In the game Oregon Trail, one of the elements that needed to be overcome was rivers. The game invited players to jump into a covered wagon on its journey from St. Louis to Oregon in the mid-1800s. After suffering broken axles, hunting for food, and contracting dysentery, players needed to cross several rivers. Players always hoped that these crossings would be uneventful but the wagon sometimes tipped over, causing wagon tongues to float way. Rivers, in Oregon Trail, were boundaries that needed to be crossed so that players could enter their promised land.

Today's first reading Genesis 32:22-31 begins at a river. Jacob, with his family and his wealth, is on his way to meet his brother Esau. Ever since their time in the womb, these two siblings have been in constant competition with each other. As a young child, Jacob pretended to be his brother in order to gain his father's blessing. Esau, in response, cursed his brother. Since then, Jacob's entire life was under Esau's curse. Jacob knew he needed to reconcile with his brother. But Jacob was unwilling to face his past. He needed to be transformed into something new. So God, in a colorful moment, intervened and the nation of Israel gained its new name.

In the ancient world, rivers were "believed to be infested by demons."* Jacob, when confronted by the unknown being, did not know what he was struggling against. He assumed he was fighting a demon but when dawn broke, he realized he was struggling with God. In that moment, his past and his assumptions collided with his present reality. He became open to new possibilities.  Jacob then asked for a blessing because he knew his struggle with God required him to become something new. Jacob's name change did not ignore or diminish his past. Rather, God's gift of a new identity signifies his transformation into something more than he once was. In our baptism, we are, like Jacob, given a new identity. We are not limited by what we have done or by what others have said about us. Rather, in God's eyes, we are God's beloved. And since we are loved, we get to live new lives that bear the marks of all our struggle while God's carries us into God's Promised Land.

*quote from page 233 of The Torah, a Modern Commentary (Revised) edited by W. Gunther Plaut, 2006.

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Today's reading from 2 Kings 5:1-3, 7-15c started in a strange place. Naaman was a successful military commander of Aram, a kingdom centered in modern day Syria. He did not follow the God of Israel yet we hear, in the very first verse, that God was with him. We don't always think about God being with those who don't believe. Yet, that's where this story began. Naaman was a foreigner with immense power given to him by his King and Israel's God. Yet his life was not perfect. Even though he was powerful, he was sick. And he could not remove the leprosy that afflicted him.

However, one of his slaves was a young girl who would be the catalyst for his salvation. She had been captured during one of the many Aramean raids on Israel during this period. Aram's success on the battlefield meant Israel was oppressed by their stronger neighbor. At this moment in history, the power gap between Israel and Aram was huge. Israel could barely defend itself. And in the case of this young woman, her power when compared to Naaman was even more at odds. She was enslaved by the very military leader who succeeded in destabilizing her community. She had no control over the violence done to her while Naaman could exercise his power in any way he saw fit. In the eyes of the world, she was nothing while he was everything. Yet God chose to speak through her. Naaman's healing would not come through his worldly power. Rather, his healing came through the people the world saw as powerless. Because, as evident throughout Scripture, those who have no one to trust but God are the ones who can see God's work in the world. After being informed by the prophet Elisha to go and take a bath, Naaman almost didn't do it. Elisha's words seemed too easy. Yet those around Naaman, especially his powerless servants and slaves, knew what God was up to. They convince Naaman to embrace what God was doing. Naaman finally washed and was healed.

But there's more to the story than a simple healing. We need to look at the Hebrew. Our English translation is based on to truly see what God was doing. In the words of Dr. Rolf Jacobson, "The Hebrew for 'young boy' is na’ar qaton—the masculine equivalent to the young girl (na’arah qatannah) whom the great man had enslaved and from whom his salvation began." In God's eyes, Naaman has become like the young girl - beloved, welcomed, and included. God chose to make Naaman brand new. And in that newness, God encouraged Naaman to see others in a new way, too. He was invited, I believe, to see that young girl not the way the world does, as a slave. Rather, he should see her through God's eyes, setting her free, because she, like every human being, is worth more than any army of chariots, horses, and mighty warriors.

