Introduction

I am sure I am not the only one here who has been hearing, almost daily, new and different news about Artificial Intelligence (AI).

And I am probably not the only one here who is concerned about both the speed at which it is changing, and the sudden pervasiveness of AI into our ever-changing world.
​
AI is not just something happening online – it has become a part of life in many other ways as well.
 
I have not dabbled in AI much myself – I have not succumbed to using ChatGPT, for example.
 
But, I do know that some of my pastoral colleagues have begun using it to aid in writing their sermons.
 
I was at dinner with two of my friends and I mentioned that I was invited to write an article for the Canada Lutheran monthly newsletter.
 
My friends suggested I start by putting the prompt into ChatGPT and seeing what it said, and then editing it from there.
 
That made me uneasy.
 
I asked how they felt knowing that so many things could so easily be written using AI, up to and including full length novels.
 
Neither of them seemed to be bothered by that. One friend said that when you go to publish something, you have to state to what extent you used AI.
 
This concerns me, and I’m not sure if I am just resistant, or if I have good reasons to be concerned.
 
I feel like my reasons are pretty good. The primary reason it concerns me is because it gives me a bad gut feeling.
 
I could make all kinds of logical arguments based on articles I’ve read and studies that have been done thus far, but at the end of the day, my gut just tells me I should feel uneasy about this new technology.
 
This isn’t even something I can really wonder what Jesus would have thought about it, because he could not have even conceptualized what we are talking about.
 
How could we possibly know how Jesus might feel about the pervasiveness of AI?
 
I suspect that we will, very soon (and I’m sure it’s happening already), be having deep conversations on a global level about the ethics, safety, and potential damage that AI could cause.
 
My inclination thus far has been to mostly ignore its existence. Yes, I’ve used the AI feature that Google now has when I look something up online.
 
But, I have not used AI to create anything yet.
 
As we move forward with this technology, however, I feel like I need to stop ignoring it and at least start educating myself a bit on it.
 
So today, I thought we would try an experiment.
 
I have composed two short sermons.
 
One of them I wrote myself as I usually do. And the other one, I used ChatGPT.
 
Here is the deal though.
 
On the one I wrote myself, I did my best to write as I usually do. However, I left out any personal stories that would easily clue you in that I wrote it.
 
On the one I asked ChatGPT to write, I made NO changes. I am preaching it exactly as it was written.
 
Your task is to determine which sermon I wrote, and which one AI wrote.
 
There are feedback forms and pens in the baskets at the end of each row.
 
After the service is over, please note on a piece of paper which sermon you think I wrote, and which sermon you think ChatGPT wrote. You may also wish to offer feedback about the sermons or a reason why you think I wrote one or didn’t write one.
 
Next week, I will not be here. David Jones will be preaching in my place.
 
But the following week, I would like to follow up on this week’s experiment. So, bear with me as we hear two short sermons, one on each of the readings for today.
 
Message #1 on Hebrews 13: 1-8, 15-16
 
“Keep being concerned about each other.”
 
That’s how Hebrews 13 starts out. Everything after that line is essentially a set of reminders about what that might mean.
 
First, the passage reminds us to welcome strangers into our home.
 
Interestingly though, the reason is not out of charity, pity, or even motivation to get into heaven.
 
The reason is even simpler than that. By welcoming strangers into your home, you may end up meeting an angel, without even knowing it.
 
In other words, by offering the stranger a gift, you may end up receiving a gift yourself in that other person.
 
There are many times in our lives when we meet someone who unexpectedly changes our life, even if that chance encounter is very brief.
 
I am sure many of you could think of examples of people who have impacted your own life in this way.
 
The second reminder offered in Hebrews 13 is to “remember the Lord’s people who are in jail and be concerned for them.”
 
In fact, “imagine you are there with them.”
 
Rather than pitying them, judging them, or blaming them, be in solidarity with them. Take on the suffering of others as your own.
 
This reminder goes beyond the hospitality of welcoming the stranger. It is, indeed, the most radical kind of sharing and hospitality.
 
Another reminder from this passage is arguably the most important.
 
“Don’t fall in love with money. Be satisfied with what you have.”
 
It seems the more money we have, the harder we work to protect it.
 
Instead of inviting the stranger into our home, we may decline because we are concerned that they might steal from us, for example.
 
Instead of being concerned for others, we may become more concerned for ourselves and the things we have.
 
And of course, the more money we have, the more we seem to want.
 
It’s no longer hoping to have enough to get by, survive, or even thrive. It becomes a question of accumulating more.
 
And it’s not just money. It’s more often the things money can buy.
 
