January 2, 2022. In today's sermon, written by Pastor Meagan and read by Mark Roock, we hear about how God knows every detail of our backstories, and delights in each one of us. Readings: Ephesians 1:3-14, John 1:1-18 *** Transcript *** This sermon was prepared by Pastor Meagan, so I want you to imagine that you're receiving it as a letter. So I would begin with: dear friends. Greetings to you from God our Father, and our Lord Jesus Christ, and the gift of the Holy Spirit. When I graduated from college and moved back home, it didn’t take long before I joined the church choir at my childhood church. After all, I had always loved singing, and had been in one choir or another since I was in third grade. A fellow choir member, Barbara Lynch, had been part of that church since before I was born, and she began to tell me stories of things she remembered from when I was a kid, running around the halls of Our Lady of Grace Church and School. One of the stories she told me had been shared with her by my grade school music teacher, George Carthage. On his last day with us before retirement, Mr. Carthage asked what we wanted to sing, and we chose our favorite, The Holy City. Although I hadn’t thought about it in years, I instantly remembered the day — and the song — she was talking about. “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, lift up your gates and sing, hosanna, in the highest, hosanna to your king!” Over, and over, and over we sang it, until we were tired of it — which I imagine probably took us much longer than it took Mr. Carthage. As I recalled it, I realized that that day was one among many that fed my love of singing over the years. A few years after Mrs. Lynch reminded me of that day with Mr. Carthage, one of my cousins had a child who was the first baby in the family in many years, and my Aunt Kate said to all of us, “You see how excited we all are about this baby, how everyone wants to hold and love and talk to him? I want you to know that we did that exact same thing with every one of you. We love you all that way!” I had taken it for granted, up until then, the profound gift of having people in your life who know your backstory. People who can remind you of events and experiences that you had forgotten, who in some ways know you better than you know yourself. How important it is to have, or have had, people who knew you and looked on you with love, even before you were born. Each Christmas, we tell the story of Emmanuel, God with us in the flesh, remembering that God came to us in Jesus into the middle of human history to reveal the radical unfailing love God has for us. And today, on this second Sunday of Christmas, in the Gospel of John, we hear those ethereal words that remind us that Jesus, the Word, was present and moving in the world long before that night in Bethlehem some 2,000 years ago. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God . . . . All things came into being through him.” We don’t often think about it, but this is so profound, isn’t it? Christ was there, in and with and through God, from the very beginning of time. There isn’t a single thing that has happened since creation that Jesus was not intimately a part of. All life came into being through Christ, who then came to us in Jesus. He was formed in Mary’s womb, and she labored and gave birth to him in a stable in the tiny little town of Bethlehem. In Jesus, we know that there is nothing that has ever happened in our world or our lives that God does not know and care passionately about. Mrs. Lynch, among others, was able to share a slice of my childhood with me, but God knows our entire backstories, and us, better than we or anyone else ever will. Jesus came to show us that, just as my parents, aunts, and uncles poured love over each and every one of us in turn, so God delights in each and every one of us. Think about that for a moment. God delights in you! The story of God coming in Jesus is a story of a love so abundant that it surrounds and fills all of creation. Remember the Ghost of Christmas Present from A Christmas Carol? He brings Mr. Scrooge to all corners of the earth: a ship deployed on the ocean, a remote lighthouse, suburban streets, a deep mine, and a hospital. If we were to follow the Spirit today, we might find ourselves with people fleeing violence, poverty, and death in a refugee camp on our southern border; visiting people sick with COVID in a remote African village or in India’s Maharashtra; or with those who are unhoused on the streets of St. Louis. The Spirit would likely bring us to those in prison in our own city. When the ghost and Scrooge arrive at Bob Cratchit’s home in a poor, forgotten neighborhood, Scrooge asks why they are there, and the ghost replies, “It’s Christmas here too, you know!” God came in Jesus to an unmarried young woman in a stable in a tiny little town to show us that they are present