You are Lovable: The Aching Love of God

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First Lutheran Church, Detroit Lakes, MN

Pentecost 8 | 07.18.2021 | Mark 6:30-34

Although they were like sheep without a shepherd, “he had compassion for them” (Mark 6:34). Although they were an overwhelming, perhaps even irritating, intrusive crowd, Jesus had compassion for them.

Our story begins with the disciples and Jesus on a boat. Jesus gathers them up, they report, and seeing their tired eyes and postures he says, “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while” (6:31). It’s a gracious idea for his worn-out disciples…but…crowds on the shore spot the boat and begin to gather in anxious anticipation for Jesus to arrive.

Jesus has every reason for impatience. Everywhere he turns there are crowds—and this time ‘the crowds’ interrupt a moment sought for rest and relaxation. But radically, it is not impatience that saturates the moment, but compassion.

As one scholar puts it:

Rather than being an intrusion into the R and R, the [interrupting] crowd becomes the object of Jesus’ deep concern…It is amazing how Jesus handles this interruption…his compassion for the intruders overrides [any] concern for order…This text affirms his extraordinary availability.[1] –end quote–

Rather than dismiss people for the sake of his own agenda, Jesus flows according to need. He did the same thing when he was interrupted by the sick woman on the way to heal Jairus’ daughter (5:21-43). Instead of feeling intruded and irritated, Jesus felt compassion. This is how Jesus responds to a needy people, like you and me: compassion.     

And the Greek word for compassion here “has its root in the word that means ‘guts,’”[2] says one professor. In other words, Jesus looks upon these desperate people and he feels for them, deep in the pit of his stomach. Put another way, Jesus is aching to care for them.

I just love that! That Jesus would be intruded upon by this overwhelming, disruptive, and likely annoying group of people, and instead of frustration and irritability he looks upon them with an aching compassion. Susie and I were talking about this and it made us think of the love that parents have for their children. Even though they can try us to the point of breakdown, even though they can frustrate, intrude, and annoy, there will still be this overriding, aching, parental love to provide, protect, and be present to them. If you ever have a sense for that love, for that feeling, then you have a sense for the way Jesus feels about his people. 

And thank God because each of us needs that. We all find ourselves in times of stress, disconnection, despair, and pain where we are incapable of controlling the situation, where we, like these people in the story, wait for God to speak a word to our situation…and the promise of the passage is that Jesus arrives on the shores of our lives and does have a word to speak into our challenges and traumas, and it is a word of compassion, and not just a word, but a visceral, deep-in-the-pit-of-his-stomach, love.

That promise is basic, but it is also profound. Saying, effectively, that Jesus loves you at this level seems a commonplace expression, a cliché that we’ve all heard a thousand times, but still, is there anything more powerful than knowing that you are loved on that deep of a level? That someone aches over you? And in this case that it is no less than the Creator of the Universe?

Still, maybe we’ve heard about Jesus’ compassion so many times that some of us lose a sense of what to even do with that promise. I think the answer relies on really focusing upon it to deeply try and accept that we are accepted, because knowledge of that love can change our daily lives.

So, I challenge us all to ground ourselves deeply and clothe ourselves daily in the promise of Jesus’ compassion, to let that ever-powerful cliché sink in, to take intentional moments to focus on this promise that we are achingly loved.

Why? Because in a broken world and as wounded people, when we engage some daily spiritual practice to reflect on the truth that we are loved is a necessary and powerful move.

What does that look like? I don’t know. For each of you, it will be different. Maybe it looks like whispering to yourself over and over again in stressful and fearful moments—I am not alone. Or maybe it’s writing in your notebooks or planners, I am Beloved. Maybe it’s taking a little strip of paper and taping it to your bathroom mirror that reads: “I am lovable.” In any case, to do so is a courageous act of faith, to trust God when God has compassion for you.

Trust me when I say, I loathe corniness and sentimentality. So, when I urge this, I mean that it deeply matters. There are too many voices in our own head and out there in the world that tell us that we are not enough. So to focus on Jesus’ love for you is actually more like an act of rebellion than it is sappy and sentimental. To spiritually focus on this love is no small thing, because a person who knows they are loved is powerful. A person who knows they are loved is courageous. A person who knows they are loved is free yet connected.

Upon these realizations we can step into a whole new life, despite the challenges and traumas of existence. It is one thing to be simply awarethat Jesus has compassion; it’s “quite another to allow [that] compassion to unfold in your world,”[3] to have it govern your thoughts and day-to-day lives.

Again, the reason this is so powerful is that everything in our lives seems transactional! Earn your status. Earn your keep. Do this, then…be like this so that…no free lunches! And way too much of Christianity has been corrupted by this thinking…do this and you’ll be saved…live like this and you won’t go to hell…pray like this, believe this much, come to church this often, don’t dance, don’t swear, don’t drink, don’t love this person, don’t hang out with these kinds of people, be this kind of spouse, be this kind of kid, do X, don’t do Y, or else…ENOUGH!…How about this: Jesus loves you because Jesus loves you. Jesus loves you because you are LOVABLE. And may that be the most powerful and permeating truth that you carry into each and every day.

I often and already have quoted my uncle with this next bit, but it is worth repeating forever: my uncle often says, “You want to know why I need to hear that I am loved every Sunday in worship? Because I don’t often feel very lovable.”

