Tag Archives: easter

Pastor Thoughts, Theology & Culture

The inner call and outer call

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The season of Easter was understood by the Early Church as one long day of celebration. Seven weeks of focusing on the good news of resurrection. 

The Gospel readings appointed for the season of Easter often tell the stories of resurrection appearances for the first three weeks. But in the second half of the season, the readings and focus of Easter turn toward what this new community of followers of Jesus will need to become. 

In this fifth week of Easter, we hear a Gospel lesson where Jesus encourages his disciples to love one another. In fact, Jesus commands it in a reading that should be familiar from Maundy Thursday. 

The commandment has one meaning given to the disciples about to witness the events of Good Friday.  It has another meaning given to the disciples and followers of Jesus, sorting out how to be this new community called the Body of Christ. 

To a post-resurrection community, the New Commandment from Jesus becomes an important lens to understanding our baptismal calling⎯our vocation as Christians. 

It is often the case that when we, as 21st-Century people of faith, talk about “call” or “vocation”, we conjure up modern imagery of following our passion or inner call. We imagine that inner drive or intrinsic passion to live out our dreams, to find that place where our personal passions can be pursued in the world. 

You might be surprised to discover that Martin Luther was highly suspicious of the notion of inner call. The idea of inner call was one that had been around since the Fourth Century and was very popular among monks. However, Luther felt that monasticism was trying to pull itself and the practice of faith away from the world. In Luther’s mind, the Gospel was for the sake of community, the Gospel reconciled us with God in order that we could love our neighbour. 

Thus, our baptismal call or vocation does not come from within us, but rather from our neighbour. Through our neighbours, the Holy Spirit calls us to service for the sake of our neighbours’ needs. The teacher is called to teach because the neighbour needs to learn. The farmer is called to grow food so the neighbour can eat. The carpenter is called to build so that the neighbour has shelter, etc. We are called to work to meet the needs of our neighbours, and this is the basis for our vocation or call. 

As the post-resurrection Easter community tries to determine what comes next, we hear the New Commandment from Jesus to love one another. Our calling, our vocation, comes from this commandment. Loving our neighbour, meeting our neighbours’ needs, becomes the place where our faith meets the world, where the Gospel’s community-building activity is lived out. The Holy Spirit calls us to take the Gospel into the world by loving our neighbour as Christ has first loved us. 

Doctor of Ministry, Pastor Thoughts, Theology & Culture

A Pastor Like Luther

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The Fourth Sunday in the season of Easter is the middle Sunday. It is usually called “Good Shepherd Sunday” because we hear a lot of shepherd-related readings on this Sunday. They serve as a means to turn us from the immediate stories of resurrection that we have been hearing for three Sundays to the next question that the church has to answer: What comes next?

Often, Good Shepherd Sunday is used as an opportunity for pastors (from the word ‘pastoral’ related to the word ‘shepherd’) to tell our stories of call. 

My own story is fairly undramatic. No lightning storms like Martin Luther, no voices from heaven or burning bushes. Simply a lot of time spent in and among church folk who gently and subtly encouraged me to explore the calling that was clearly bouncing around my heart and mind at a young age. 

Now, as I come up to my 16th anniversary of ordination, I realize that being called isn’t so much a one-time event like the legendary lightning storm where Luther promised to become a monk, or the literal calling of Jesus to his disciples. Rather, being called is something that happens over and over again. We heard this last Sunday when Peter and the other disciples, after being given the Holy Spirit by Jesus in the upper room, decided to go back to being fishermen. They needed to be called again!

Our calling begins in baptism, and we are called into ministry over and over by the Holy Spirit. Some of us are called to a ministry that extends out into the world from our secular work and vocations. Some are called to be set apart, to attend to the baptized and called community. These ones held back in the church are pastors – our focus is on feeding and equipping the baptized. 

A year ago, on May 7th, 2024, I found myself standing in St. Mary’s town church in Wittenberg. When you first walk in, the narthex serves as a gift shop and admission desk. It is a little dark, and the ceiling is low, as you are underneath the balcony. Past that, you step into the sanctuary with its distinct green pews, high late-gothic pillars and ceiling. The Lucas Cranach Altar piece stands out in the chancel. 