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If you were looking for a phrase to describe Habakkuk, you should use Jin Han who described Habakkuk as "the irritated prophet." Habakkuk lived around the year 600 BCE in Judah, a small country with Jerusalem as its capital. During this moment in history, Judah was sandwiched between two competing empires: Egypt and Babylon. Both used their political, financial, and military muscle to force Judah to do their bidding. The people of Judah were anxious, unsure of what was going to happen next. And that anxiety, I think, weakened the community. Corruption grew as people focused on taking care of themselves at the expense of others. Judah was crumbling due to external and internal pressure. Yet the irritated prophet began his words today in an interesting way. Instead of speaking to Judah, he spoke first to God. His "how long" wasn't Habakkuk attempting to get new information from God. Rather, he began with a lament. For too long, the people of Judah suffered and God, in Habakkuk's eyes, seemed silent. The anger within these opening verses is very real. He wanted God to show up. He made a promise that he, like the soldiers on the watchtower, will keep watch until God shows up. God, finally, responded but not in the way Habakkuk expected. God told him to wait and to trust that God's promises will come true.

As we celebrate today our 60th anniversary as Christ Lutheran Church, I'm in awe of the number of ways we continue to trust in God's promises. Every time we gather to worship, we trust God is with us. When we gather for Bible Study, Sunday School, or Adult Ed, we trust that God knows us and that the Holy Spirit will reveal new ways to help us know God. When we gather to pray, to cook a meal for a member of the community, to harvest in the garden, and when we check in with one-another, we trust that the relationship we have in Jesus will always unite us. Through our committee work, choir practice, property cleanup, trash and treasure setup, and what we do in our church council, we trust that God has already given us the gifts and talents we need to further God's work in the world. We continue to proclaim the good news that Jesus is not apathetic and God is not absent. And we trust that Jesus' presence in our lives truly makes a difference. As we move forward into CLC's next 60 years, we will do what we have already done: trust God. And that trust will keep forming us into a community that will, today and always, keep following Jesus.

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What should we do with the book of Revelation? The last book in the Bible is mysterious, alluring and full of surprises. For some, Revelation's strangeness is a reason to ignore it. For others, Revelation is a codebook with secrets describing the end of the world. After Martin Luther translated the New Testament into German, he remarked that Revelation was "neither apostolic nor prophetic" and there was no way that "the Holy Spirit produced it." As time went on, Luther's take on Revelation changed. Instead of focusing on what the book said (i.e. what information it contained), he focused on what Revelation did to those who read it. How did Revelation's words and strangeness impact and change us? How were our current stresses, joys and experiences impacted by Revelation's imagery? How was our faith changed when we see Michael, the Dragon, and more? These are just some of the questions floating in the background when we read Revelation. And when Luther looked at what Revelation was doing to him, he noticed the promise within its pages that gave him life.

Revelation is not a codebook. Instead, it's scripture designed to give us Jesus. When we read Revelation, we should keep the insights developed by Craig Koester (Professor of New Testament, Luther Seminary) in mind. One, consider the book as a whole. It's meant to be read as a complete book and not dissected into separate pieces. Two, the timeline in Revelation is not linear. The images often repeat, following a pattern that spirals forward. Third, the book wants to turn us away from false sources of security and into the hands of Jesus. Fourth, the book was written for a community 2000 years ago. It made sense to them, and it can make sense to us. And finally, the book is all about the promise given to us in our baptism and central to our faith: no matter what, Jesus is with us and he will, in the end, carry us through.

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The first letter to Timothy begins with Paul's name but scholars do not believe Paul wrote it. In ancient times, anonymous authors regularly used the name of someone famous as their pen-name. No one at the time considered this to be plagiarism or fraud. Instead, using the name of someone famous let the audience know what school of thought the author came from. First Timothy was probably written near the end of the first century, nearly 40 years after Paul's death. It's addressed to Timothy (a friend of Paul) who is identified as a leader in the church. By this time in the Christian church, congregations were trying to figure out what skills leaders in their community needed. Congregations were growing larger and there were theological struggles over what they should teach. The letter is addressed to pastors and bishops but also to the wider community. First Timothy is a letter meant for all people as they figured out how to live their faith out loud.