everywhere, perhaps especially the most forgotten places. No one is invisible to Christ, who intimately knows and sees and loves all people, and all of creation. There is no one God does not see and delight in. This is the gift and the call of Christmas. God knows every detail of our backstories, and delights in each one of us, and every one of us. And we are created us to embody that love in the world the way Jesus did, to see and love the forgotten ones, wherever they may be. God delights in you! What greater gift could there be to share? Amen. So writes our pastor, Meagan McLaughlin, and we too say amen. *** Keywords *** 2022, Christ Lutheran Church, Webster Groves, sermon, podcast, transcript, YouTube, video, Pastor Meagan McLaughlin, Mark Roock, Ephesians 1:3-14, John 1:1-18, A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens, COVID-19, coronavirus

December 24, 2021. On this Christmas Eve, Pastor Meagan's message is on how Jesus in all his humanity comes to us, so that we might begin to let God love us when loving ourselves feels impossible. Readings: Luke 2:1-20 *** Transcript *** All Advent, we have been waiting and watching for Christmas to come. We've been listening to the messages of hope that have come to us through so many voices this season, letting us know of God’s promises to all people and all creation. And now, Christmas Eve has finally arrived, and we celebrate one more time the coming of God into the world in Jesus. Throughout all of humanity’s story, our story, as revealed in our scriptures, we hear over and over how we've been in relationship with God. God has come to us and spoken with us, made promises to us, and we've made promises to God. And over and over, humanity has fallen short. We have not loved and trusted the God who formed and loves us so well, we've not shown each other God’s love the way God created us to do. And we humans haven’t always lived up to God’s call for us, and we've revealed ourselves to be, as Luther says, not fully saint, not perfect, but both saint and sinner. There are those moments in scripture — like Noah and the ark, and the Israelites in the desert, and Lot and his family — where it seems God has given up on us. And at the last minute, always, something or someone changes God’s mind, convinces God to give us another chance. Often, we might think of Jesus’s coming as God’s final, last-ditch effort to save humanity, redeeming that which sometimes seems irredeemable... somehow emphasizing the brokenness of our humanity as compared with the divinity of God. This evening, as we come together to celebrate the coming of God in Christ, recognize the dawn of hope into our world in Jesus, there is another message that we can see in this most important story of our faith, and humanity’s place among God’s beloved creation. There are so many ways God could have come to us. Look at all the ways God showed up before this. A voice in a burning bush. A whisper in wind. Angels, over and over. A pillar of fire, and cloud. In the psalms, God moves mountains and shakes the earth. I could go on. And certainly the God who has come to us in so many ways could have come to us like this again, showing up in a way that illustrates a distinction between God and humans. But God didn’t do that when they came in Jesus. Of all the ways that God could have chosen to come into our world and reveal the love they have for us, in Jesus they chose to become one of us. A human being, flesh and blood. God embodied all of the love, mercy, and joy they have for creation and for us in this tiny little human baby. The most amazing thing about Christ’s coming is that it shows us that God has not given up on us, after all. The promises of God are not beyond us. In Christ, God has shown us that human beings, along with the earth and sky and trees and water and the fellow creatures with whom we live on this planet, are God’s beloved creation so much so that God chose to become human to reveal God's self to us. God has not given up on us. God came to us in Jesus, and because of that, we know God’s love for us endures no matter how much we might stumble. We know that, in all of our struggles, joys, pains, hopes, grief, and love, we have never been alone, and never will be. In Christ, God understands our human experience, claims us as part of God's beloved creation, and walks alongside us every step we take. Human and divine are not so separate as we might think. God is intimately connected to all of creation, and because Jesus came to us, we know that includes us humans, too. And just in case we might think that God came for some and not for all, look at our gospel today tells a different story. As so often happens, when it came time to let people know that Jesus was born, the angels first brought the joyous news to the shepherds, not the emperor. It was those caring for their sheep in the fields, unseen by most, uncounted by the