St. Mary’s is where Martin Luther served as the pastor. I will admit that prior to about a month before that moment, I hadn’t really imagined that being a pastor was a significant part of Luther’s life. I had always imagined him primarily as a professor and debater, writing and speaking out against the abuses of the church. But in preparation for travelling to Wittenberg, I researched some of Luther’s most important sermons and was starting to see how influential his pastoral ministry was to his writing and speaking. 

It was in the context of congregational community and life where I began to feel the call to ordained ministry. Being active and included in all the things that our congregation had going on: Sunday school, children’s choir, confirmation, youth, youth orchestra, praise band, college and careers, serving on council when I was 18, career shadowing my pastor in grade nine, regular potlucks, Christmas pageants, family Bible studies, curling bonspiels, church picnics and campouts, adult studies, ushering, reading lessons, serving communion, etc. 

Being a part of a church was different than any other community that I was a part of. Not quite family, not quite friends and peers, not like a school or workplace, not like a neighbourhood. Church was like church, and I could sense a call to serve that unique community. 

It wasn’t until I was standing in St. Mary’s Church, thinking of Luther preaching his sermons on how to be a community that goes about changing and reforming, that I could see this was probably where his sense of call came from too. After 40 years of being a Lutheran and fifteen years of ordained ministry, I felt connected to Luther in a new way that I did not expect. I could see how, in all the things that he wrote about reforming the Church, he was looking through the lens of his ministry to the people of St. Mary’s and Wittenberg. His call came from the same place as mine, from the Holy Spirit through the congregation he served. A call repeated and reaffirmed regularly by being a part of the life of congregations and faith communities, where he could see the lives of his people sharing in their joys and sorrows. Luther’s community was often the motivation behind his calls for reform. He wanted to create a world where the people he served and cared for could hear the Good News of God’s forgiveness, life and salvation given for them. Luther wasn’t an academic tucked away in an ivory tower (or the Wartburg Castle!) thinking abstractly, but a pastor seeking the best for the people entrusted to his care. 

This is a Luther I can identify with: A Shepherd called to tend to his sheep and live his life in community. 

Pastor Thoughts, Theology & Culture

The In-Between of Easter Still to Come

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Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, and Good Friday are behind us, yet Easter morning is still to come. This in-between moment is one where two realities exist at the same time. Christ has died and Christ has risen, but neither is fully here. 

While uncomfortable, this is the place where we live as the Church, as people of faith. We are always in-between realities. We are always becoming and on our way to something new. 

As we approach the Easter morning scene, the Resurrection moment, we are like the women who are the first on their way to the tomb. Everything they know, everything they have witnessed, every possibility they can imagine tells them that what they are about to find is going to be one sure thing⎯death. 

They had no concept of what was possible with God, of what they were actually on their way to see and witness. Their minds and hearts could not fathom it. 

Easter is like that. Our crucified and risen God is like that. Everything we see and understand around us says that one thing is true, when a totally different thing is about to happen. 

Resurrection and New Life are always surprising and unexpected. God has a way of surprising us with empty tombs and new realities that change everything. Easter has a way of showing up when there is no way we could have predicted it. 

That’s why we proclaim and emphasize the mystery part of the mystery of faith⎯Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again.

Pastor Thoughts, Theology & Culture

Finally Some New Easter Life – Pastor Thoughts

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At this time of year, one of the things that I usually find myself on the lookout for are the first signs of the greening that happens in springtime; the brown grass and leafless trees begin to sprout new life. In the past few days, I have really noticed the grass turning green, the trees and plants beginning to show little buds and blossoms of life. Living in our new neighbourhood we are seeing all the things happen for the first time. We moved in one day after the first snowfall in November, so we barely saw our green yard. Now it is kind of like little daily surprises to see which plants are budding each day. 

But it isn’t just the plants and trees and grass. The whole neighbourhood seems to be coming alive. After being cloistered in our homes all winter, people are coming out into the streets, sidewalks and parks. Most evenings there are kids riding bikes or playing street hockey, families out for walks and playground adventures, schoolmates to be found at newly explored parks, soccer and baseball teams practicing at local fields. The Harte walking trail is so busy there could almost be traffic lights required. 

