the unequal distribution of wealth and resources. 

And it is also a story about what happens when any party focuses on their own self-interest at the expense of others. 

This past week, I participated virtually as a director at the fall meeting of Global Ministries. 

As we celebrate ministry from everywhere-to-everywhere, we also celebrate the outpouring of compassion and love that is a key part of our mission.

And, I was reminded once again of the damage that inequity has not just on the vulnerable, but on the entire world. 

From climate change, to global migration, to the disparity in Covid-19 vaccination distribution, our lives are interconnected.

Any belief that we can procure and protect our own individual or national economic security without a ripple of consequences that impact others and ultimately come back to us is false. 

Our gospel reading is one of the resurrection stories that John records, but to fully understand its message we also must go back in time.

We return to the shoreline where a struggling fisherman heard the call to drop his nets and follow Jesus.

Peter’s life was transformed in that moment as he left behind his livelihood to embark on God’s mission at work in his life. 

Most of us could not make such a drastic and risky change in our lives and we cannot help but admire him for doing so.

And yet, even Peter, had moments where he put his own well-being and security above the call of Jesus in his life. 

In a moment where he could have stood up for his Messiah, Peter denied that he knew the Lord.

Not once.  Not twice.  But three times. 

He got tangled up in his own self-interest and the guilt and the shame haunted him. 

Even after experiencing the miracle of the resurrection, Peter wasn’t sure what to do with himself and instead of carrying on the ministry and getting to work, he acted like none of it had every happened.

He went back to business as usual and put his boat out to sea to catch some fish. 

I see in Peter’s story a journey that many people of faith have experienced. 

We have conversion moments and mountaintop moments along our faith journey that radically shift our minds and transform our hearts. 

We become more loving and generous and bold in our faith.

But there are moments that we become caught by those old fears or shame or selfish desires and we slip back into business as usual. 

Our energy and passion for God’s work in the world starts to wane.

Faith becomes about me, rather than we. 

We see this when folks burnout.

We see this when churches become inwardly focused and maintain the status quo.

We see this even in denominational conversations when the fears about the budget and funding lead us to cuts that eliminate vital ministries.  

And in all of those cases, our ministry becomes more known by arguments and complacency, rather than the life-giving power of Jesus. 

Imagine if that is where those stories each ended. 

A world in which self-interest and fear, division and inequity ruled the narrative. 

But friends, that is not the end of these stories. 

Our scriptures this morning are stories about how when we return back to our relationships we have the opportunity to repair the harm and God restores us to abundant living. 

They are about the restoration of dignity.

The restoration of broken relationships with our neighbors.

The restoration of our relationship to God.

The restoration of a new economy – God’s economy. 

Jacob returns home and seeks to repair any harm caused to his sibling by inundating him with gifts of lifestock and servants and wealth.

Goats and sheep and camels and cows and donkeys… all sent as a gift of reconciliation. 

Jacob is making amends for what he had stolen. 

And yet even as he is preparing to grovel and beg for his life from his elder brother, Esau runs out to meet him with radical love and forgiveness. 

Esau is focused on love and can’t even begin to comprehend this gift.

“I have enough.  I have plenty.  Keep what is yours,” is his response. 

When we are focused on love and reconciliation… there is always enough.

Because there is no mine and yours.  No winners and losers.  No divisions of class.

We simply work to care for one another. 

Or as Bishop Sue Haupert-Johnson put it – we practice gentleness… magnanimity… “yielding me for the sake of we.” 

It is not just our relationships that are restored, but our very souls and our communal life together. 

In the same way, Peter is struggling when he realizes that he cannot simply return to the old ways.  They fish all night and catch nothing.

But a familiar voice calls out from the sea shore and challenges him to throw his net on the other side. 

Jesus sets a feast of forgiveness and abundance, reaching out, ready to offer grace. 

Three questions follow their breakfast by the water.

Three opportunities to confess and proclaim.

Three chances for Peter to reconcile his guilt and shame over his denial. 

And in the instructions that follow each question, Jesus shows Peter… and shows us… how to move forward.

Feed my lamps.

Take care of my sheep.

Feed my sheep.

Be about the work of the church.

Focus on what I have called you to do.

Love one another.

Be generous with what you have. 

Forgive.

Repair.

Restore.

And you will find life and abundance. 

