Sermon for Lent IV, March 18 2012

We spoke of "death" last week. It's time to talk about darkness.

When you were a child, were you ever afraid of the dark? Did you imagine all sorts of scary things living in the dark of your closet or under your bed?

When I was a youth, my bedroom was in the basement and the laundry room next door had a dark, dank space behind the water heater and under the stairs. I was convinced that the Boogie Man lived there. I did have a night-light and that gave me a bit of reassurance. But I also knew that if the Boogie Man did come after me, I wouldn't be able to get past him and up those stairs.

Then, at some point, I outgrew my fear of the dark--well, at least to that degree anyway.

Parents have probably had the experience of a child calling you out of a deep sleep because there’s a "monster" lurking in the shadows. Anyone relate to that?

Most adults no longer fear the dark. But listening to our readings from Numbers and John today, maybe we shouldn’t be so quick to put that fear of the dark behind us. Certainly, we no longer imagine monsters hiding under the stairs, but as adults, maybe we ought to look at darkness in an adult way.

In our first reading, the Israelites in the desert actually did have a sort of real-life monster to contend with: poisonous snakes! These people were suddenly set upon by snakes that bit them, and in fact, many of them died. We hear that this happened because the Israelites were grumbling against not just Moses, but God. Big mistake!

Do you remember the TV commercial--"It's not nice to fool Mother Nature!"? Well, you also don't insult God.

But we can’t really blame them – they were wandering in the desert, hungry, hot, thirsty. They may have been desperate. They may have feared a death of another kind before the snakes came upon them. Of course, we know that God heard their cry – like a child waking a parent out of fear – and God had Moses set up the bronze serpent on a pole and those who would look on it would live.

Our passage from Numbers talks about a real fear of bodily harm – a fear of death in a natural way. Yet, underneath that natural fear was the darkness brought on them by cursing God. It was their sin of not believing that God would keep the promise of bringing them to a land of milk and honey.

This is such a typical Old Testament story. Offend God, God gets angry; God forgives; people learn a lesson.

Why is it that we grow to adulthood and suddenly begin ignoring the true darkness of sin? This is what Jesus is talking about in the gospel of John.

In the story of the bronze snakes on a pole, did you recognize that that is the symbol for doctors? That symbol is called a caduceus (a great Scrabble word--caduceus).

Then in the New Testament gospel story, Jesus tells us that what was a symbol of saving then, is now himself. He is lifted up (on a cross) and will bring eternal life to anyone who looks at him and believes.

It's our God of contradictions again. God did not send Jesus into the world like the snakes to kill the people. God sent Jesus into the world to show how much God loves us.

Snakes on a pole--not a symbol of more death, but of life.
Jesus on a cross--not a symbol of more death, but of life!

Jesus then goes on to bring out the importance of understanding light and dark as adults.

There is something very frightening about living in the dark, especially if it is an interior darkness – living with despair or hate. Jesus says that evil hates the light. I'd have to say that I might be inclined to sit back and smugly say that, "I'm not evil. I don't hate the light." Just because we, ourselves, might not live in darkness, we can’t just ignore that darkness.

We are all sinners. We all have a place where our darkness hides so others might not see it.

It comes in many forms. I'll just mention three. It might take the form of discrimination. Just this past week, it pained my heart to hear some parishioners use two of the most dreadful words in the English language: "those people."

Or, we might have family members that we no longer bother with. It might be their fault(!), but have we given reconciliation one more try?

How do we feel about ourselves? It seems to me that the greatest source of darkness in our lives is self-manufactured. Darkness could be our self-loathing for whatever reason.

Our scripture readings tell us that God does not want that of us! Each of us is a child of God and in God’s sight, you are glorious!!


For most of my teen and early adult years, I suffered from a terrible lack of self-esteem. I somehow believed that if anything good happened to me, that it was a fluke; maybe God wasn't paying attention.

Then I came across a Bible-based book titled "Who Told You were Naked?" and in that I finally heard that God intends for us to be happy! And, in fact, if we are not allowing ourselves to let God show us that, we are both insulting God's creation and...cheating ourselves.

And yet, we are capable of throwing God's optimism back in God's face. God tells us that we are children of God and that we should walk in the Light.Yes, indeed, that is what God expects of us, and if we throw that back in God’s face, couldn’t that be a type of darkness – a type of sin?