It is a wonder to watch the whole world seemingly come to life out of the winter depths. I know the same resurrection is happening all over the city, probably all over the prairies. 

I don’t know about you, but I have noticed it too at church. Maybe not as dramatic the transformation of our outdoor world, but this winter and spring there has been noticeable new life growing in our midst. There are a few more folks in the pews most Sundays; we now even sit on both sides of the sanctuary, instead of clumping all together on one side. Our online views have remained strong (often in the hundreds!) and yet there are just a few more folks consistently at church. Not to mention the life found in our Lenten study, our music groups picking up a great deal of our musical leadership, and the cautious optimism that we shared in our town hall. 

Of course, soon summer holidays, campground reservations and weekends at the lake will be calling out to us… but I suspect that we are taking a step into a new kind of stability (I won’t say “normal” just yet). Sure there is still COVID-19, inflation, war, Artificial Intelligence (like ChatGPT) taking jobs, forest fires, climate change and so many more things to worry about. 

But maybe, just maybe, in our fourth Easter since going into those pandemic lockdowns, we are actually experiencing a shift towards more tangible and visible signs of communal resurrection around us. I think that might be part of what it going on. 

As we come to the end of the Easter Season for this year, I have a feeling that the resurrection vibes and the feeling of being an Easter community might carry on.

Of course, after a couple years of pouring ourselves into coming out of the pandemic tomb and into new life, it is only after we begin to accept and come to terms with who and what we are now as a community of faith that God begins something new with us again. 

Whether we like it or not, I think this may be what it looks like to be an Easter People – a little bit messy but with new life appearing in surprising ways. 

Christ is Risen Indeed!

covid-19, Sermon, Theology & Culture

Walking to Emmaus and re-learning the story faith

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GOSPEL: Luke 24:13-35
Now on that same day [when Jesus had appeared to Mary Magdalene,] two [disciples] were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, 14and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. 15While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with them, 16but their eyes were kept from recognizing him. 17And he said to them, “What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?” They stood still, looking sad….

Everything about the Easter Sunday story suggests that it should wrap up the story of Holy Week. All the way back from when we shift from Christmas and Epiphany telling the story of Jesus’ birth, to the Baptism of Our Lord Sunday on which Jesus is set on the path of his ministry of the Kingdom. From that moment on as we journey through Lent, the climax of Good Friday is in the background. Lent is not a 40 day long Good Friday, but there is a narrative arc that we recognize. Like an epic movie everything along the way serves to hurdle us to the big confrontation moment on Golgatha beneath the cross of Jesus. 

The empty tomb should be like the hero emerging from the wreckage, the moment of celebration that brings the story to a close. 

Except it isn’t. 

The Easter morning stories are full of confusion and uncertainty and more questions than answers. The resurrect Christ doesn’t spawn a “hero escapes death so don’t ask too many questions just be happy” moment, but instead a whole new wrinkle to a story that supposed to be wrapping up. 

And here we are on the 2nd Sunday of Easter still unpacking just what on earth is going on. 

It seems that the story of Jesus is less like an epic movie and more like a serialized TV season that ends on a cliffhanger, and today we starting season 2. 

We pick up the story right after Peter has gone to verify the unbelievable story of the women last week. Two disciples are on their way to Emmaus, a town near to Jerusalem. 

On the way, these two are met by another traveller. This travelling companion incredibly seems to know nothing about what has just happened over the past week in Jerusalem. Yet when the disciples recount the story from trial and crucifixion to the morning reports of the empty tomb from the unreliable women.

To which the unknown travelling companion proceeds to explain to them how the events of holy week fit into the Scriptures. And still these two disciples don’t recognize that the one travelling with them is Jesus. 

It seems a bit absurd that these two wouldn’t be to recognize their teacher and master. Was Jesus wearing a disguise? Were they blinded by their grief? Did God close their eyes to seeing?

I think there might be another explanation, one that relates to us and this moment in time. 

2000 years on from the first Easter we are stilling figuring out how this story unfolds and works together, let alone those first disciples who had just lived through it. Stories are how we understand this world. Stories and narrative help us construct meaning. Stories are the vehicles for us to make sense of things. It is why we go back a rehearse in our mind the events of an experience that we cannot make sense of, it is why we rely on eye witness testimony so heavily, it is why we are enraptured by good movies, books, tv shows, songs, artwork or a good story teller. 

