The Promise of Love

 The Promise of Love

Luke 1:39-55[1]

Most of us know the elation we feel over the promise of love. When we meet someone we think might be a good partner for us, the hope and the dream of a loving relationship is one that can make our heart sing. It may even make us sing out loud! But at the same time, many of us know the heartbreak that happens when the promise of love isn’t fulfilled. Not every relationship works out, mainly because we’re all broken in some way. It’s painful when that happens. But more than that, when our hope for love is shattered, it may make it hard for us to trust in the promise of love at all. Whether it’s love from our family and friends, or even love from God, when our hearts are broken, it can leave us wondering if we can trust the promise of love at all.

As I’ve mentioned before, one of the main reasons why Jesus came was to demonstrate God’s love for us. His birth, the way he lived his life, and his death on the cross were all a magnificent demonstration of the biblical truth that God has loved us from before the foundation of the world, and that God will continue to love us through all the ages, forever and forever. I think we need to hear that, because many of us struggle with feeling that we are loved. Especially at this time of the year, we may feel unloved and empty. But we celebrate the birth of Jesus at this time of year as the birth of the one who came to fulfill the promise of God’s love, for us and for all people.

In our lesson from Luke’s Gospel for today, we hear the story of Mary and Elizabeth. Both of them were in vulnerable positions. Mary was a peasant girl from a small backwater town in the middle of nowhere. She had no wealth, no position, nothing to count on but God. Mary calls herself God’s “lowly servant girl” (Lk 1:48, NLT). I’m sure she knew what it was to feel “lowly” simply because of her status in life: she was a young woman in a world where women had no rights. She was one of the common people, with no power or position in Jewish society. Even at a young age, I have to think she may have wondered what the meaning of her life might be. She had good reason to be “confused” and even afraid when the angel Gabriel told her about the special task God had chosen her to carry out.

That task was the one of being chosen by God to give birth to the boy who would grow up to be the man who would fulfill God’s promise of love for her people, along with all the peoples of the world! But Mary’s pregnancy put her in a dangerous situation. She could have easily been suspected of doing something that the people of her village would have considered offensive enough to have her stoned to death! She also had to trust in God’s love to protect her as she took on this dangerous task. That’s what makes it so amazing that despite her fear and confusion, she had the faith in response to Gabriel’s assurance that “no word from God will ever fail,” to answer, “I am the Lord’s servant; May your word to me be fulfilled” (Lk 1:37-38, NIV). She trusted God to fulfill his promise of love.

So it is that Elizabeth blessed Mary because of her faith “that the Lord would do what he said” (Lk 1:45, NLT). Elizabeth had a much different position in Jewish society as the wife of the priest Zechariah. But as a woman who had passed the age of childbearing without having any children, she lived with a unique kind of vulnerability herself. Although it was unfair, the “blame” for not bearing children was heaped on the women of that day. More than that, she faced a very uncertain future without children to support her in her old age. And yet, there she was, filled with joy over her own child, and not only recognizing Mary’s great faith, but blessing her for it. I think at that moment Elizabeth’s affirmation was probably just what Mary needed!

Luke tells us that Mary burst into a song of praise to God. She praised God for being merciful “from generation to generation,” in other words, always and forever (Lk 1:50). She praised God for “lifting up the lowly” and “filling the hungry with good things” (Lk 1:52-53). She was not only thinking about the wonderful thing God was doing through her, but also the joy that had surprised Elizabeth. There they were, two women who were by all external measures incredibly vulnerable, celebrating the goodness and mercy that God had shown them both. They were celebrating God’s fulfillment of his promise of love.

But more than that, Mary had the faith and insight to recognize that what was happening through her was meant to benefit her people, and all the peoples of the world. She said that what was happening was a matter of God keeping the promise he made to Abraham. You may recall that promise: God would give to Abraham and Sarah so many descendants that they would become a great nation (Gen 12:2). He made that promise because of his love for Abraham and Sarah. But the purpose of his blessing to Abraham and Sarah was that “in you all the families of the earth will be blessed” (Gen 12:3). Just like Mary, God chose Abraham and Sarah to fulfill his promise of love for all people. And Mary’s song celebrated the faith that God was doing just as he promised in and through her.