Remember, the second great commandment is that we love our neighbors as ourselves. If we don’t love ourselves, we are giving our neighbors less than they deserve.

To do this, we must live in the light. John’s gospel is full of images of light and dark. If we go right back to the beginning of the Gospel of John, we hear those wonderful words: “The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world.” Hear those words: “to everyone.” That means us.

We are fools if we choose to live in the darkness, especially if it’s a darkness of our making.

Unfortunately, we know that we adults do choose to live in the darkness. One of the most tragic verses in John’s gospel, maybe in all of scripture, follows that verse: “He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him.” That means us, too.

Here’s the crux of the matter. Jesus came to us. God took on the flesh of a human so that God could live among us and show us firsthand how much we are loved – and yet we choose not to recognize him by not fully embracing the goodness with which we were made. That is darkness of a tragic type.

Lent is our time to consider our darkness – one reason why you hear the statement at the beginning of the liturgy in Lent..."If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves."Sometimes we construct elaborate ways to either ignore our sins--or--to wallow in them unnecessarily. Either way, we sit in darkness.

God so loved the world, God so loved you and me, that he came into the world, died for our sins, and rose again..so that the light of that Resurrection will be the light that transforms us.

Are there any snakes biting at your heels today? Any darkness biting at your heels?

Look upon the cross and receive the light that God is waiting to ignite in you!!

Amen.

Scriptural Texts: Numbers 21:4-9; Psalm 107:1-3, 17-22; Ephesians 2:;1-10; John 3:14-21

New Covenant Musings (Sermon for Lent III, March 11 2012)

+In the name of Jesus, an angry man of God. Amen.

I don't know about you, but the gospel I just read has always made me just a little uncomfortable.
Why is Jesus that angry? Surely this has to be your question.
Jesus, after all, was a master at focusing on what was really important. He always seemed to keep his cool, didn't he?

Remember the feeding of the five thousand? Facing that enormous crowd, Jesus gave all his attention to preaching and healing and teaching about the coming kingdom of God while the disciples were so concerned about there being enough food for everyone.
At the wedding in Cana, when the wine runs out, does he loose his cool then? No, he casually turns all that water into wine.

When arrested on trumped up charges and tried by a kangaroo court, Jesus faced tormentors who tried everything to get a rise out of him.
They taunted him, they mocked him, spat on him, hit him, humiliated him -- but they never succeeded in cracking his composure.
Jesus didn't seem to have any hot buttons to go off when it came to protecting himself.

But today's gospel text demonstrates that Jesus definitely had hot buttons that could be pushed.
Confronted with the busy, bustling scene on the temple steps, seems Jesus was suddenly struck by the futility of all that activity: the waste, the deception, the manipulation of God's intentions for selfish human purposes.
The terminal sickness of the religious system of the day hit Jesus in the face and lit up his hot button.
It seems obvious that in Jesus' mind, the moneychangers had broken The Rules, right?

Rules. During the season of Lent, we begin our liturgy with the Ten Commandments. They are also known as the Decalogue (deca- means ten).
Today, now you know that they come from the Old Testament as related by Moses in the Book of Exodus.
One of Father Brad's "rules" of thumb ...the Old Testament is all about rules and regulations.

Every once in a while, there is a movement to post the Ten Commandments in our schools. The thought is that if we just lay out the rules, we'll get people to behave.

If you took a survey, I think that most people would admit that they see the Ten Commandments as encumbrances placed on personal behavior--they're all the things we not supposed to do.
And while most of us can't name all ten of the commandments, we are persuaded that at the center of each one is the all-important finger-wagging "thou shalt not!"

For some, the commandments are heavy yokes to be publicly placed on the necks of those who are rebellious (or those for whom we disagree). Just ask Rush Limbaugh.

Understanding the Decalogue as a set of burdens overlooks something essential though--namely that they are prefaced not by an order, "Here are ten rules. Obey them!"-- but instead by a breathtaking announcement of freedom:
"I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage." Ex. 20:2)

What if...what if we referred to the commandments as "descriptions of the life that prevails when you're in the zone of God's liberation"?

"Because the Lord is your God," the Decalogue affirms, "you are free not to need any other gods. You are free to rest on the seventh day; free from the tyranny of lifeless idols; free from murder, stealing and covetousness as ways to establish yourself in this world."