So these two disciples on the road to Emmaus didn’t recognize Jesus because they didn’t understand the story of Holy Week yet, they couldn’t see Jesus because they didn’t know or understand the story of how he could be walking with them. 

Throughout our journey we too are sorting out just what all we have lived through means for us. As pandemic waves rise and recede with different degrees and risk to our health…

As War in Ukraine and elsewhere stretches out into a longer and more horrific than we every imagined reality…

As we navigate global, national and local uncertainty from the price of milk to the dangers of gas ranges to ongoing and persistent weather and climate crisis… 

As we ponder and wonder and worry about the future of our local communities here, even here at Sherwood Park…

We too do not know the ending of our story. We don’t know how to piece it all together yet and there is no precedent, no version that we have heard before that will provide the guidance we so desperately want. 

And so seeing Jesus among us is just as difficult. Even as he walks with us along our paths we may be just as oblivious as those two disciples. 

Just as Easter wasn’t the end of the story but the next season or next chapter, our story is nowhere near ending…but instead how it will all shake remains to be seen and lived. 

So when Jesus join his disciples on their walk down the road to Emmaus, they have more questions than answers. But rather than just coming out with who he is, Jesus takes the disciples back to the beginning, back to the stories they do know. The stories of God’s people. To the scriptures, the stories of faith. Stories told to children from the moment they are born. Stories told in homes and in the synagogue, stories that help to mark the passage of the days and the years, stories that gave frames of meaning, symbols, images and metaphors that helped them to understand their lives and their world. 

And just as the prophets foretold the coming of Messiah, just as John the Baptist preached out the wilderness, just as Jesus himself preached in the towns and countryside while doing miracles, Jesus begins with the stories they know already. And then Jesus interprets the stories in light of the promised Messiah. 

Yet, still the disciples don’t recognize Jesus. 

So finally when they reach Emmaus, Jesus takes the disciples back to Maundy Thursday. To the breaking and blessing of bread, where Jesus had been revealed to his disciples anew in the ancient familiar meal of faith – the passover meal.  

And all of sudden, these two disciples have a story to tell. They have seen this moment before. They have seen this One breaking the bread before. They know this stranger, they recognize the Christ. The Christ who has come to give them a new story of faith to tell. A story that begins at the Last Supper, that descends to arrest, trial and crucifixion and seemingly ends on cross. But now a story that continues on the Third Day with empty tombs, appearances behind locked doors, and revelations in the breaking of bread. 

Jesus has tied all the events of the last week to their familiar stories of faith, and Jesus has given these disciples a new story to tell, a story that makes sense and meaning of crucifixion, death, resurrection and new life. Jesus brings together the ancient stories of faith to the story of the crucified and risen Messiah.

The story of faith that we have been telling for 2000 years since: Christ has died, Christ is Risen, Christ will come again. 

The story that Jesus is taking us back to in this moment, even in the midst of our crisis, our inability to make sense of things and to understand this moment. 

The story of faith that is grafted onto our bones from the moment we are born and then reborn in baptism. The story that is told in homes and at church. The story that helps us mark the passage of days and years. The story that gives us the frames of meaning, symbols, images, and metaphors that help us understand our world. 

And Jesus reminds us that this story of faith has room for us and our recent string of uncertainty and struggle. We might not have been here before, but the Christ who meets us on this journey has. 

Jesus walks along side us in our confusion and uncertainty, reminding us that our familiar stories of faith still have room for our unknown stories of our present. And Jesus promises to see us through, to see us all the way to the new reality that awaits us in this new world of ours. Jesus promises that even this world of frequent tumult and regular uncertainty is nothing new or out of the ordinary for God.

And from here, Jesus takes us back to our beginnings, to the familiar story of breaking bread that we know so well. And in this moment, in this story Jesus is present and known to us, even when we don’t fully understand what is happening and where we are going. 

And so as we search for our story to tell, for the story that will tell us how to live in this new upside down world, Jesus reminds that there is a story that we already know. It begins with the breaking of bread, and continues through suffering and death, but surprises us again and again with an empty tomb, new life and a risen Christ.