January 15, 2023. Today we celebrate the baptism of Jesus. We remember Peter’s claim that God shows no partiality, and in her sermon Pastor Meagan reminds us to listen for God’s voice calling us, and all people, beloved. Readings: Isaiah 42:1-9, Acts 10:34-43, Matthew 3:13-17 *** Transcript *** After telling us about John’s ministry, which John saw as preparing the way for Jesus, in today’s passage Jesus himself comes back on the scene, as we heard in our gospel. He's a grown man about 30 years old, and he's ready to enter into public ministry. And the first thing that Jesus, the Son of God, does is join the crowds of people who present themselves to John for baptism. John has made it clear to his followers that he is not the Messiah, and that the one to come — Jesus — is so much more powerful than John that John is not fit to untie his sandal straps. And yet Jesus comes to John to be baptized. And by doing this Jesus is placing himself in the midst of all the other people coming to John to offer and commit their lives to God. Jesus is demonstrating his humanity, and his need to be in intentional relationship with God, who he called Father at the age of 12. And then, as Jesus is praying to God his Father after being baptized, God shows up in a concrete way. The Holy Spirit descends in the form of a dove, a visual sign of God’s presence and blessing. And the voice of God is heard calling Jesus his beloved son. And just like that, Jesus goes from one of the crowd, to being called out as beloved child of God! Jesus’ baptism is significant because of what it reveals to us about Jesus’ identity as human and divine. We read this today and know that not only does Jesus call God Father, but God claims Jesus as beloved son. This event also reminds us who we are, and when we hear it, we're called to remember that we too are God’s beloved children. In Isaiah today, God calls God’s people by name, takes them by the hand, and claims them as their own. We are God’s own. And God promises that even when we are walking through fire, and flood water, God is with us and will never forsake us. We are each called by name, and God claims each one of us as his own. And, there’s more. In Isaiah, and in Matthew’s telling of Jesus’ baptism, the promise is not only to each of us as individuals, but to all of us, as God's people. God claims us as people of God. Jesus is one of hundreds, thousands perhaps, coming before God to be baptized. And Isaiah tells us God will bring together all of God's people, from every corner of the earth. The promise of God knows no limits, no boundaries or borders, no nation or race or language, from here to the ends of the earth. Today we heard about Christianity in Africa from Marc Horn in Adult Forum. There is no limits, boundaries, or borders, from here to the ends of the earth, for God's love. The Apostles Peter and John understand this. When they hear that the Samaritans — people seen as second class, outsiders, foreigners — have been baptized, they immediately go to them as leaders of the fledgling church to welcome them and affirm their place as children of God. And the Samaritans too receive the Holy Spirit. We remember our baptisms today, and as we do, we remember who we are as children of God. This is not something we earn. It is a gift of God freely given to us in grace. The Israelites were far from perfect — they knew they had made mistakes and failed God as a people, and they knew they needed his forgiveness and mercy. All of those coming to John likewise knew that they had sinned and needed God’s forgiveness and blessing in their lives. And as Luther tells us, we are both sinner and saint, and God claims us as God’s own with no conditions or requirements or exceptions. Celebrating the baptism of Jesus, remembering Peter’s claim that God shows no partiality, hearing the echoes of Isaiah’s words to the Israelites, reminds us to listen for God’s voice calling us, and all people, beloved. We are reminded that not only can we not earn our place as God’s child, but because of God’s grace, we don’t have to earn it. When we're tempted to try to decide who is worthy and who is not, whether we're worthy or we're not, who is in and who is out, whether we're in or we're out, we should hear these words and be reminded. We are invited and challenged to claim the promise of God for ourselves, and for our community at Christ Lutheran, and for our neighboring churches on Lockwood and the ELCA congregations within our conference, and for the church in Africa, and all countries around the world, all peoples, from one end of the earth to the other. We're called to remember that we are not beloved because we are baptized, but we baptize because we are beloved. We're not part of God’s family because we're baptized, but we baptize because we are part of God’s family. And when we come together at the font, at the table, God is with us, calling us by name, calling us beloved. Thanks be to God. *** Keywords *** 2023, Christ Lutheran Church, Webster Groves, sermon, podcast, transcript, Pastor Meagan McLaughlin, Isaiah 42:1-9, Acts 10:34-43, Matthew 3:13-17