The Decalogue begins with the Good news of what the liberating God has done, and then describes the shape of the freedom that results.

The commandments are not weights, but wings that enable our hearts to catch the wind of God's spirit and to soar.

Last week, we heard about the covenant that God made with Abraham.
Later, with Moses' help, that covenant was carved into stone tablets. There was the old covenant.

Jesus then came as the new covenant, a new testament to the relationship that God wants to have with us.
"…and he took our nature upon himself, and suffered death upon the cross for our redemption."

It's all about the new relationship with God being tied up in the likes of a human being who also was divine.

"…take our nature upon him". In other words, "human, like us."

Jesus was so very human. Could you identify with the feeling of anger that Jesus was feeling in the Temple?
If you are a parent, I would bet it might be especially easy for you to feel the same sort of anger.
Is it anger? Or is it profound disappointment--frustration?

Do you ever get frustrated when someone just doesn't hear you?
You repeat what you have to say over and over again, and,before you know it, you are raising your voice to that person in frustration?

You're not angry with the person; you are profoundly disappointed that you aren't communicating.

Why was Jesus profoundly disappointed at the Temple? He saw that the money changers were damaging the purpose of the Temple.

It wasn't about breaking rules at all; it was about breaking up a specific type of relationship, a relationship between God and his children.

Moses brought the Law. But Jesus brought us the Relationship.

Yes, we must have laws and rules for civil conduct. But keep in mind, we are creatures who just love to worship the Law and we love to impose our particular interpretation of the Law on others.

Scripture says that Jesus came not to abolish the Law, but to fulfill it.
I suggest to you that Jesus came to reflect a whole new paradigm of faith.

Jesus placed himself between ourselves and God.
The Law is no longer the main thing between us and God!
Jesus is.

It is as if we were trying to see something in the distance--let's say "the Law"--and Jesus keeps getting the way: "Excuse me. Lord, but I was trying to get a good look at the rules and you keep getting in the way!"

In the next moment, it is not Jesus I see blocking the view...but my neighbor.
And then another person...and another, each more different than the one before. What's going on here!?

Hearkening back to what I said last week, our God--being the god of contradictions--whenever we are wanting to see things narrowly, Jesus again gets in our viewpoint and compels us to look in a new direction.

Let me offer another example of what I'm trying to say.

It is as if everyone of us possesses a tiny mirror, a piece of a mirror. Can't see the whole picture without the help of all the pieces of the mirror.

Jesus was upset with the money changers because the worshippers were engaged in bringing their best mirrors to God in hopes of establishing, or re-establishing their relationship with the Almighty.
But the rules got in the way.
And Jesus got so upset over that, that he broke every rule in the book that day, crying out and saying, "Let nothing come between my people and my father."

That sort of rule-breaking eventually cost him his life.

I struggle with what all that this means. I'm not clear on what the God of contradictions has in mind for me. I'd rather have a divine email waiting for me on a daily basis, but...


I do think it has everything to do with placing our relationship with our fellow human beings above just about every rule and law and norm out there.

I sense that as soon as we encounter someone who wants to put us in a legal box of their creation, our God of Contradictions wants us to turn and face the opposite way.

So what, or who are the Temple money changers in your life? Where are they worshipping the Law at the expense of our relationship with each other?

How have we reached out to look into the mirrors of the people right around us, much less people we don't know yet?

Seeing the Ten Commandments as declarations of freedom, as a call to contradict the forces of this world is far more satisfying than hauling around tons of carved stone tablets, worrying about how long our backs will hold out.

Open yourself to a fresh, new perspective. Ponder this during Lent. Decide for yourself.

Amen.

Scriptural Texts: Exodus 20:1-7; Psalm 19; I Corinthians 1:18-25; John 2:13-22

Take Up the Good Cross (Sermon for Lent II, March 4 2012)

+In the name of our God who hands us our cross. Amen.

Last week, we spoke of baptism--something often associated with the beginning of life. Today, the "theme" seems to be death.

There are many kinds of death. There are dramatic deaths and routine deaths. There are little deaths and death on an epic scale.

Death is a part of life. In fact, we wouldn’t be alive without it. Cells are dying all the time in our bodies so that we can live. These are not random deaths—they are programmed deaths for our own good.