emperor’s census, who were among the first to hear the incredible news of just how much God loves us. Jesus came to embody God’s love for all of us human creatures. And in the birth, life, and death and resurrection of Christ, we know that we are called to do the same. We can’t love and serve perfectly on our own — we are saint and sinner after all — but we followers of Christ are called to be transformed by the Spirit, to let God love others through us when we can’t do it ourselves. Jesus, in all his humanity, comes to us in this moment, so that we might begin to let God love us when loving ourselves feels impossible. Fellow beloved human children of God, this is the promise of Jesus. Just when we feel the most alone, the most unworthy, the most irredeemable, just when the world around us seems to have crossed over that tipping point and is as hopeless as the world before the flood, God breaks in. Right into the beauty and the brokenness, God shows up in Jesus to make sure we know the truth, and everything changes as we enter into this promise. Hope dawns. God’s love persists. God hasn’t given up with us yet, and never will. And that is truly good news. Thanks be to God. *** Keywords *** 2021, Christ Lutheran Church, Webster Groves, sermon, podcast, transcript, YouTube, video, Pastor Meagan McLaughlin, Luke 2:1-20

November 21, 2021. As Thanksgiving is upon us, guest preacher Rachel Helton asks us to be thankful for all the blessings in our lives, and open to receiving the things that we need, and generous with our possessions, our bread, our time, our commitment to justice, our willingness to extend mercy and compassion, and our desire to be Christ in the world to one another, in order to experience the fullness of the reign of God. Reading: John 18:33-37 *** Transcript *** Won't you pray with me? Holy God, may the words that I speak and the ponderings of our hearts be full of grace and be pleasing to you. Amen. Some of you may know that I’m currently interning as a chaplain at Cardinal Glennon Children’s Hospital. And this week is Heritage Week for all of the SSM hospitals and ministries, where we are encouraged to remember and reflect upon the legacy and mission of the Sisters of St. Mary. A group of five German nuns, led by Sister Odilia, arrived in St. Louis in 1872 with the mission of revealing the healing presence of God through service to the physical, spiritual, and emotional needs of others. So Thursday morning as I entered the hospital I was greeted with a loaf of bread. And I thought that's interesting, but I'll take it. And it was accompanied with this card, which I will read to you: The Legend of the Loaf of Bread: One day a man came to the convent door asking for food. The sister in charge of the kitchen went to Mother Odilia for help. So picture this, back in the 1870s, this man is coming, asking for help. There was but one loaf of bread in the house. Was she to refuse the appeal of the man, or deprive the sisters? Without hesitation, Mother Odilia said, “Give the man what he asks, sister. The Lord will provide for us.” Only half-convinced, the sister obeyed and gave away the loaf of bread. Some hours later, a child was sent by her mother to deliver a pan of freshly baked rolls to the sisters. When the child arrived at the convent she was greeted with, “The Lord has come. You are the Lord today, little one!” Greatly surprised, the child was told the meaning of the spontaneous exclamation. And so is the legend of the loaf of bread. This Sunday we come to the close of our church year and we find ourselves at a crux between the season after Pentecost and the season of Advent. In that space between the seasons of celebrating the work of the Spirit in the world and the season of expectation for Emanuel, God with us, and we find ourselves at Christ the King Sunday, pondering what it means to call Jesus “king” and what it means to participate in the kingdom or the reign of God. Our gospel reading for today takes us not to Jesus transfigured and shining in glory or Jesus ascending into the clouds, but to Jesus on trial before Pilate. On Christ the King Sunday, we take a good hard look at what it means to have a king who is on trial, a king who will be mocked and crucified. And those around him are mocked too, for putting their hope in something beyond the Roman Empire. When Pilate asks Jesus the first time, “Are you the king of the Jews?” Jesus answered, “My kingdom is not from this world.” It’s almost as if Jesus is saying, “We’re not even talking about the same thing here.” Last week, we heard about the disciples and Jesus who were both looking at the temple, but seeing different things. And the destruction of the temple was the revealing, or the uncovering, of the truth about God’s presence and God's love. So too, the kingdom of God is completely unrecognizable to Pilate’s understanding of kingship as power and privilege. It's