I think our Gospel lesson is a good reminder that God delights in accomplishing his work even and especially when it seems like it may be impossible. That was Mary’s initial reaction: “how can this be?” And Gabriel’s response was “nothing is impossible for God”! It can be hard for us to wrap our head around the idea that God came into this world as a baby born of Mary. She was someone who had no rights, no power, no position or privilege. And choosing to say yes to God’s purpose for her life put her very life in danger. But God had chosen her to bear a son who would fulfill his promise of love for all people.

I think there’s a lesson in this story for all of us. We all face times in our lives when the task that is set before us may seem impossible. We may struggle to even trust that God loves us enough to see us through. We may feel vulnerable and afraid. But, like Mary, we can remember that through all of what we may experience in this life, both the “good” and the “not so good,” God is always working in and through our lives to fulfill his promise of love. God fulfills his promise through our willingness to say with Mary, “I am the Lord’s servant; May your word to me be fulfilled.” Saying that means we’re willing to trust God to do what may seem impossible to us. It means that we’re willing to take the risk of making ourselves vulnerable for God to fulfill his promise of love not only for us, but also for all the people in our lives, and for all the people of this world.

[1] © 2024 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm PhD on 12/22/2024 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

For the Sake of the Joy

For the Sake of the Joy

Luke 13:31-35[1]

One of the difficult aspects of following the schedule of Scripture readings for our worship is that they demand a great deal from us. That’s particularly the case for our readings from the Gospel of Luke this year. As I’ve mentioned, the “good news” in Luke’s Gospel has an “edge” to it. Part of that “edge” is that Jesus emphasizes repeatedly the “cost” of following him. Hearing week after week that discipleship is going to cost us can wear on us, and perhaps even feel discouraging. The more we hear the demand to take up our cross and follow Jesus, the more discouraged we may get about how well we follow him.

One of the reasons for this is because Jesus focuses his attention so consistently on the fact that his faithfulness to God was leading him to die on a cross. And Jesus used his journey to the cross as a model for us to follow. We hear in many ways that following him will require us to give up our lives. But we have to remember that the cross was not the end of Jesus’ journey. His path would lead him through death to resurrection, to his exaltation to the right hand of God, and to his return with power to complete God’s final victory. The author of Hebrews puts it this way: “for the sake of the joy that was set before him he endured the cross” (Heb 12:2). I think we can take a similar approach to the cost of following Jesus.

Our lesson for today may not seem like a good fit for finding this kind of encouragement. One factor in trying to understand this passage is placing it in the context of Luke’s Gospel. In this section of Luke, Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem, where he knows he is going to complete his mission by giving up his life. As Luke tells the story of Jesus’ journey, he takes the opportunity to report Jesus’ teachings about what it means to follow him. And he does so over the course of half of his Gospel—ten chapters! While Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem to fulfill his calling, Luke tells us that he was preparing his disciples for what it would mean for them to follow him.

I think we do well to pay special attention to the final verses in our lesson for today. This strange passage starts off with an even stranger event: Luke tells us that some Pharisees came to warn Jesus that Herod was trying to kill him! We might be thinking that if they were Pharisees, they were probably trying to kill Jesus as well. But it’s important for us to recognize that not all the “Pharisees” were against Jesus. The reason there was so much friction between Jesus and the Pharisees is because they had the most in common among the Jewish groups in that day. And the Gospels name two Pharisees who actually supported Jesus: Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus (Lk 23:50-53; Jn 19:38-42).

But our lesson gets “curiouser and curiouser,” to quote Alice in Wonderland. Jesus responds to the warning by saying, “Go and tell that jackal for me, ‘Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work” (Lk 13:32). To say the least, it’s a confusing way to reply to a warning about a death threat! I think, however, that what we’re meant to hear is the phrase “today and tomorrow, and on the third day.” This reminds us of the way in which Jesus predicted his own death. I would say that Jesus knew he was going to die, and it wouldn’t be at the hands of Herod!