Look at your hand. It has five fingers because the cells that used to live between them died way back when you were an embryo. If certain of our cells hadn’t died way back then, we would not be as fully developed as we are.

Everyday we are dying just a little. As soon as we are born, we begin a calculated dying process.

Our bodies are full of little deaths. Our skin is constantly changing, our hair, our fingernails. Did you know that there is something called the p53 protein in your DNA that commands cancerous cells to commit suicide in your body every day? These cancer cells die so that we might live.

Whenever we are over an infection, the white blood cells who have fought the good fight, commit suicide so that our system can become balanced again. Isn't that amazing?

In this context, let's place the very matter-of-fact statement by Jesus to his disciples that he is going to undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed. (Mark 8:31)
He says this, as if he were reporting that his white blood cells were massing for a terrible infection. And, some dying will need to take place.

Peter takes Jesus aside and tries to scold him for talking such nonsense.
Jesus, in turn, scolds Peter and tells him in no uncertain terms that his messiah must die... because of the benefit this brings to the greater whole.

Today, we are challenged to find a way to respond to the call of Jesus when he says, “If any wants to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.”

Have you ever felt uncomfortable when you heard this? Even if Jesus himself was here right now, looking me right in the eye, and asking me to take up my cross...I would be very uncomfortable.
And, frankly, there's a side of me that would wish I could be anywhere else at the moment than there in front of him. Please Jesus, not that cross business.

I’m grateful for an excellent discussion during one of our monthly clergy meetings with the bishop in which we examined the word “cross.”

Until that moment, I hadn’t noticed that my interpretation of ‘cross’ was insufficient.
I realized that, all too often, my perception of taking on a cross was too close to being a burden, something just as heavy and unwieldy as that cross that Jesus actually carried.
My question was, “You want me to carry what?!”

We're all aware of people who figuratively walk around with the largest, heaviest cross on their shoulder because it makes them such a good martyr.
And maybe, if you ask them, they might say that God is testing them somehow and that their lot is to bear their cross willingly.
Who wants to be like that?

Jesus, however, made a conscious decision to take on the cross.
He certainly did give up a great deal in order to take on the cross.

This brings to mind the question of whether taking on a cross actually means denying oneself, or taking on a new dimension of the self.

What does it mean to “take up your cross”?
Notice that here Jesus didn’t say, “take up MY cross.” He said, “…let them …. take up their cross and follow me.”

What does your cross look like?
At this point, we realize that taking up a cross is probably a very positive thing. It can have no negative connotations!
Why? Jesus is calling us to take up the power of the cross not because it makes us weak, but because it makes us strong!

Friends, if there are only a few things that I ever succeed in teaching you, this is one of the most important. You need to pay attention at this point.
If I have said it once, I will say it a hundred times: our God is a God of contradictions.
The power of Jesus lays in the fact that he is the God Incarnate of contradictions. The very cross itself is the symbol of that contradiction.

Time after time, Jesus upset the norm. Whatever we thought he SHOULD do, he often did...just the opposite.

Backing up a few thousand years, God takes an old Abraham and Sarah and calls them out for childbirth well beyond the normal childbearing years. And to emphasize the radical turnabout, God gives Abram and Sarai new names.

Paul recounts that Abraham and Sarah were living proof of this God of contradictions. He also highlights that Jesus came back from the dead
as yet another proof of this God of contradictions.

The God of contradictions says that anyone who loses his life for his sake, will save it.

I know what you're thinking."If I agree to this cross-bearing thing, and actually open myself up to the power of this God of contradictions, will I be changed in some way? I kind of like things the way they are."

The season of Lent is our time to ponder whether we are ready to experience a necessary death and be birthed into a world of contradiction, of cross-bearing that isn’t a burden, but a delight.

During the season of Lent we are called to examine just how the sacrifice aspect in Jesus’ ministry can mean a wonderful new life in us.

So now I hope you can see...like programmed cell death, the death of Jesus brings benefit to the greater whole. The challenge for us is to see how we can find the up-side of his death in the lives we live every day.

To become a follower of Jesus means being willing to make our lives a living sacrifice for the good of all; to be willing to deny ourselves for the benefit of the larger human organism.