Love God.

Love your neighbor.

Love yourself.

We don’t have to sacrifice everything in order to be good stewards.

We are simply asked to remember that the well-being and life of the people around us is essential to the well-being and life of ourselves.

We are asked to remember that abundance is meant to be shared.

That burdens are as well. 

And that God’s money story is one of blessing, provision, forgiveness, and love. 

May that story change our lives. Amen. 

Let Go and Love

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Text: Deuteronomy 15:1-2, 7-11;  Matthew 19: 16-22

Over the last week or two, my husband and I have watched the first season of Netflix’s immensely popular Korean drama, Squid Game. 

It isn’t a show I would recommend you run home and watch… it is incredibly and senselessly violent…  but as I thought about our texts for this morning, I kept going back to the show’s premise. 

456 players are invited into a game. 

They are all drowning in debt.

Overwhelmed by what they owe.

And if they play and win six games, children’s games, they will receive the equivalent of $38 million dollars. 

If they lose, they forfeit their life. 

In an AP story about the series, Kim Tong-Hyung notes that the story is striking nerves in South Korea where debt is soaring:

“Many South Koreans despair of advancing in a society where good jobs are increasingly scarce and housing prices have skyrocketed, enticing many to borrow heavily to gamble on risky financial investments or cryptocurrencies.  Household debt, at over… ($1.5 trillion), now exceeds the country’s annual economic output.”

You can’t help but notice those underlying concerns for a society on the brink because of debt as you watch Squid Game… televisions in the background of scenes echo these kind of sobering statistics.

And it isn’t just South Korea. Household debt in the United States just reached a new high at $15 trillion; the average debt among consumers is  $92,727.    This includes mortgages and student loans, as well as credit card balances… not all of which is unhealthy debt to carry.  And yet the weight of those bills looms over us.  

The players in the Squid Game are given a choice.  They could live with the consequences of their debt or they could take a chance on a life where they would never have to worry about debt again. 

But they would have to fight, and kill, and scheme their way to the top.

Unlike the show, where players are given a choice between life and death, scripture shows us a third way. 

What if we were set free from the burden of debt… without having to harm or sacrifice or step on the lives of others?  

If we go back to our text from Deuteronomy, that was God’s intention for human community.

Moses lays out what the ten commandments mean for their practical life with one another.  We find instructions, laws, intended to help us love God, love our neighbor, and trust in God’s blessings.

And one of those rules is that every seventh year, the people were instructed to cancel all debts. Forgive the loan. Release the debtor.  And if we read on through the end of the chapter, the call to set free any indebted servants or slaves. 

This is because the burden of debt impacts not just the person who owes money, but their family for generations to come. 

It impacts their dignity and their worth as a human being.

It creates classes and distinctions between us as people that are unhealthy. 

As Lisle Gwynn Garrity writes in her artist statement, “the scheduled practice of releasing debts every seven years was designed to be both preventative and restorative.  It prevented the wealth gap from growing beyond repair.  It prevented systemic poverty from becoming strategic enslavement.  It softened hearts turned cold and loosened fists clenched too tight.  This practice of release reminds us that net worth is not synonymous with self-worth.” (A Sanctified Art)

I can’t help but think about the UAW strike at John Deere as I read those words.  The reality is that there is a growing gap between the wages of workers and management.  One of the primary concerns of labor right now is how to fairly share record earnings with employees and criticism over the drastic salary increases of the CEO.

Rules like these were intended to care for the dignity of each person and their relationship to the larger community.

But they were also a way to experience the continued blessings of God.

Just as God had set them free from the land of Egypt, so they were to set one another free. 

Their communal economic life is to be rooted in freedom and stewardship and generosity. Rev. Pamela Hawkins writes, “Women and men are to embody God’s love for neighbors through practical, timely forgiving of debts and freeing of slaves, practicing a theology of liberation.”  (CEB Women’s Bible, page 226)

And likewise, the people were called to be generous to those in need, lending freely to the poor.  No matter if the person could repay.  No matter if the year of jubilee was coming near.

The Israelites were called to freely give of their possessions, because as Elizabeth Corrie notes, “the land – and the wealth it provided – belonged to God.  We show ingratitude when we refuse to share what was never ours to keep.” (CEB Women’s Bible, page 226)

We show ingratitude when we refuse to share what was never ours to keep.