the dismantling of earthly kingdoms and hierarchies that uncovers the full experience of the kingdom of God. Jesus, who cannot be defined and confined by time and space, represents a kingdom that cannot be defined by these measures either. When Jesus says, “My kingdom is not from this world,” he is not saying that he doesn’t belong here or that his kingdom is somewhere off in the clouds or out in the future. Rather, he is completely redefining the whole idea of kingship. This kingdom, which is both now and not yet, is witnessed in the sharing of a loaf of bread now, and in the not yet reality that there are still those who are hungry. Jesus is saying that unlike earthly kingdoms which find their security in the power they are able to hold over others, the kingdom of God is grounded in the promise of hope and peace and justice and belonging, promises that are rooted in relationship with a God who was, and is, and is to come, the alpha and omega, the all-encompassing, the ever-present. And we are invited into that relationship, we are invited to participate in the work of the kingdom right now, not out of obligation or subjugation, not because we are forced to by a dictator king, but because it is through reliance on one another, and ultimately reliance on God, that we experience God’s reign and have hope for the full restoration of creation. When Jesus is asked a second time by Pilate, “So you are a king?” Jesus answered, “You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth.” Earlier in the Gospel of John, chapter 14, Jesus says, “I am the way, the life, and the truth.” And in John 8, “You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” Being in relationship with Christ brings us into relationship with the truth; we belong to the truth — the truth that we are beloved and set free to do justice, to love kindness, to share our bread, knowing that God has already provided enough for all, if only we are willing to share it. Jesus in his full humanity invites us to embrace our full humanity as we bear witness to the truth of the kingdom where all are fed, where all get what they need rather than what they deserve, where all are welcome, where peace and justice are established, and where love is always the final word. In closing, I want to share with you the words of a hymn from the new “All Creation Sings” hymnal. It's hymn 1062 and the tune is a French carol that you might recognize from “Now the Green Blade Riseth.” I won't sing but I'll hum it at least so you can think of how this would sound. People are nodding. They're recognizing that tune. So the words really speak to me about the vision of God’s kingdom. 1. Build a longer table, not a higher wall, feeding those who hunger, making room for all. Feasting together, stranger turns to friend, Christ breaks walls to pieces; false divisions end. 2. Build a safer refuge, not a larger jail; where the weak find shelter, mercy will not fail. For any place where justice is denied, Christ will breach the jail wall, freeing all inside. 3. Build a broader doorway, not a longer fence. Love protects all people, sparing no expense. When we embrace compassion more than fear, Christ tears down our fences: all are welcome here. 4. When we lived as exiles, refugees abroad, Christ became our doorway to the reign of God. So must our tables welcome those who roam. None can be excluded; all must find a home. As Thanksgiving is upon us, I hope that we can be thankful for all the blessings in our lives, and open to receiving the things that we need, and generous with our possessions, our bread, our time, our commitment to justice, our willingness to extend mercy and compassion, and our desire to be Christ in the world to one another, in order to experience the fullness of the reign of God. Thanks be to God. *** Keywords *** 2021, Christ Lutheran Church, Webster Groves, sermon, podcast, transcript, YouTube, video, Rachel Helton, John 18:33-37, Build a Longer Table, David Bjorlin, ACS supplement

November 7, 2021. On this All Saints Day, in this sacred space, grief and hope intertwine as we acknowledge death and new life together in this community. Readings: Isaiah 25:6-9, Revelation 21:1-6a, John 11:32-44 *** Transcript *** Death and grief is something that we often don’t want to talk about. At times, in fact, we will go to lengths to avoid talking about it. But on All Saint’s Day, we come together intentionally to remember those who have gone before us. We name the losses we have experienced, especially remembering those who have died whose lives have impacted our own. Today is a day for remembering those we have lost, and celebrating again the promises of our baptisms — the radical love of God who formed us in the womb, forgives our sins, and gives us life that endures beyond death. And so, we opened worship today by blessing water with the word of God — the waters of baptism with which we celebrate