November 27, 2022. This Advent we reflect on expectations. The people of God were waiting for something that looked like swords to bring the justice they craved to the world, but Isaiah told them that God promised swords turned into plowshares. And today we expect, or at least wish, that God would come with practical, physical power and right the wrongs of the world. But even Jesus doesn’t know the day or the hour when the kin-dom of God will come to pass, and we don’t know what it might look like. Readings: Isaiah 2:1-5, Matthew 24:36-44 *** Transcript *** Advent is a season of waiting, hoping, and expecting. This Advent, we join our Conference in reflecting on expectations — Great Expectations. When you hear the word “expectations” what comes to mind? I asked some friends and colleagues what they thought, and I got a lot of different perspectives as you might imagine. One person said they define expectations as “waiting for something with preconceived ideas of when or how or what it should be — either good or bad.” Some of you may have heard the phrase, “Expectations are premeditated resentments,” a common saying in twelve-step groups, which warns against having unrealistic expectations of others that will inevitably fail. And it’s even more problematic if you don’t let the other person know what your expectations of them are. One of my friends changed this to say that expectations are “resentments under construction,” which makes me imagine each expectation stacked, like bricks one on top of another, creating a wall of full-blown resentment that will likely require much more time to take down than it did to build. One friend shared the worry that she’ll be judged and not able to meet the expectations others have of her. And it’s not just other people’s expectations. The pressure of the expectations we place on ourselves can bind and crush us under a weight of disappointment and shame. And one person, when asked about expectations, simply replied, “Disaster,” while another said that in their experience expectations lead to misery and suffering. That's not what we want! Having no expectations, they feel, means having no attachments to what will or should happen — and they find it freeing. One of my friends said that in defense against all of these challenges, they try to keep their expectations low sometimes, and they often end up pleasantly surprised. So let’s face it: things don't always happen when and how we want them to happen. And we don’t always achieve what we want to achieve. And this time of year can be really fertile ground for expectations that, as my friend suggested, can lead to disaster — or at least a whole lot of pressure and stress. Perfect cookies, and other baked goods. (I failed this test already when I burned half the Chex Mix I made this week.) Beautiful decorations on a full, even, pine tree. (Not sure how that’s going to work out this year since we have a rambunctious kitten who is just a year old. She hasn’t seen a tree yet.) Peaceful, joy-filled, family gatherings with no conflict or stress. (This is especially hard when our whole society has become so divided, on issues that have a deep impact on dignity, health, and wellbeing.) And of course, a picture-perfect meal all made from scratch. (Has anyone else worked hard for this, and then had the flu, or COVID, strike your household on the morning of the big event?) The people of God knew something of expectations. And they were tired. They were waiting for something that looked like swords to bring the justice they craved to the world. But as we hear in our scripture today, Isaiah told them that God promised swords turned into plowshares. The disciples following Jesus were expecting swords and military victory too — a worldly king who would overthrow the Romans. We too, I think, often expect, or at least wish, that God would come with practical physical power and right the wrongs of the world. Feed those who are hungry, so that no one need ever go without. End senseless hatred and violence, like that waged against the LGBTQ community this week at Club Q in Colorado Springs, as they gathered in one of the few places they feel safe to be themselves. Resolve the political tension and violence that seems to have infected the whole country, corrupting religion as an excuse to legislate oppression against so many who are vulnerable. Things don't always happen the way we think they should, or expect they will. Our old church year has ended, and the new church year is beginning with Advent today. And as we join congregations in our Conference in reflecting on Great Expectations, now seems to be the perfect time to trade one set of expectations for another. Expectations