Stewardship is the awareness that everything we have and everything we are is a gift.

A precious, precarious gift.

Not something to be hoarded but meant to be freely shared so that everyone we meet can receive these blessings of God as well. 

But when we choose to play economic games that create winners and losers, the rich and the poor, slaves and owners… we have turned to a life of sin.

As Liz Theoharis puts it, it is, “…a sin against God if your brother or sister has to call out against you because you’re robbing their wages or because you’re not releasing their debts or because you’re making them slaves… the way you honor God is by how you care for yourself and your neighbor… There’s no way to be right with God if your neighbor is being oppressed.”   

Which brings us to our text from Matthew. 

A rich man approaches Jesus, searching for how to experience eternal, abundant life with God.

“Keep the commandments,” is Jesus’ answer… specifically all of the commandments that have to do with loving our neighbor.

Jesus doesn’t tell the man to say a particular prayer.

Or to focus on his own personal relationship with his Savior.

Jesus invites the man to take responsibility for the lives of his neighbors. 

And while this man with many possessions replies that he has done this, Jesus pushes him further:  “If you want to be complete, go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor.  Then you will have treasure in heaven. And come follow me.”

You see, I don’t think we can separate this story of the rich man from our text in Deuteronomy. 

He is living in a day and a time when the practice of Jubilee… the seventh year releasing of debts was not being practiced.

And yet, the reality of God’s intention for our human community remains the same. 

Our economic lives and our spiritual lives are one in the same and we honor God by how we care for ourselves and our neighbors. 

We honor God by being generous with the gifts we have received.

We honor God by being responsible stewards of what was “never ours to keep.”

We honor God by letting go of what we think belongs to us so that others might have life and life abundant. 

And this man didn’t know if he could let go. 

In preparing for today, I came across a wonderful piece by Leah Schade called “I want Jesus to Let Me Off the Hook:  The Rich Young Man and Me.”

She describes what she wishes she found in this text: 

“I can follow Jesus’ prescribed sequence in reverse!  1) Follow him.  2) get my heaven-treasure. 3) Give some money to “the poor.” 4) Sell off a couple of things I don’t want at a yard sale. 5) go happily on my way…

But it doesn’t work that way does it?” Schade writes. “Jesus was specific about the order of those verbs: go, sell, give, receive, follow.”

It is in letting go, in giving, that we receive. 

It is in holding our wealth and our ways loosely, that we discover immense riches.

When we focus our lives on the needs of others, we will discover the path to God.

Or as Theoharis put it, we can’t forget the content of the good news Jesus came to preach: ” and that is release of slaves, remission of debts, and the year of the Jubilee.”   

As we studied this summer, the first Christian community tried to live this out.  They sold their possessions and gave it all to the community and there was no one in need among them. 

They came to experience the joy of a life where the blessings of God were shared by one and all.  A life where they truly loved God and loved their neighbors every single day. 

They let go of class distinctions between the wealthy and the poor.

They let go of the power that money holds over their lives.

They let go of the shame of having too much or too little.

They let go and released it all and they rested and trusted in God’s blessings that poured into their lives. 

Where do we find ourselves in this story? 

We find ourselves in a world filled with debt.

A world with huge economic and social disparities between the wealthy and the poor. 

In the final episode of Squid Game… and don’t worry, it’s not a spoiler… one of the characters ponders a life of poverty and a life of riches:

“Do you know what someone who doesn’t have any money has in common with someone with too much money to know what to do with?” he asks.  “Living is no fun for either of them.”

But honestly, it isn’t just about the rich and the poor.  We find ourselves in a world in which we do believe our self-worth is tied in with our net worth and so we have leveraged our lives to gain an illusion.

Or as Leah Schade points out… “most of us are just ‘desperately faking middle class.’ Many of us are just one disaster, one health crisis, one pink slip… away from losing everything…”

Because that is the thing, right… the lesson from Deuteronomy… whether we are rich or poor, the debtor or the collector, the slave or the owner… is all a twist of fate.

We find ourselves in a life and death struggle to keep moving up, everyone so desperately clinging to what we have, and frankly, it isn’t fun for any of us.

But there is another way. 

What must we do to have eternal life? Real, true, abundant living? 

A life filled with joy and treasures and community and grace and love?

e need to let go of the power that money holds over our lives.