and recognize these promises. Our readings today tell us that we don’t need to be afraid to acknowledge the realities of death that are an integral part of our human existence. Isaiah tells the people who are facing the grief and pain of exile and death that, in the midst of the very real tears, God is present, and God will wipe away the tears and remove the shrouds. Revelation speaks of the new heaven and earth that are promised — on the other side of death. And in our gospel from John, Jesus has the courage to face the harsh realities of death. He arrives at the house of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus to find that Lazarus has been dead for four days. Jesus goes to the place where Lazarus was buried, in a cave sealed with a stone. John tells us that Jesus was greatly disturbed and moved, and Jesus weeps, sharing the grief that is felt by Lazarus’ sisters and the rest who loved him. And then, he asks to have the stone rolled away from the tomb. The others protest, saying that the body will smell horribly, now that he has been dead for four days. But Jesus is not afraid to face even the most unpleasant and final details of death. Even the stench of death does not deter him, John tells us. Today, we face the mortality of our human existence. We remember those we love who have died. We acknowledge our grief and our loss. We celebrate the love and joy of the time we shared with those we loved who have died. And we claim once again the promises of God that were celebrated on the days of their baptisms, and trust that Isaiah, and Revelation, and the Gospel of John in their claims are true: death will never be the final word. We remember the enduring promises of God for each and every one of those who have died, especially those we will name today. And then we will turn, as all the prophets and Jesus did, to new life. We will wait on God, who wipes away tears and removes shrouds. We wait on God, who will make all things new. We stand at the tomb with Jesus as Lazarus wakes from death and comes out, alive once more. We join with the community around Lazarus, as Jesus invites us to remove the shrouds binding his arms and legs. We experience with all of our senses the truth that death will never be the final word. Our life on this earth is finite and our bodies will pass away, but in Christ this is not the end of the story. God does not abandon God’s people. Though death will come, God’s promises of life will always prevail. Life will always prevail, and new life is coming. It is so appropriate that on this All Saint’s Day, we celebrate again the promises of God with the baptism of Jack Jordan. One more time, the water and the Word of God come together as we witness the grace of God’s love and forgiveness for each and every one of us, and especially today for Jack. This morning, in this sacred space, grief and hope intertwine, as we acknowledge death and new life together in this community. God is present, and always has been, from the beginning of time, from the first breath of our lives to the last, to the end of time when all will be transformed and made new. The promises of our baptisms hold true, even to death. Thanks be to God. *** Keywords *** 2021, Christ Lutheran Church, Webster Groves, sermon, podcast, transcript, YouTube, video, Pastor Meagan McLaughlin, Isaiah 25:6-9, Psalm 24, Revelation 21:1-6a, John 11:32-44, Jackson Jordan, baptism

October 24, 2021. Jon Heerboth preaches today on Jesus healing the blind man in Mark 10, the Greek word "sozo," and how we can be tempted to try and find our place in the story. Reading: Mark 10:46-52 *** Transcript *** "Come bring your burdens to God. Come bring your burdens to God. Come bring your burdens to God, for Jesus will never say no." That's a little hymn from the new "All Creation Sings" worship supplement that we've been looking at a little bit around here. It's from South Africa. As the earth spins on its axis every Sunday, people all around the world are reading the gospel lesson, getting together to worship and praise God, and ask God for healing and for faith to survive. It's nice to know that we join in with people all over the world as our time comes on Sunday mornings. It makes us feel like we are part of a much larger enterprise than just Christ Lutheran Church. It's fun to think about that. These words again from the gospel reading: then Jesus said to him, "What do you want me to do for you?" The blind man said to him, "Rabbouni, my teacher, let me see again." Jesus said to him, "Go, your faith has made you well." Immediately the blind man regained his sight and followed him on the way. I enjoy watching movies. I wouldn't call myself a movie buff or an expert on film by a long shot, but I can get wrapped up in a movie that has a message or an ambiguous ending. It doesn't have to be a "happily ever after" ending. But in one sense, the stories in the Bible, at