that are informed and transformed by grace, which can lead us out of the pressure and shame we hold over ourselves, and others. And lead us into hope for a world that desperately needs it. In the midst of a world that we know is broken, Mary, in the Magnificat which we will sing together each Wednesday evening in Holden evening prayer, claims the promise of a world that hasn’t yet come. The dictionary defines “expectation” as a strong belief that something will happen in the future, a belief that someone will achieve something, leaning into a promise or hope that hasn’t yet happened. This is something that scriptures talk about often, and it shows up in all of our scriptures today. Our Advent journey of Great Expectations begins. As we enter into this season of waiting, watching, wondering, this first Sunday of Advent we light the candle of hope on our Advent wreath. Isaiah describes for us God’s vision of hope for the world. The people, lifted up. An end to war, weapons turned into tools that we can use to care for and share the abundance God has created. All of us together, walking with God, as God’s people. In Matthew, Jesus tells us that even though it hasn’t happened yet, it will happen. Another friend defined “expectation” as a kind of resilience, where attitude and effort collide. In a world where we still witness violence, injustice, brokenness, we live and breathe and serve in hope for the promises of God that we know will come, claiming with our very bodies that it will come, when we least expect it. Many of us this morning engaged in an act of hope and resilience this morning, as we packed food for those who are hungry. It's a choice we make, as people of faith, as followers of Jesus. We as God’s beloved trade in the expectations that bring stress, resentment, and disappointment, and choose to watch, and wait, and notice the signs of Jesus alive in our midst, right here and now. To take small actions, in each moment, that bring the promises of God to life for those around us. This season, we are invited into a deeper awareness of the hope, peace, joy, and love that flows out of expecting Jesus, Emmanuel, God with us. Even Jesus, we hear in Matthew, doesn’t know the day or the hour when the kin-dom of God will come to pass, and we don’t know what it might look like — it will likely be far beyond our expectations when it does. We gather today, knowing all the members of our Conference, and Christians around the world, are joined with us in hope. We're invited in this season to wake up, to pay attention, and make the choice as to what expectations we will hold as we journey together this season. Today we center our hearts, and lean into grace-filled, hopeful expectations, to claim God’s presence with us. Together, each time we gather, we remind ourselves and one another that we are beloved, and God’s love never fails, so we can trust in God’s promise with hopeful expectation. Thanks be to God. *** Keywords *** 2022, Christ Lutheran Church, Webster Groves, sermon, podcast, transcript, Pastor Meagan McLaughlin, Isaiah 2:1-5, Matthew 24:36-44, COVID-19, coronavirus, pandemic

November 6, 2022. We who grieve on this All Saints' Day, who feel overwhelmed by the beasts and brokenness of this world, can rest in the promise of resurrection. Readings: Daniel 7:1-3, 15-18, Ephesians 1:11-23 *** Transcript *** Two years ago my family gathered, in an outdoor space to be safe in COVID despite late fall weather in Minnesota, to lay my Aunt Kate to rest. We raged at the disease that had so tragically taken her body, and her mind, and eventually her life. We celebrated her life, claimed hope in the resurrection, and at the same time, we grieved her loss, and wondered together why it had to be this way, and what to do with her gone from our day-to-day lives. In those moments of grief, claiming the resurrection can feel a bit like watching a garden bed of dry earth and brown remnants of perennials in the early spring, hoping against hope that new life will come, eventually, but not quite believing that it will be possible. Those who have had this experience have perhaps also taken comfort in knowing that Jesus grieved too, weeping at the death of his friend Lazarus. The Ephesians, and many of the other communities that Paul was writing to in his letters, certainly knew death. The Ephesians may not have known Jesus personally, but his life and death impacted them profoundly. They believed in the promise of Jesus’ resurrection from the dead. And we know from Paul’s letters that they expected Jesus to come back, in their lifetimes, to fulfill the mission and promises that he made while he lived and taught and healed. But his return had been delayed. In many of Paul’s letters, he is addressing people who are still trying to figure out what Jesus’ promise of life means when they haven’t seen it yet. When people around them, faithful, good