We need to let go of our shame and our anxiety, our guilt and our greed.

We need to let go of the idea that the stuff we have will save us. 

And while it isn’t going to be a popular idea… we need to release the people around us.

We need to let go of the idea that another person deserves to be poor or that someone has earned their wealth. 

We need to set one another free from our debts and labels.

We need repent of how our economic practices have kept folks in generational poverty and have created divisions between us.   

Because we were all slaves in the land of Egypt.

We were all formed from the dust of the earth.

We all have the breath of the living God within us. 

We need to discover what it means to truly let go and love our neighbors. 

Maybe then, we will discover once again the blessings of God that are so richly poured out upon us all. 

For when we go to the world…

When we give all we think we possess away…

We will find the joy of abundant life.

Not just for ourselves, but for everyone we meet.

Amen. 

Remember Enough

Text: Exodus 16: 1-18

Friends, over the next several weeks in worship, we are going to talk about how we connect our faith, our life, and our finances. 

And while on one very practical level our stewardship time helps our church leaders to set a budget for the coming year, there is a much bigger reason that we take time every year to talk about generosity and stewardship.

Because even if we want to avoid the conversation, Jesus is very interested in what we do with our money and resources. 

Your money story is a spiritual story and when we let God into this part of our lives, we find grace and love and transformation and joy. 

Let us pray…

“Enough” by John van de Laar

Worry and stress are not hard for us, God,
We do them without thinking:

There is always the potential of threat
To our security,
Our comfort,
Our health,
Our relationships,
Our lives.
And we foolishly think that we could silence the fear
If we just had enough money,
Enough insurance,
Enough toys,
Enough stored away for a rainy day.
It’s never enough, though;
The voice of our fear will not be dismissed so easily.

But in the small, silent places within us is another voice;
One that beckons us into the foolishness of faith,
That points our gaze to the birds and the flowers,
That in unguarded moments, lets our muscles relax.
And our hearts lean into loved ones.;
In unexpected whispers we hear it,
Calling us to remember your promises,
Your grace,
Your faithfulness;
And, suddenly, we discover,
That it is enough.
Amen.

In the words that I just shared with you from John van de Laar, we hear echoes of the story that the world tries to tell us about money. 

There is never enough.

We live with fear and stress and worry… and so much of that has been compounded by the pandemic and economic uncertainties and supply chain disruptions and… and…

There is always something out there with the potential to bring it all crashing to the ground.

Even in the moments when everything is okay…

When we find our footing…

When we have experienced a transformation for good…

We struggle to let go of the fear.

That is what we find in Exodus. 

It is a story of a people who just a month and a half before were still in the land of Egypt. 

They were living in “an economy of fear and deprivation,” writes Erin Weber-Johnson but God liberated them from oppression. 

Can you imagine the joy and the freedom and the excitement of being able to write a new story for your life? 

And yet they struggled to let go of their fear.

They were not yet sure what it meant to trust in God, they were already looking back upon their days in captivity with rose-colored glasses. 

You see, they remembered that at the end of those days, they could sit by the fire and their pots were full and bread was plentiful… or at least it seemed that way in their memories.

They forgot that they could never produce enough to satisfy their oppressor.

Whether they lived or died, how many bricks they had to make, what materials they had to do so with… it was all based upon the whims of Pharaoh and their overseers.

The work was brutal and unending… or as Walter Bruggemann describes it “the endless rat race for sufficiency.” 

Like livestock must be fed and equipment has to be maintained, the Egyptians knew they had to keep their workforce alive in order for them to work. 

But it was never really enough. 

The bare necessities of food and water… which the Israelites found themselves crying out for in the new barren land… are not enough

And to be honest, many of us experience this in our own lives, don’t we?  

We work and we work, thinking eventually we might have enough money to provide for more than our basic needs… we work incredibly hard so that someday we might enjoy our life and by the time we get there we are too tired and worn out to experience it.

Our quest for “enough” is killing us. 

Or perhaps your story is more like that of Pharoah. 

We so fiercely guard what we have acquired that we begin to see outside forces as a threat to our power and position. 

So we rail against taxes and we bemoan immigrants and we cry out about what belongs to us.

Or maybe it is far simpler… we hoard what we have without even being aware of the people we have impacted. 