This becomes harder to avoid in our current world.
 
In the world of Jesus, many people had very little money. Life looked quite different.
 
But today, our society is set up such that we are not only encouraged but we are almost forced to accumulate more money and more wealth.
 
We are told in many ways that we must have money to be something in this world. And we believe it.
 
But Hebrews goes on to remind us that “Jesus Christ never changes! He is the same yesterday, today, and forever.”
 
So even in a changing and evolving world where money and power are “king,” Jesus remains steady, constant, reliable, and available to us.
 
The sacrifice we must make is to “keep offering gratitude and praise to God in the name of Jesus.” Help others and share your possessions with them, but don’t forget the role of Jesus in our lives.
 
Jesus never changes.
 
Whether we are welcoming a stranger, in jail ourselves, or in solidarity with those who are, Jesus remains constant.
 
Whether we have fallen in love with money or we are satisfied with what we have, Jesus remains constant.
 
Jesus is available to us and loves us day in and day out, forever.
 
So, are we ready to make the sacrifice?
 
Are we ready to keep offering praise to God in the name of Jesus?
 
Perhaps more importantly, are we ready to help others and share our possessions with them, or does that still make us a little uncomfortable?
 
These are the questions this passage is asking us to reflect on.
 
As we leave today, may we consider these questions and wonder together if we are ready to do what is being asked of us.
 
And in doing so, we are called to remember that Jesus is right there with us. Jesus never changes, even as we do. Amen.
 
And, our second sermon today will be on our second reading from Luke 14. Let’s begin:
 
Message #2 on Luke 14: 1, 7-14
 
There’s a powerful lesson in our passage from Luke 14 that speaks not only about the heart of God but also about how we are to live our lives—about humility, hospitality, and grace.
 
Let’s dive in.
 
In Luke 14, we find Jesus at a banquet. But this wasn’t just any ordinary dinner.
 
Jesus had been invited to the house of a Pharisee. 
 
Now, banquets in those days weren’t like the casual gatherings we’re used to. They were social events—chances for people to show off their status and influence.
 
They were often attended by those with wealth and power, and the seating arrangements?
 
Oh, those were carefully arranged. Everyone had a place that spoke to their rank in society.
 
In verse 7, Jesus observes something about the guests: “When he noticed how the guests picked the places of honor at the table, he told them this parable...”
 
You see, these people were all vying for the best seat in the house. And it’s not hard to understand why.
 
In their culture, the seat closest to the host was the seat of honor. It meant you were valued, respected, and probably on the winning side of life. It was a sign that you mattered.
 
But Jesus, ever the teacher, used this moment to flip the whole idea on its head.
 
He tells them, “When someone invites you to a wedding feast, do not take the place of honor, for a person more distinguished than you may have been invited.”
 
I can just imagine the guests sitting there, a bit uncomfortable.
 
Jesus was talking about something deep—something more than table manners.
 
He was challenging their pride and their preoccupation with status.
 
Now, let’s pause for a moment and think about our own lives. We live in a world where we are constantly told that status matters.
 
Who are you connected to? How much do you have? How high can you climb the social ladder? 
 
These are the questions we’re faced with every day, whether we’re conscious of it or not.
 
But Jesus doesn’t stop at pointing out the issue.
 
He offers a radical solution: “But when you are invited, take the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he will say to you, ‘Friend, move up to a better place.’”
 
Now, this isn’t about false humility or pretending to be less than we are. It’s about understanding that in the kingdom of God, things don’t work the way they do in the world.
 
In God’s kingdom, honor doesn’t come from our achievements or our status—it comes from humility.
 
And here’s the kicker: “For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”
 
Jesus is telling us that the true way up is the way down.
 
If we want to be great in God’s eyes, we have to be willing to serve, to love, and to put others before ourselves.
 
Now, let’s talk about hospitality for a moment because Jesus doesn’t stop with the guests.
 
In verses 12-14, he turns to the host and says, “When you give a luncheon or dinner, do not invite your friends, your brothers or sisters, your relatives, or your rich neighbors; if you do, they may invite you back and so you will be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed.”
 
This is an invitation to radically rethink who we welcome into our lives and our homes.
 
It’s so easy to love those who love us, right? It’s easy to be kind to those who can return the favor. 
 
But Jesus challenges us to go further—invite those who can’t repay us, those who are marginalized or forgotten. The ones who need grace the most.
 
It’s like Jesus is saying, “Don’t just love the ones who can help you climb the ladder. Love the ones at the bottom. That’s where you’ll find the heart of God.”
 