people, are still dying. When their own lives are threatened by the Roman soldiers. When resurrection doesn't seem to be happening from anything they are experiencing. Today we celebrate All Saints' Day together, as a community, many of us in the sanctuary, and some on Zoom. And it is so good to be together, to celebrate the communion of saints, to remember those who have died. We take time this morning to acknowledge the reality of loss and grief, and in the face of that reality we claim, in this time, in this place, the promise of the resurrection that we profess every week in the Apostle’s Creed. We wait together, as the Ephesians did, in the space between the now, and the not yet. Like the Ephesians, and all peoples who have come before us, we know death. We know the brokenness of this world that comes in so many forms, the powers that Daniel describes as the beasts. Injustices, illness, violence, abuse, and the internal beasts, too — anger, resentment, anxiety, self-judgement... and the reality of death and grief that can overwhelm all of us. All the beasts of this world that can hold onto us, weighing us down, creating the illusion that their power is absolute. And we know, as we hear the stories, that God is bigger than all of that. God, Daniel proclaims, overcomes the beasts. The kingdom of God, Daniel’s vision reveals, will not be overcome, no matter what beasts may threaten it. We come together because we can’t do this alone. Even Daniel needed the encouragement and clarity of a witness to help him understand the hope of his vision. None of the brokenness and pain of this world surprises God, and God can handle all of it. And The Holy Ones of God — not the perfect or the pious, but all of God’s beloved, all of us, and all of those who have gone before us and all of us who are called God’s children — will possess that kingdom forever. And the promise we know in Christ, the promise of our baptisms, is that God can even overcome death. Death will not have the final word. God shows up and breathes in life, just when we least expect it. Debie Thomas, in her blog Journey with Jesus, writes, “Resurrection means living in circumstances that should render living impossible. Resurrection means enduring, overcoming, persisting, and surviving.” Just like new growth always, finally, emerges from garden beds that look as if they will never live again, resurrection often happens when we have no hope left. We who grieve today, who feel overwhelmed by the beasts and brokenness of this world, can rest in the promise of resurrection. We come together as people of faith, because the promise is for all of us children of God, and just like Daniel, we can see that better as a community. We remember with gratitude our communion of saints, those who have died whose lives touched us in profound ways. And with our saints, we claim the promise of Jesus’ resurrection, and we watch in hope for new life, even when it seems slow in coming. Paul reminds us that we, and all of those who have gone before us, are beloved children of God, sealed by the Holy Spirit. And we receive his blessing today: “I pray that you may have wisdom in the Holy Spirit, that you may know the hope that you have.” Family of Christ Lutheran, as we in a moment name and remember our beloveds who have died, our hope is in Jesus. And because of that, resurrection is real, even and especially in the face of death. Thanks be to God. *** Keywords *** 2022, Christ Lutheran Church, Webster Groves, sermon, podcast, transcript, Pastor Meagan McLaughlin, COVID-19, coronavirus, pandemic, All Saints' Day, Ephesians 1:11-23, Daniel 7:1-3, 15-18, Debie Thomas, Journey with Jesus

October 23, 2022. As we reflect on our gospel text from Luke today, and the varying practices of Confession we each grew up with, we are invited to think about what it means for us as Christians and why Martin Luther saw it as an inherent part of the Good News that he wanted to proclaim. Readings: Jeremiah 14:7-10, 19-22, Luke 18:9-14 *** Transcript *** A family member of mine tells a story from her childhood about the way her congregation, and many churches in some denominations at the time, practiced Confession. Everyone went to the pastor every week, and they were expected to share not only what they had done wrong, but how many times they had done it. Confession was required in order to receive Communion, and a proper Confession was believed to be essential in order to get into heaven. One week, she couldn’t think of anything to say, so she made it up. She confessed that she had stolen the neighbor boy’s purse 13 times. I think it would have been pretty appropriate if she had added on that she'd lied to the priest once! Confession, in other ways of practicing it, presents a little more like beating one’s breast, as the tax collector did in our gospel today, which can be misunderstood to mean that we need to beat ourselves