We have moved far beyond “enough”; filling our closets, and homes, and garages, and storage units with things and we cannot even remember why and we are too afraid or ashamed to consider the consequences of such a life. 

Both of these stories are ruled by fear. 

A fear that there never has been and never will be enough.

As Rev. Sarah Are writes,

Our anxiety is loud.

Our fear is loud.

Our anger is loud.

Our shame is loud.

Mental illness is loud.

Doubt is loud. 

But there is another voice that is whispering in the background. 

A voice that hovered over the waters of creation.

A voice that led the Israelites out of slavery with a pillar of fire. 

A voice that promises not just to feed us, but to love us, to guide us, to give us rest.

When the Israelites found themselves in the middle of nowhere, utterly dependent upon God, it terrified them.

But that is precisely when God steps in and reminded them… I am enough. I will provide.

“At twilight you will eat meat.  And in the morning you will have your fill of bread.” (Ex. 16: 12)

This food comes without requiring any labor other than stepping outside of their tent and gathering it up.

The only strings attached were that they didn’t take more than they needed. 

If they did, it rotted and became infested with worms and stank.   

OOF…  Do you hear that… if we take more than we need it is just going to rot away. 

And then, here was the kicker. 

On the sixth day, they were told gather enough so that on the seventh they could rest. 

God provided. God was enough. 

You know, I got to thinking about that prayer that we say every single week in worship. 

We ask for God to give us our daily bread. 

Our manna from heaven. 

And if you look at the Greek work that Jesus uses here it is: epiousios, which we understand to mean that which is necessary and sufficient, that which gives substance to our lives. 

We are asking for God to teach us, shape us, remind us what truly is enough. 

As we remember this story of manna in the wilderness, it wasn’t just about food.

It was also about learning who they were, who we are, as people who are loved by God. 

It was about learning to obey God’s commands.

It was about learning to trust in God’s faithfulness.

It was about learning what it meant to share with one another.   

And it was about learning to rest on God’s Sabbath.

And we are called to remember that our fears and our anxiety and what Walter Bruggemann calls “the endless rat race for sufficiency” (Money and Possessions), are never going to bring us enough. 

We are called to remember God’s provision, God’s grace, and God’s faithfulness – not just with our minds, but to let these truths sink into our very bones and our daily existence so that we, too, will be shaped as God’s people. 

You know… maybe the Lord’s Prayer should be our daily practice.

Our daily gathering of manna from heaven.

Our daily reminder of who we are and whose we are. 

Because when we cry out, “give us this day our daily bread,”  we are not simply asking God to make sure there is food on my table tonight.

We are asking for God to provide for all who hunger. To make sure that everyone has enough.   

Those who hunger for rest.

Those who hunger for connection and relationship.

Those who hunger for liberation and freedom from oppression or addiction or worry. 

We here at Immanuel believe that God is calling us to love, serve, and pray so that all who hunger might be fed by God’s grace. 

We dream of a future where no one in our zip code goes to bed hungry at night.

We dream of a church where children and grandparents are growing together as they share meals and laughter. 

We dream of a community where every need is met because we have so many volunteers at Immanuel willing to give of their time and talents and resources.

And that means putting hands and feet on this prayer and rolling up our sleeves and getting to work. 

In our church money story, we can remember times we all rallied together to accomplish big things with God’s help – like when Faith Hall was built.

But with the uncertainty in the world today, stories of fear and scarcity and doubt start to creep in again. 

We can get focused on making sure there is enough to keep the lights on and lose sight of God’s promises and faithfulness and who God has called us to become. 

This fall, as our leaders wrestled with our goals for 2022, one step we knew we wanted to embrace was leading with mission.  We want to be a church known for how we are reaching out to love our neighbor. 

And so, we have a few goals related to that like focusing on a local 2022 Volunteers in Mission Trip, but we also discussed how we might have to adjust our own church money story to truly lead with mission. 

We want to get to a place where 100% of our budget is supported by annual pledges SO THAT everything else that comes into our church, all of the other money and gifts that we receive can be given away. 

We are trying to realign our own money story around what is enough so that we can turn around and bless our neighbors with everything else. 

That is just one way that we are going to become the church God is yearning for us to be.  A church where all who hunger are fed by God’s grace. 

It is just one way that we are going to remember that God is enough.  Amen.