Today's reading 1 Timothy 2:1-7 is focused on prayer. The author encouraged folks to pray for everyone but especially for those with political authority. By the end of the first century, local governments were sometimes persecuting the Christian communities. And this persecution could be violent. The author of First Timothy wanted communities to pray for those who might be inclined to attack them. He hoped that such a public display of prayer would encourage the government to stop viewing Christians as a subversive threat. But this kind of prayer was more than just an attempt for the Christian community to have some peace. The church was encouraged to pray because that's what we're supposed to do. As Christians, our truth is always Jesus Christ and our prayer is that people will know him. And since we do know him, we are called to pray like he did even if that means praying on behalf of our enemies.

Yet the author of First Timothy, I think, struggled with what it meant to follow Jesus. He wanted to keep faith communities safe and so he encouraged them to not stand out. In the verses that follow today's reading, First Timothy spent a lot of time talking about women. He encouraged them to dress modestly, be silent, and not to have any authority over men. These were the standard cultural norms of the day, and the author believed that any deviation from that would make the Christian community a target. Yet this desire to stay hidden isn't a universal Biblical trait. There are times when following Jesus means we will stand out. We should never let the wider culture determine how we practice our faith. Instead, we should follow Jesus wherever he leads us. The call to follow and proclaim the good news is why, in 2020, the ELCA will celebrate the 50th anniversary of women's ordination in our church because we know that God doesn't want women to be silent. God wants all people to share the good news of Jesus. And that call to proclaim will always be at the heart of what the church does and will not be limited by what we think the wider culture says.

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What do we do with a God who changed? I realize that's a bit of a provocative statement because we believe (and I believe it too) that God does not change. Yet we are often confronted by a God, especially in the Hebrew Bible (Old Testament) who does change. In today's story from Exodus 32:1-14, God's mind is changed when confronted by Moses. The story began at Mount Sinai. After being rescued from slavery in Egypt, the Israelites encamped around the holy mountain. Moses went up the mountain to talk with God but stayed hidden in the clouds for a bit too long. With Moses gone for so long, the community grew nervous. They were in a land they were unfamiliar with and had no clear vision of where to go next. Moses gave them a sense that God was with them but that was now missing. The community needed some tangible connection with the divine. So in a moment of need, Aaron, God's high-priest and spokesperson, helped build a golden calf to be worshipped and celebrated. Moses, not knowing what had happened in the camp, was informed by God about the building of the idol. God, very abruptly, chose to renounce kingship over the community by calling the Israelites "Your [aka Moses'] people." The community turned away from God and deserved to be punished. God let Moses know that God's judgment was about to come.

Yet one of the interesting things about this text is also what it doesn't say. Although anger and wrath were mentioned, nowhere does the text explicitly say: "God's anger flared up." Instead, that phrase was reserved for their dialogue. It's implied but never fully stated that God was angry. What God does say, however, is for Moses to "let me alone." This command, at first, seemed simple enough. But God was probably using a bit of reverse psychology. God wanted Moses to ignore God's command. God wanted Moses to intervene and Moses did. Instead of accepting God's commitment to violence or God's invitation to clone Moses for the nation itself, Moses defended the people worshipping the idol below. The community that rebelled against God and often against Moses was the community Moses said God must protect. God’s promises were not directed towards perfect people. God's promises were made to the broken, the imperfect, and those who often fail. God's promises were, and still are, made to people just like us.

God, in the end, changed God's mind. God articulated a desire to Moses and then rescinded it. Moses stood up to God by reminding God of God's own character. God is faithful; God is slow to anger; God is love. God's own unchanging character means that God's mind will often be changed. God will offer forgiveness, grace, and mercy, before wrath and violence. God will keep God's promises because those promises are what's truly unchanging about God. So when we talk to God in our own prayers, sometimes the most faithful thing we can do is be a bit like Moses and remind God of the promises God has already made to us and to our world.