up, constantly calling ourselves out, focusing on our wrongs to the point of humiliation. Yet, it is said that confession is good for the soul, and we hear this message clearly from Jesus in the Gospel of Luke today, as he tells his listeners that the tax collector, beating his breast and asking for God’s mercy, came away justified — brought into right relationship and wholeness by God — while the Jewish leader, who lifted himself up in comparison, did not. And Martin Luther, many centuries later, although he was highly critical of a practice that required a complete counted list of every sin, wrote “An Exhortation to Confession,” in which he said, “When I urge you to go to Confession, I am doing nothing else than urging you to be a Christian.” As we reflect on our gospel text today, and the varying practices of Confession we each grew up with, we are invited to think about what Confession means for us as Christians, why Jesus said the tax collector was made whole when he acknowledged his sinfulness, and why Luther, following Christ, saw Confession as an inherent part of the Good News that he wanted to proclaim. In “An Exhortation to Confession,” Luther laid out the reasons why he encouraged people to engage in Confession, saying that, “If I have brought you to the point of being a Christian, I have thereby also brought you to Confession. For those who really desire to be true Christians, to be rid of their sins, and to have a cheerful conscience already possess the true hunger and thirst.” Confession allows us know the forgiveness of God, frees us from the weight of guilt of harm we may have caused, and opens us to receive what we really hunger and thirst for: the mercy and love of God, which is the gospel that we know in Jesus. Luther says that if Christians understood that, we would run after it! Our gospel text today starts out by saying that Jesus is telling this parable to those who trust in themselves, and regard others with contempt, which can go a long ways toward understanding what Jesus is calling us to. Because we humans at times all trust in ourselves, and strive to make sure we’re doing better than those around us. Today, the person who lives a moral life, attending church and steering clear of sin, thanks God that they are not like those who steal, or use drugs, or sin in easily identifiable ways — just like the Pharisee in our gospel today. Tomorrow, it may be the one who makes an earnest confession and strives to seek justice in the world, thanking God that they are not like those who they see as contributing to injustice. We all at times trust in ourselves, and fall into the pattern of seeing ourselves as better than others. We all need Jesus’ invitation to come before God, seeking mercy and forgiveness. And every week, we come together as a community of faith, we enter into the gospel promise. We hear the good news, that we are all created and beloved of God, marked by the cross of Christ, and sealed with the gift of the Holy Spirit, not because of who we are and what we do, or how we confess, but because of who God is. We are all, as Luther says, sinner and saint. We all need God. We are called to show up as we are, to be honest about the brokenness we have experienced at the hands of others, the brokenness of the world and in our lives that we've participated in, the grief, addiction, woundedness, the abuse we may have experienced, and know that God in Christ embraces all of us in all of that. We join in worship and community each week and are reminded of our place in relationship with God and creation — not in humiliation, but in humility, knowing our beloved humanness, that we need one another, and that all of us sin, and we all need God. We don’t do this perfectly, beloveds. As Jeremiah says, our iniquities, our sin and our brokenness, overcomes us all at times, and at times we all harm one another and our community, and we hope in God, who is always faithful to us. Each week, we come together before God in Confession and Forgiveness, acknowledging our sin and trusting God, who knows and loves us as we are, to forgive and guide us as we continue to grow together. We pray together the prayer Jesus taught us, which Luther points out invites us to confession in two ways: as we pray for forgiveness from God, and for help in forgiving those around us. In humility, and not humiliation, each week we are gathered in just as we are, we name our human weakness, and we remind ourselves and one another of the promise of God who calls us beloved, just as we are, and is always faithful even as we stumble. Confession is core to the gospel we celebrate, and it is good for the soul. Thanks be to God. *** Keywords *** 2022, Christ Lutheran Church, Webster Groves, sermon, podcast, transcript, Pastor Meagan McLaughlin, Jeremiah 14:7-10, 19-22, Psalm 84:1-7, 2 Timothy 4:6-8, 16-18, Luke 18:9-14, Martin Luther, An Exhortation to Confession