First, we do need to examine the big picture.
Peter in our gospel reading couldn’t see the big picture. His mind was, as Jesus said, set on human things. Jesus saw that the cross was inevitable as part of the divine plan, God’s big picture.

Where is it that we need to expand our vision of God’s plan for us?
It might be that we need to die to the idea that the world revolves around us. It takes a death of self and pride to be willing to work on the big plan, or to be part of God’s greater work, and to put oneself at the mercy of something far bigger than ourselves. That’s certainly one kind of cross to bear.

Second, we need to fight the good fight.
I said ‘the good fight’ not the bad fight.
We can give our fights the litmus test by asking ourselves, “What would Jesus do?” It’s cliché but it works. This might mean that we'll take an unpopular stance once in a while.

Let’s face it: we’d rather not fight. We’d rather not even be in the game, but rather watching it from the sidelines! Why, we’d rather not even be in training!!

I’m very proud to observe however, that parishioners are bucking this typical reaction. More and more I am seeing you step up to the plate and ask, “What can I do?” We’re not quite to the point where people ask for their boxing gloves, but we’re on our way to the Good Fight and some of us are entering the ring. Praise God.

Finally, let's put our fears aside. By this I mean that we need to ask the question, "What's stopping us?"
I think the best way to get away from our manufactured fears is to examine our lives and spot road blocks we have made—and any veils we might be hiding behind.

If we are going to fight the good fight, run the race, journey down the road, then we’ve got to trust that what Jesus did for us on the cross was nothing less than life-transforming, road-block smashing, veil splitting.

As we take up our cross, I hope that you will be able to look back on your decision and say, "This wasn't as bad as I thought. In fact, thank you Jesus. Thank you."

Amen

Scriptural Texts: Genesis 17:1-7, 15-16; Psalm 22:22-30; Romans 4:13-25; Mark 8:31-39

Calling Us Back to Eden (Sermon for Lent I, February 26 2012)

+ To the One who set his rainbow in the skies,
Who was baptized in the Jordan and tempted in the desert.
Who alone can judge,
Who alone can save.
To the only One who holds grace and truth in perfect tension.
Amen.

The lessons today are more or less about water. We begin with the great Flood and end with the baptism of Jesus in the River Jordan. And the Epistle is the segue. So something tells me my sermon needs to be wet. 

Now, perhaps I've done things that might cause you to say that I am all wet. Today, let me be purposefully so.

As part of our whirlwind tour of the Holy Land, the members of the clergy group I was with had the opportunity to renew our baptismal vows in the River Jordan.

The Jordan is not an impressive river and in some spots it looks more like a creek than a river. No one knows at what spot on the Jordan Jesus was baptized by John the Baptist, his cousin.

The spot where they offer people the opportunity for baptisms is a bucolic setting complete with large trees hanging over the water.

But the reality of my visit to the Jordan was that it was only 50 degrees outside and the water was absolutely frigid. I am convinced that Jesus was not baptized in February.

We had a limited amount of time for this visit. About a third of the group went and changed into white smocks and swim suits.  The smocks gave everyone a nice blank image, the garment equalized us at least visually.

I was proud when a United Methodist pastor pulled out his pocket sized Book of Common Prayer and read through the renewal of vows questions on page 303. These were familiar words indeed. It was cold, so we read quickly.

Next we gathered in the murky water and as we were all clergy, no one needed to take the lead. We all dunked each other.

In the photo of me being dunked, I have noticed that my fists are clenched. This must be somewhat it feels like to take the Polar Plunge.

So, unfortunately I did not have a nice leisurely dunking during which I could imagine how Jesus felt right after his baptism.

For him, the heavens were torn open, the Spirit of God alighted on him in the form of a dove, and that voice from heaven declared, "You are my Son, the beloved; with you I am well pleased."

What Jesus and I did have in common, however, was that neither of us had the luxury of relishing the moment.

I was shivering and eager to get out of my wet smock and into my street clothes.

Jesus was, according to our reading from the Gospel of Mark, immediately driven into the wilderness.

One of the attributes of the gospel of Mark is his use of dramatic language.  In the other gospels, Jesus is "led" by the spirit into the wilderness. Mark has him being driven into the wilderness where he was tempted by Satan himself and surrounded by wild beasts.

In the gospels of Matthew and Luke, we hear more specifics of Jesus' time in the wilderness, but Mark just tells us all about it in just one sentence. 