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400 years ago, the first ship with enslaved Africans landed in the English colony of Virginia. The number of men and women on that boat was small but they represented a system of slavery that continues to impact us today. The system would help build and enrich the original English colonies and the young United States. No part of our nation was untouched by slavery. Even our neighborhood in Northern New Jersey saw the effects of slavery first hand. This week it was reported in the Pascack Press about the discovery of a "Wampum Factory" that thrived in Park Ridge. Wampum were beads made out of shells that were considered sacred by various Native American communities. In the 18th and 19th century, the Park Ridge area took shells imported from the Caribbean and turned them into beads. This work was done not only by the employees of the factory; it was also done by enslaved persons of African descent. Slavery was not an institution that existed in places far from New Jersey. Slavery existed in our neighborhood as well. And, at its core, the system viewed people (especially African-descent people) as property.

Slavery was not a new idea 400 years ago. Even during the time of Jesus and Paul, the institution of slavery was very real. Neither Paul nor Jesus condemned the practice or demand its destruction. On some level, they seemed to accept slavery as part of the DNA of the world. As Christianity expanded throughout the Mediterranean and the Near East, all kinds of people started to follow Jesus. The social and cultural divisions between people found themselves challenged by a Jesus who united all. His church started to include not only the poor, and rich; it also included the enslaved and those who enslaved them.

Today's reading from Philemon 1:1-21 is centered in this tension. Philemon was a wealthy follower of Jesus who Paul knew well. One of Philemon's slaves, Onesimus, seems to have fled from Philemon and ran into Paul. During his time with Paul, Onesimus became a follower of Jesus. Paul wrote to Philemon, letting him know that he was sending Onesimus back to him. Philemon would be welcoming back a person he had legal power over. Onesimus was, in the eyes of the government, Philemon's property. But as a follower of Jesus, how should Philemon view Onesimus instead?

This is the question at the heart of Paul's letter to Philemon. As followers of Jesus, our relationships with each other must be transformed by the relationship we have with Jesus Christ. This relationship cannot see others as property, dirty, or different. It must be rooted in the love Jesus first gives each to us. This love is not easy nor is it always clear what this love looks like in our everyday life. But God's love must be at the heart of every relationship that we have.

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Today's reading from Hebrews 13:1-8, 15-16 follows what we heard last week. After describing God's power (aka God as a consuming fire), the author of Hebrews immediately followed with the line, "Let mutual love continue." These two thoughts, "for indeed our God is a consuming fire" (12:29) and "Let mutual love continue" are jarring when read next to each other. Neither passage seems to relate to the other. Some scholars believe that this disconnect between the two chapters shows us that chapter 13 wasn't originally part of the letter to the Hebrews. But since we do not have any copies of this letter without chapter 13, we cannot confirm or deny this theory. What we can do, however, is admit that chapter 12 and chapter 13 do not flow into each other. There is a separation between these two chapters that leaves us feeling out of sorts. Yet this separation might help us understand one of the major themes of the letter. The author of Hebrews wrote to a community struggling with their faith. Individuals within the church had stopped attending worship. Some were no longer praying for each other. The community felt stuck and was starting to fall apart. People were feeling distant from one another. That separation within the community is matched by the separation we see in chapter 12 and 13. The community struggled to see the value of faith and their life together was suffering because of it.

When viewed through this lens, chapter 13 becomes a plea for people to act like they care for one another. This care does not depend on how we feel about each other. Rather, we care because we are included in God's history with God's people. Through our baptism, we are grafted onto the old story of God dealing faithfully with all people. These people are identified in the Hebrew Scriptures (aka the Old Testament) and in the stories of the faith-filled people around us. All people within this community are people who wrapped up in the story God is already telling. We love, care, and serve each other because Jesus, through the Cross, has loved and served us. Our life as a community should resemble the life Christ lived.

And one way this life looks like is through the sharing of power. In the words of Rev. Timothy Adkins-Johns, "following a Savior [who] has been defined throughout [Hebrews] by the sacrifice that he represents for us all, [so] we are called then to join in the sacrifice of our own position in order to build relationships." Mutual love is about realizing the power we have and making sacrifices to empower those around us. Only when we are honest about who we are and what we have can we truly discover what we can offer And what we offer does not depend on what others actually do or believe. Rather, we give because Jesus has already loved us and the Jesus we follow is bigger than only the present moment. Since "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever," we are called to be a community that lives like Jesus always mattered.