And so in the next verse, Jesus continues, “today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside of Jerusalem” (Lk 13:33). It’s clear in this verse that Jesus knows he “must” go to Jerusalem to die. But again, we have this phrase, “today, tomorrow, and the next day.” I would say that this repeated emphasis of what Jesus would do over the course of three days points us to the fact that he would “finish” his work not only on the cross, but also on the “third day” when God raised him from the dead. Although he knew that he faced a brutal trial, he also knew that would not be the end for him, but that God’s power would prevail through him.

I think we see something similar at the end of our lesson, where Jesus says, “you will not see me until the time comes when you say, ‘Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord’” (Lk 13:35). Although those very words were the ones the crowds used to welcome him to Jerusalem, Jesus was looking past that. I think he was looking beyond his death and resurrection to his return with power to complete God’s final victory. It’s hard to imagine the faith and courage it took for Jesus to face his death with so much resolve. But I believe, as Hebrews tells us, that he did it “for the sake of the joy that was set before him.” In other words, he faced the ultimate test of his faithfulness to God by his faith in the victory God would win for all people through him.

I think we can approach our commitment to following Jesus in a similar way. We may have to face hardships. We may have to make sacrifices. As Jesus said we may have to give up our lives in order to truly find life. None of that’s easy. And the road can get long and weary as we continue to follow Jesus. But like Jesus, we can remain faithful by remembering that all the hardships we may face, all the sacrifices we may make, all that we may have to give up serves to bring God’s love to hurting people in our world. And so we can follow Jesus “for the sake of the joy” that is set before us, because we trust that God is working through us as well!

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[1] © 2022 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm Ph. D. on 3/13/2022 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

The Courage to Serve

The Courage to Serve

2 Timothy 1:1-14[1]

Life these days is not for the faint of heart. The challenges we face are of a nature that most of us couldn’t have imagined them even ten years ago. And the challenges that our children face are such that we cannot entirely understand them. The pace at which life continues to change can be frightening. It reminds me of a quote from The Lord of the Rings: “It’s a dangerous business … going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to.”[2] I suppose that’s always been true, but for some reason it feels more so today than ever.

This can be especially true of our Christian lives. We may not be used to thinking of living the Christian life as something challenging. Most of us were raised to believe that if we have faith, do the right things, and practice kindness, then we will be rewarded with a life in which the desires of our hearts are fulfilled. But the reality is that if we truly follow our crucified Savior we will face challenges that we may not be able or even want to imagine.[3] A life of following Jesus in discipleship will demand the best we have to offer.[4] It will require all the faith and love and courage that we can muster!

In our Scripture lesson for today, this theme is addressed in connection with Paul’s life. By his own testimony, Paul was climbing the ladder of success in his world. He was “advancing” in the world of Judaism beyond many of his contemporaries (cf. Gal. 1:14). He was on the “fast-track” to becoming a person of influence and power in his religion. But all that changed when he met Jesus Christ on the road to Damascus. After that earth-shaking encounter, Paul turned his life around completely. He says more than once that in that experience he felt the call to proclaim the gospel he had fought and to serve the church he had tried to destroy.

Because of his radical change, it’s understandable that he had to “suffer for the gospel,” as our text says (1 Tim. 1:8). It’s not hard to find references to support that claim. If you just read through the relevant chapters of the book of Acts you find quite a resume of suffering: hounded from one town to the next by enemies; imprisoned and publicly humiliated; attacked and left for dead; finally arrested by the Roman authorities and shipwrecked in the process of his journey to Rome for trial. I’d say it’s probably not the kind of life most of us would want to sign up for. I’m not sure Paul himself would have signed up for it if he had known in advance all that he would have to go through.