least a lot of them, are like movies. Some of them have complete endings. Others of them do not. Time and time again, we read of people being healed by Jesus, never to come on these same people again. Bartimaeus, in our gospel lesson today, was a person like that. He's a good example of what I'm talking about here. Jesus healed his blindness, and Bartimaeus followed Jesus on the way. That's all we know — nothing more about a new life for him or what he did to serve his healer or his Lord after that. But maybe that's good. Sometimes happy ending stories can be more troublesome than open-ended ones, because they just don't seem real. That's because you and I know too many people in the community of faith, perhaps even here at Christ Lutheran Church, for whom happiness and living a whole and good life do not represent the end of their stories. The happy ending is elusive. I wonder if happy endings can sometimes make us forget that we need to rely solely upon the grace of God, or that we in the church, in this place, are really living out our lives on this side of the ultimate happy ending — in other words, eternal life in heaven. Perhaps we will see that more clearly as we take a closer look at this story of Jesus healing Bartimaeus. It's hard to miss the place of today's gospel in the timeline of Jesus' life. Between Mark's recounting of the first time Jesus healed a blind man in Bethsaida in chapter 8, and this story at the end of chapter 10, Jesus predicted his suffering and death three times; Peter confessed that Jesus is Lord; Peter, James, and John went to the mountaintop and saw Jesus transfigured; and then Jesus explained to the rich man — a man the text said Jesus loved — how he might obtain eternal life by selling all he had, giving it to the poor, and coming to follow Jesus. When the rich man heard the cost of being a follower of Jesus, he walked sadly away. Throughout Mark's gospel, Jesus is always looking for followers. But after he explained the potential cost of discipleship, even his own disciples asked how it was possible for anyone to be saved. Jesus explained that for mortals, it is impossible — but not for God. With God, nothing is impossible. So this story is sandwiched between Jesus' third passion prediction and the start of Jesus' entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday. The story of blind Bartimaeus actually stands on its own here. So Bartimaeus sits along the side of the way leading from Jericho to Jerusalem. It's about an eight-hour walk through pretty rough country, from well below sea level to well above it. As he gets wind of the fact that Jesus is about to pass by, Bartimaeus cries out, "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me." Bartimaeus seems to know who Jesus is, in a way that the others do not. The crowd tried to hush him, and the disciples ignored him or pretended they didn't even hear him. He was just a wayside blind beggar of no importance. And I'll bet there were many such people along the way. He continued to cry out, "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me." And what does Jesus do? He stands still. The blind man's need and his call for help cause Jesus to stop in his tracks. Only at Jesus' command did his disciples tell the man to come and stand before Jesus. And as Mark tells it, his response was really energetic: he tossed off his cloak, probably jumped up, and almost ran to Jesus. Jesus asked Bartimaeus then, "What do you want me to do for you?" And Bartimaeus said, "Rabbi, teacher, let me see again." And Jesus said, "Go, your faith has made you well." And immediately the man recovered his sight and followed Jesus. Did you catch the irony? Look at the contrast between the way the disciples treated Jesus as opposed to this blind man. It's clear that Jesus had had a serious communication problem with James and John. They had asked him for special treatment. They could see Jesus only in terms of the value of their culture. They were blind in a spiritual sense — every bit as Bartimaeus was blind, physically. Again, the irony of it all? Jesus is preparing to enter Jerusalem to begin his passion and death as he continues to walk down the road. He's accompanied by a blind man who sees the way of Jesus even though they had never met before. And his seeing disciples, who were with Jesus day after day, they could not see Jesus for what he was. They were blind to everything but their own need. The same was true with the rich man. When Jesus told him he had to sell all of his land, all he had, give the money to the poor and follow him, the man was shocked, and left grieving. When I was about 11, we got a hand-me-down TV from a neighbor. I will tell you that was a big day. It barely worked, but we thought it was wonderful. And I certainly watched my share. After church and Sunday dinner, I would want to watch TV. But there was nothing on other than TV