With today’s gospel story, here is your proclaimed reminder: as a member of the frenzied and troubled crowd of this world, you are lovable. So much so that according to today’s gospel, Jesus lovingly aches over you in his very being.

Focus on that every single day. And then…go spread it around.

Amen.

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     [1] Walter Brueggemann, Texts for Preaching: A Lectionary Commentary Based on the NRSV—Year B (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1993), 436.

     [2] Karoline Lewis, “The Dew of Compassion,” Dear Working Preacher, Workingpreacher.org, http://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=3656. 

     [3] Ibid. 

God’s Power is Weak…Thank God

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First Lutheran Church, Detroit Lakes, MN

Pentecost 6 | 07.04.2021 | 2 Corinthians 12:5-10

God’s power is made perfect in weakness (cf. 2 Cor 12:9).

That’s what God told the Apostle Paul in our reading today.

What does that mean?

God’s power is made perfect in weakness.

Almost sounds like a riddle, doesn’t it? If you’re confused by it know that you’re not alone. Matthew Skinner, a scholar of the New Testament, notes that this part in Corinthians is known as “The Fool’s Speech,” because it’s so puzzling.[1]How is power weakness? How is weakness powerful?

Let’s work through it, because this is actually one of my favorite proclamations about God.

As usual, let’s note the context. When Paul quotes God on this, Paul’s recounting a painful time in his life: “…a thorn was given me in the flesh…Three times I appealed to the Lord…” – to which God responded, “[my] power is made perfect in weakness,” and my “grace is sufficient” (12:7-9).

In other words, God is saying that God does not abandon Paul in such moments. This is why I love this proclamation. God is declaring that God is not only found in high and mighty places, but also in the trenches. God is effectively telling Paul, “Listen, my power is not found in avoiding or running away from brokenness, but found in my pursuit of people experiencing it.”

This means God is willing to use God’s power in order to be present and vulnerable with us, especially in our WEAKEST places, and that, according to God, is a perfect use of power.

This still may sound strange, because this type of logic isn’t natural to most of us, because this is not the world’s typical understanding of power. Even for most ancient religions this is not a typical understanding of divine power! For instance, in the ancient Greco-Roman world, gods would NEVER be associated with weakness. The gods of Plato[2] would never dirty themselves in dealing with human pain, shame, or vulnerability. They were always above it—that’s what made them gods! Ancient Norse gods, Persian Gods…these were brutes and warlords whose association with pain and weakness was deemed impossible.

Yet here God is saying, my power is made perfect in weakness.

That’s not only antithetical to most ancient religions, but also to what we idolize culturally. We idolize wealth, fame, status, and domination; we love the ivory towers of academia, the bank accounts of Wall Street, the toughness of politicians, the fame of celebrities, and the victory of athletes. And on this Independence Day we’ll celebrate and emphasize the military victories and global dominance of the United States, not its associations with weakness and vulnerability.

With this the general slant of our culture, it can be difficult to understand what God proclaims here, that divine power is something not solely obsessed with high places, victory, or prosperity…but, rather, weakness. That’s why this is The Fool’s Speech. That’s the foolish thing about Christianity…it doesn’t glorify dominance.

This is because Christ’s love is not power over, but power with, especially with the broken and the suffering. And if we think about it, maybe that isn’t so difficult to understand. For instance,

What might you think of the person that skips the ‘who’s who’ party to enter into weakness and go be with a friend who suffers from debilitating anxiety instead?

What might you think of a child who rather than joining the bully decides instead to enter into weakness and distract the bully by making a fool of himself?

What might you think of the athlete who rather than taunting her opponent, helps her up?

What might you think of countries who rather than going to war bypass strategies of aggression, and pursue peace instead?

What might you think of the God who turns weapons of war into instruments of agriculture, like God did in Isaiah chapter 2?

What might you think of a God who instead of seeking revenge seeks forgiveness, like God did in Ezekiel chapter 33?

What might you think of the God who instead of embracing competition hopes we all make it, like Jesus implied in the Parable of the Laborers in the Vineyard?

What might you think of the God who rather than expecting us to wash his feet in some power-move, washes ours…like God did in John chapter 13?

What might you think of the God who rather than ostracizing the outcast and shaming the sinful, wines and dines with them like it is noted in Luke chapter 7?

What might you think of the God who rather than crucifying the world, is crucified for the world?

Because that’s the God we have – a God whose power is not just found on the side of the winning army, so to speak, but drenched in the blood and tears of the suffering: consoling the tormented veteran, the overlooked elderly, and the defenseless orphan; crying with the despairing, standing with the debt-ridden, exploited with the laborer, outcast with the outcast, caged with the migrant, ailing with the sick, sharing wounds with the oppressed, and trembling with the homeless.

To the world, this is weakness. But God’s power is made perfect in weakness, because this is the power of love—a love that dwells with us in our places of pain and failure, and shares that space with us. This is power by divine definition.

So, sisters and brothers, in whatever trenches you now find yourselves, know that Christ dwells with you, in perfect power…and therefore, according to the Apostle Paul, “whenever [you] are weak, then [you] are strong” (2 Cor 12:9-10). Amen.

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     [1] Matthew Skinner, “Podcast #613 – Seventh Sunday after Pentecost,” Sermon Brainwave, Workingpreacher.org, http://www.workingpreacher.org/brainwave.aspx?podcast_id=1037.                    

     [2] Jürgen Moltmann, The Crucified God (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1993), 215.