But Paul seemingly took it all in stride. In fact, it seems that he saw the hardships he endured as a part of his calling to proclaim the gospel and serve the church.[5] In fact, our lesson puts it this way: “For this gospel I was appointed a herald …, and for this reason I suffer as I do” (2 Tim. 1:11-12). What he had to suffer in his service to Christ was in his mind simply a part of his calling. And so he could also say, “I am not ashamed, for I know the one in whom I have put my trust” (2 Tim. 1:12). No matter what he had to face for the sake of his faith and his calling, he knew he could trust his Lord and Savior.[6]

At the same time, Paul knew that the work he was doing was not something he could accomplish in his strength alone. He knew that it was the power of the Spirit of God that enabled him to continue serving and facing his challenges. Our lesson describes that power by saying, “the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline” (2 Tim. 1:7, NIV). It’s not hard to imagine that kind of boldness when we think about the heroes of the faith, like Paul. But I’m not so sure we think of the Spirit’s presence in our own lives as something that is powerful. But that is precisely what the Scripture lesson clearly states: we have been given the gift of the Spirit that empowers us to serve Christ and his church in the same way that it has empowered faithful servants of God throughout the ages.[7]

The Bible clearly frames the Christian life as one of service. We are called to follow our Savior in a life of giving ourselves away for the sake of others.[8] At times that means setting aside our wants and even perhaps our needs to serve others. It means making sacrifices for the sake of the Body of Christ and the kingdom of God.[9] That kind of service can take its toll on us. We may not have to endure the same kinds of suffering Paul did. But the simple fact of it is that serving others diligently, week after week, month after month, and year after year, can be exhausting even for the best of us. It can leave us feeling empty, at times perhaps disheartened, and possibly even bitter.

That’s when we have to find the courage to keep serving. We can rely on the encouragement of our friends and fellow travelers on this journey of faith to help us. We can also continually rekindle our own inner resolve to make our lives count for the sake of Christ. But good news of our Scripture lesson today is that we are not left to our own strength alone to continue the demanding life of service. The Spirit is the one who gives us the power, the love, and the discipline to keep living the Christian life. Through thick and thin, the Spirit keeps giving us the courage to serve.

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[1] ©2016 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 10/2/2016 at Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

[2] J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, 2d edition (London: HarperCollins, 1997), 72.

[3] Cf. Jürgen Moltmann, Theology of Hope, 21: “Faith, wherever it develops into hope, causes not rest but unrest, not patience but impatience.  It does not calm the unquiet heart, but is itself this unquiet heart in man. Those who hope in Christ can no longer put up with reality as it is, but begin to suffer under it, to contradict it.”

[4] Cf. Luke Timothy Johnson, Learning Jesus, 201 “The imitation of Christ in his life of service and suffering … is not an optional version of the Christian identity.  It is the very essence of Christian identity.”

[5] Cf. James D. G. Dunn, “The First and Second Letters to Timothy and the Letter to Titus,” New Intepreters Bible XI:835: “That the gospel involves suffering is another characteristic theme of Paul (e.g., Rom 8:17-23; 2 Cor 4:7-18), as also is the conviction that such suffering can only be endured by God's enabling and that such weakness is the necessary complement to any experience of God's power (see 2 Cor 4:7; 12:9-10).”

[6] Cf. W. D. Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, 490: “Just as God can guard what Paul—and Timothy by implication—has deposited with God, so Timothy is to guard what God has deposited with him. And as Timothy is to hold to the pattern of Paul’s gospel, empowered by the divine gifts of faith and love, so also Timothy is to guard the gospel not with his human abilities but empowered by the Holy Spirit … who lives within him.”

[7] Cf. Jürgen Moltmann, The Church in the Power of the Spirit, 294: “The new people of God see themselves … as being ‘the creation of the Spirit,’ …. The Spirit calls them into life; the Spirit gives the community the authority for its mission; the Spirit makes its living power and the ministries that spring from them effective; the Spirit unites, orders and preserves it.”