preachers and faith healers, so I watched them. Many of us probably remember those guys. They put on a pretty good show for the times. One central tenet of their spiel was that the person who needed healing had to have faith. No faith, no healing. Naturally, everyone professed faith sufficient to move mountains, and the healing, the so-called healing, proceeded for better or for worse. Do you remember those guys? They'd come up, couldn't hear too well. The guy would box the ears. Another guy would shove him in the forehead. Down they'd go, presumably healed after they took the casts off after all that. But it was quite a show, very entertaining. And I know that those guys were financially very successful, if that's what you're looking for. But it always left me wondering whether people who were blind or people with other disabilities simply lacked the faith necessary for healing. In today's lesson, Jesus told Bartimaeus that his faith had made him well. But I think we can give that philosophy a resounding no. I think that that "making him well" is an unfortunate translation of what happened to Bartimaeus. In Greek, the word is "sozo." I printed and put it here for your edification: sozo. Bartimaeus was sozoed by Jesus. That word can mean "heal" all right, but it also means "saved." When Jesus was talking about how hard it is for a rich person to enter the kingdom, the disciples asked: then who can be saved? Sozoed was the word they used. In Mark chapter 13, he who endured till the end will be saved, sozoed. In Mark 16 the one who believes and is baptized will be saved. Sozoed. Here Jesus called Bartimaeus and told him that his faith had saved him, sozoed him. Jesus saved Bartimaeus because he recognized Bartimaeus' faith, and Jesus called him. Jesus also saw his physical need and had compassion on him. He saw the uniqueness in Bartimaeus that required a special act of grace, and he gave him that grace. By his death and resurrection, Jesus does the same for us. Bartimaeus did not regain sight because of some amount of faith that he showed or anything that he did. The healing, like his and our salvation, was purely a gift of God. It's tempting to try to find our place in this story. Here we could easily imagine ourselves in the crowd around Jesus, annoyed by the needs of some of the people in our communities. I'm even tempted to suggest that we sit next to Bartimaeus and cry out for healing ourselves. Or maybe it would be better for us to sit with the gospel writer Mark and get involved in the ongoing struggle of trying with the disciples to fully understand the teaching of Jesus and the heartbreaking experience of watching his walk to the cross. Maybe that would be good. Maybe it would help us understand how we at times see others and their needs without truly seeing them as valued parts of God's creation. In other words, we allow our own concerns about ourselves to blind us to one another's needs. This miracle starts with a social outcast sitting alongside the way, and ends with a new disciple following Jesus on the way to the cross. When Jesus looked for followers, he never looked around to find the most upstanding and presentable people to tell others about him. That should be a comfort to us all. Mark includes Gentiles, Pharisees, tax collectors, sinners and now Bartimaeus, because disabilities marginalize people, too. Believe it or not, there's a happy ending to this gospel story. A blind beggar is called. He's made a model of faith and he's given sight. And then he became a follower. That's also what happens to us. God's action of love in Christ's death and resurrection calls us to faith, sozos us here at the font, gives us sight, and makes us his disciples. This new vision gives us the capacity to see others and their needs. Freed from concern about eternity, we can live out our vocations to care for all of God's creation and all of God's creatures, so that all may find Christ in their lives too. Meeting our Lord, as did Bartimaeus, changes our limited vision, opens our eyes, and starts us off following in Jesus' way. So, who among us can truly see? Who among us needs a miracle? And who among us is able to pray appropriately for that miracle to take place? Those of us still living on this side of the happily ever after follow Jesus on his and not our way. In our hymn today, we will pray for health for ourselves and our friends. We will also sing that we understand that it is sin and the brokenness of the world that is at the root of all of our collective pain. And we pray that the spiritual oneness of our Christian community will spread from us here at Christ Lutheran Church, to reach all of humankind. In the name of the father, and of the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen. *** Keywords *** 2021, Christ Lutheran Church, Webster Groves, sermon, podcast, transcript, YouTube, video, Jon Heerboth, Mark 10:46-52, sozo