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For the last two weeks, we've met a God of fire. Today's reading from Hebrews 12:18-29  begins by describing how Moses met on Mt. Sinai but it doesn't stay there. By the end, we've moved on to the heavenly Jerusalem, Jesus, and how "our God is a consuming fire." A God who is fire is a bit scary. Like I said last week, we are way more comfortable with a God who is love, mercy, and forgiveness. We don't usually like to say that God is fire because fire, to us, burns. Fire can be scary. Our technology has gotten so advanced; we don't usually notice the fire that's around us. But in Jesus' time, fire was always present. The night was illumined by the flames from candles and torches. Food was cooked in ovens heated by open fires. Blacksmith shops and jewelers used super- heated fire to refine metal into something more whole and pure. Fire was, and still is, dangerous. But fire, in Jesus' time, defined was a visible part of everyday life. The fire around him did more than destroy or cause harm. Instead, it gave light, warmth, and food to the community. A God who was all consuming wasn't only burning things up. God was also refining people into something new. The God would could shake mountains is the same God who has consumed you. And, in the process, God is already shaping you into who you are meant to be.

Today's passage has been used to push aside or downplay the Jewish experience. It begins with comments about Moses meeting God at Mt. Sinai and then points to our meeting Jesus in the new Jerusalem. Our instinct might be to try and compare the two experiences but I don't think we have to. I'm not sure if the author of Hebrews is trying to say that one experience is better than the other. Instead, it's possible that the author was trying to remind the people he was speaking to (who were mostly not Jewish) that they have already met God. In baptism, in worship, and in the love we share with each other, that's how we see and experience Jesus Christ. We might want or desire a moment like Moses had on Mt. Sinai but we have, through the ordinary experience of church, already met Jesus himself. It isn't only those big and over-the-top experiences of God that shape, form, and refine us. It's also the little moments, the mundane one we don't even recognize as moments, that make us who we are. You have already met Jesus and he's already become a part of your life. And since that's true, that means when people meet you, they're meeting Jesus too. That is one of the gifts and challenges of our baptism. We are, through Jesus, united with him and his entire community. But that also means that we are the primary medium through whom people meet Jesus. You are, by baptism, connected with the God that can shake heaven itself. And that connection also means that, with the help of the Holy Spirit, the love, grace, and mercy you share can move mountains too.

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Today's reading from the book of Hebrews 11:29-12:2 continues what we heard last week. The author of this letter was trying to encourage the faith of a struggling church community. When the church was new, the members within it had shown great love for each other. But now, as the church grew older, some members of the community were struggling with their faith and others had stopped attending. The confidence of the community was drifting, and they were trying to figure out what to do next.

The writer, after spending last week retelling the story of Abraham and Sarah, turned to share other stories from the Bible. We hear of the Exodus, when Moses led the Israelite people out of enslavement in Egypt. We relived the moment when the city of Jericho was captured. We meet Rahab who violated the law of her city to protect some Israelite spies. Her faithfulness to God was remembered and her name included in Jesus' genealogy. The writer continued, name dropping people the community knew. They pointed to Biblical stories but also stories from their local context. We're not sure who the author was referring to when they mentioned people who were stoned, killed and harmed for their faith. But we can, I think, assume the community knew who they were. The writer mixed the Biblical story and the community's story to remind everyone that they were part of something so much bigger than themselves.

When you look at the story of your own faith, I am going to invite you to remember every part of it. You shouldn't be ashamed of any doubts you've had or questions. You should admit those times you stepped away from church and those times when you came back. Being faithful isn't always easy, and we can struggle to see God in the midst of everything we're going through. Yet you are also part of a story that is bigger than yourself. Your faith is intertwined with a faith story that began thousands of years ago. The God who never gave up on the Israelite people is the same God who will never give up on you. Your faith story matters. Your faith story makes a difference. And you might be surprised to know that your faith isn't only for yourself. Rather, your faith also inspires others to love God. Your faith, right now, is helping others see Jesus a little more clearly because you are also part of the great cloud of witnesses.

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