[8] Referring to the Nicene Creed’s statement that the church is “one, holy, catholic, and apostolic,” Moltmann, Church in the Power, 360-61, argues that the church is “apostolic” to the extent that it participates in the mission of Christ and the Apostles, and that “inescapably” entails suffering. He says, “the church is apostolic when it takes up its cross.” See also Hendrikus Berkhof, Christian Faith, 424: “Words that do not cost anything and deeds that are meant to make us popular have nothing to do with the [apostolic] character of the people of God.”

[9] Cf. Karl Barth, Romans, 207-8: “Grace … is the indicative which carries with it a categorical imperative” that we should live our entire lives to fulfill the prayer, “thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven”

Risky Business

Risky Business

Esther 7:1-6[1]

Some of you, like me, may be fans of “The Lord of the Rings.” I’m not just talking about the movies—yes I have the extended versions and I’ve watched them a number of times. I’m talking about the books, which I’ve also read through more than once. You may not know that J. R. R. Tolkien wrote them as a Christian allegory, but one that was more subtle than that of his good friend C. S. Lewis. There is so much about these volumes that I love. One quote that comes to mind is from Bilbo Baggins, the hero of the Hobbit. He tells his nephew, Frodo, that “It's a dangerous business, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no telling where you might be swept off to.”[2] At the time, little did Frodo know where his own journey out the door would lead him.

Part of the point of this is that it is an analogy of the Christian faith. I think many of us would like the Christian faith to be like a refuge, a sanctuary to which we can flee to find safety in the midst of a world that can be frightening. But that’s not the nature of faith. If you read the Bible closely, you’ll find that time after time the leading characters who were great examples of faith found their journeys to be full of risk and danger.[3] In many cases, like Abraham and Sarah, people set out on the journey of faith never knowing where they might be “swept off to.” They discovered like many countless pilgrims, that taking the road of faith can be risky business.

I think the story of Esther is a perfect example of this lesson.  You may know Esther’s story better than I—she was a young and beautiful Jewish woman living in the Persian empire with her uncle Mordecai.  When the King was “in the market” for a new queen, Esther was one of the beautiful young women from all over the empire who “tried out” for the position of queen.  The king was vastly more delighted with Esther than any other young woman, and she became the new Queen. But one of the King’s advisers, named Haman, hated Mordecai and all the Jewish people.  So he convinced the king to sign a decree allowing Haman to execute all the Jewish people—because the King didn’t know Esther was Jewish! 

When Mordecai found out, he sent a message to Esther asking her to do something about it.  Now, what you have to understand is that Esther, queen or not, was subject to the whims of the king.  To approach the king without being summoned meant risking death.[4]  But Esther was a courageous woman of faith—like many before and after her, she was willing to risk what most people would never dream of risking!  And so she asked Mordecai to call a fast for three days, and after that she said “I will go to the king, though it is against the law; and if I perish, I perish” (Esther 4:16).[5]

That’s the way of faith according to the Scriptures.  Setting out on a journey without even knowing where you’re going, like Abraham and Sarah.  Or facing death in a furnace rather than compromising one’s commitment to God, like the three young men, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego.  Or exposing oneself to ridicule and humiliation to obey God’s command, like Mary did when she agreed to bear God’s son.  That’s what faith is about.  It’s not about knowing exactly how everything is going to turn out.  It’s about “hoping like mad in something” that may seem too good to be true.[6] And because our faith can at times call us to a path that is risky, we have to be willing take the leap of faith while “knowing that we do not know”—and in fact we cannot know—how it will wind up for us or where we might be “swept off to.”[7] 

For those of us who want faith to be something protective, something reassuring, something safe, this may seem troubling. There are many these days who look to Biblical faith to provide rational arguments and scriptural “proofs” that they suppose will to make them feel safe in a world that is more and more confusing.  They look for clear-cut codes and fixed dogmas to protect them from the tension of not knowing, of not being sure, of not having all the answers.  But, again that’s not the nature of biblical faith. If you read the Scriptures closely, you will find that faith is full of questions, uncertainty, and mystery![8]  It opens us up, making us vulnerable to the unpredictability of our world.  It challenges us take part in an amazing journey, a pilgrimage of faith that has always been about taking the kind of risk Esther took. And because this journey takes place right in the middle of the uncertainties and anxieties of our day and time, it is a journey that takes all the courage we can muster.