Forty days...one sentence.

I think we can take some comfort in Mark's honesty about how Jesus ended up in the wilderness.

We don't generally enter the wilderness on our own volition either. When was the last time you heard someone say, "See ya later honey, I'll be out in the wilderness for a few weeks."?

Nor are we usually gently led there by the Holy Spirit.  Most often, we are thrown into our wilderness.  Can you relate to this?

A shattering of a relationship, the sudden loss of job or health or home, a fault line opening up in our ground of being--any of those things can land us in a desolate place, or...land a desolate place...within us!

Mark doesn't tell us much about Jesus' inner struggles until we get to the Garden of Gethsemane.

Instead, Mark's Gospel primarily focuses on an external conflict: Jesus' ongoing battle royal with Satan and/or the forces of evil.

This is sort of like round one in the wilderness bout for Jesus.

In the Old Testament, Abraham was tested with what seems like too much to ask of anyone: the sacrifice of his son Isaac. That spot was then made sacred for all time and is the mount on which the Temple and the focus of three major faiths in Jerusalem.

Jerusalem then, is THE memorial site for our wilderness experiences.

After Abraham comes Moses and the 40 years of wilderness in which God provided daily bread for the children of Israel, but they came up short in their struggle to trust their future to God.

No one will ever know exactly what Satan did to tempt Jesus during his wilderness experience. We assume it was non-stop for the forty days.

It seems to me that that experience for Jesus and our own wilderness experiences can be like that old Verizon television commercial.

Here we are, out in far flung parts and God is on the other end of the cell phone reception asking, "Can you hear me now? 

Can you hear me say that you are my beloved son now, when you see that this struggle with Satan isn't a one-time event, but of long duration?

Jesus heard that, unlike Isaac, he would not be spared, but offered up for the sin of the world.

For both Jesus and ourselves, God is saying, "Can you hear me in the angels I send to wait on you? Can you see and hear in them the assurance that I will sustain you?"

Can you hear me now?  God also asks us.

Can we hear that the one who was with Jesus is also with us for the long haul, even when we're in the wilderness?

Can we recognize our "angels" who are sent to wait upon us?

Can we hear God's call to BE the angels who accompany others in their lonely and desolate places?

###

Every now and then, I hear a phrase that sticks with me.  I pay attention to this, as more often than not, it is a phrase that needs to be mined for its meaning.

I happen to hear this phrase in the context of a sermon preached at St. George's Cathedral in Jerusalem.  But it continues to have meaning for me this Lent.

The phrase is this.  God is always calling us back to Eden.  God is always calling us back to Eden.

In the wilderness that Jesus is being expelled into today, he encounters the wild beasts.  They represent the real dangers of survival in a wilderness.

I read that the battle with the wild beasts began with Adam but now Jesus has finally subdued the beasts and is restoring paradise.

In the faithfulness of Jesus, the peaceable kingdom is being ushered in.

God is always calling us back to Eden.

We know the rest of the story. God's Spirit drove Jesus to continued encounters with Satan--the forces of evil--that finally culminated on the cross.

In Mark's Gospel, Jesus utters only one word from the cross, a cry born out to complete desolation. "My God, my God," Jesus asks, "why have you forsaken me?"

His words are not original. They come from Psalm 22 which he would have known.  The psalmist in that passage speaks of being encircled by wild animals.

Jesus encountered the worst wilderness of all--the sense of abandonment by God.

Needlessly, we sometimes allow ourselves to know that feeling too.

"Can you hear me now?"   God the Father asks.

For a moment, Jesus can't.  For our sake, he bears the silence just as he bears our sins, so that for us forsakenness and abandonment will not be the last word. He has been there, done that...for us.

Jesus' first stop after his resurrection is revealed in our 1 Peter reading; he descends to hell's gates and rips them open.

It is his victory speech over the forces of evil in this world, over all sin and death, proclaiming release to the captives held prisoner.  That's us!

"Beloved, you there in the wilderness; can you hear me now?"  Jesus asks us, sounding a lot like his father.

Can we hear him now?  Lent is a very good time to work on our listening skills. God is always calling.

Amen.

Scriptural Texts: Genesis 9:8-17; Psalm 25:1-9; 1 Peter 3:18-22; Mark 1:9-15