When I began my journey of faith 40 years ago, I certainly wasn’t looking for a life of uncertainty and risky business. I heard the offer of acceptance and God’s love and I knew that’s what I wanted. I could never imagine at the ripe age of 14 what that decision would mean. Nor could I possibly have any idea where the decision to serve as a minister at the age of 17 would lead me in life. I’ll say this: the journey has been anything but boring! But that’s the way it is for all of us. When we make the decision to take the path of faith in Jesus Christ, we are stepping out of our comfort zone and out the door into a life that is full of twists and turns, full of surprises, full of risks. It’s a path that many have walked before us, and their testimonies, both in Scripture and in the great books of the Christian faith, bear witness to us that the commitment to follow Jesus is indeed one that is risky business. But if we have the courage to step out on that road, it is a road that leads us to life.

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[1] ©2015 Alan Brehm. A sermon written by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm to be delivered on 9/27/2015 at Hickman Presbyterian Church. Due to illness, the sermon was not presented. Instead it is being published here.

[2] J. R. R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring, 72

[3] Cf. Karl Barth, Romans, 98-99, where he says, “Faith always involves “a leap into the darkness of the unknown.” Cf. also Karl Barth, Word of God and Word of Man, 76, where he says that faith impels us “out and on to the edge of all experience, thought, and action,” and compels us “to attempt to leap off into the air, where obviously no [one] can stand.”

[4] Cf. Sidnie White Crawford, “The Book Of Esther,” New Interpreters Bible III:904: “It is part of the irony of the book that the first queen, Vashti, is banished for refusing to appear before the king when summoned, while the second queen, Esther, is asked to risk death by appearing before the king unsummoned.”

[5] Cf. Sidnie White Crawford, “The Book of Esther,” NIB III:905: “Esther's position as a woman in a male court is analogous to that of the Jews in the Gentile world, with the possibility of danger ever present under the surface. Esther has no guarantee that she will be successful.” She observes (p. 906) that Esther’s situation presents us with “the dilemma of the average believer”: “How does one find the courage and faith to do what is right in the face of divine and human ambiguity?”

[6] Cf. John Caputo, On Religion, 2, where he says that “Religion is for … people who believe in something, who hope like mad in something, who love something with a love that surpasses understanding.” He says further (ibid, 31) that “the religious sense,” which I would see as something very similar to faith, awakens when “Something grander and larger than us comes along and bowls us over and dispossesses us . Something overpowers our powers, potencies, and possibilities, and exposes us to something impossible. Something makes a demand upon us and shakes us loose from the circle of self-love, drawing us out of ourselves and into the service of others and of something to come.”

[7] Cf. Caputo, On Religion, 19, where he distinguishes “not-knowing” from “ignorance” by saying that we know “that we do not know” and we know that “this non-knowing is the inescapable horizon in which we must act, with all due decisiveness, with all the urgency that life demands.”

[8] Cf. Caputo, On Religion, 128-29, where he insists that we cannot know ultimate things, and we are therefore left with “the passion of our non-knowing, our passion for God” and with “our love for God.” He continues (p. 129), “In my view, the very highest passion is driven by not-knowing … when all we can do is push on, have faith, keep going, love and trust the process about which we lack any final assurance.” Cf. similarly, Thomas Moore, Care of the Soul, 245-46, “The intellect often demands proof that it is on solid ground. The thought of the soul finds its grounding in a different way. It likes persuasion, subtle analysis, an inner logic, and elegance. It enjoys the kind of discussion that is never complete, … . It is content with uncertainty and wonder.”  He continues (p. 246), “Intellect tends to enshrine its truth, while soul hopes that insights will keep coming until some degree of wisdom is achieved.”