And that’s what we’re called to do as followers of Christ.
 
We’re called to a radical hospitality that goes beyond social norms and expectations.
 
We’re called to humility that doesn’t seek the best seat, but instead, is content with the lowest, the one that serves others, the one that says, “It’s not about me.”
 
So, as we reflect on this passage, I want us to ask ourselves some hard questions today.
 
Who are we inviting to our table?
 
Who are we elevating in our lives?
 
Is it just the people who can do something for us, or are we willing to look beyond that and show love to those who can’t return the favor?
 
How do we approach status in our own lives?
 
Are we willing to humble ourselves and take the low place, knowing that our worth doesn’t come from what others think of us but from the love of God?
 
And finally, how can we live with humility and compassion in our everyday relationships—whether at work, at home, or with strangers?
 
We are called to reflect the heart of Christ, who humbled himself, took the lowly place, and invited us to the table.
 
In conclusion, the table that Jesus invites us to isn’t about seeking glory for ourselves.
 
It’s a table where we humbly serve, where we extend grace to others, and where we learn that true greatness comes from serving those around us.
 
Let us be a people who, like Jesus, turn the world’s values upside down.
 
Let’s be the kind of people who sit at the lowest seat, lift others up, and make room at the table for all who need it. Amen.
 
Let us pray:
 
God of abundance, we invite you to walk with us as we encounter a world that is ever-changing, sometimes faster than we can keep up with. We ask that you would humble us before you and before others such that we can offer grace to our neighbours, friends, family, and strangers we meet. In your holy and loving name we pray, Amen.

Young at Heart Message
 
Imagine for a moment that you are sharing a Christmas Day meal with your family.
Suddenly, you start to feel your chest tightening. Your left arm starts to tingle, and you begin sweating.
Someone in your family recognizes the signs of a heart attack, so they call 911.
 
But when the line connects, there’s simply a voice message that says “we’re sorry, all of our operators are enjoying the Christmas holiday with their families. If you need an ambulance, please call the nearest ambulance service directly.”
 
Annoyed, and slightly panicked, your family member quickly googles the nearest ambulance and phones them directly. Once again, the message states that they are taking the day off to enjoy the holiday.
 
So, a family member ushers you quickly to their own vehicle and rushes you to the hospital themselves.
 
But… you guessed it. You arrive, and there’s a sign on the emergency room door saying that it’s a holiday, and no one should have to work on Christmas Day. Please come back tomorrow.
 
Obviously, if you are having a heart attack, waiting until tomorrow isn’t a great plan.
 
And, of course, this scenario isn’t realistic today.
 
But, on the other hand, if we took the Law of Moses as seriously as the man in charge of the synagogue did, this would be the expectation.
 
Today, we live in a world that has become quite lax on the “rules” around Sabbath days.
 
Christmas Day may be the only day of the year when nearly everything is closed.
 
But even then, you can still get emergency services if you need them.
 
You can still fly, or go to the movies, and some grocery stores and gas stations are still open for the essentials.
 
On any other day of the year, you can access pretty much anything you need.
 
Some people adhere pretty strictly to a Sabbath day, but most are willing and able to be flexible, and many people don’t even take a regular “Sabbath” day.
 
Nowadays, what qualifies as “work” can even be called into question.
 
Parents who work all week still have to parent on the weekends. They can’t just take Sunday off from the work of parenting.
 
Pastors don’t ever get Sundays off of work. Most of us try to take another regular day for Sabbath rest, but even then, it is harder than you might think.
 
A day “off” from work, for many people, still looks like work.
 
Instead of going to the office, though, people get all the errands and chores done that they don’t have time for during the week.
 
Even Jesus recognized that when he said “won’t any one of you untie your ox or donkey and lead it out to drink on a Sabbath?”
 
Jesus is being a bit snarky there, because he’s begging the question, “how do you define work?”
 
Most of the people he was talking with wouldn’t have considered leading the ox to water to be work.
 
It’s just something that must be done for survival.
 
Much like getting water from the well, washing dishes after using them, eating, or even, one could argue, getting out of bed.
 
Yesterday, I got up relatively early for a Saturday, made breakfast, packed a bag, and drove to Bragg Creek to hike.
 
While I enjoy that tremendously, there is still a level of work that must be done to accomplish that.
 
The point here is this: in the mind of the leader of the synagogue, the definition of Sabbath and work is very clear-cut – it’s very black and white. There is no grey area.
 
But Jesus, as we see in this passage, muddies the water by demonstrating very clearly that it is not as black and white as everyone thinks it should be.
 
The Message
​
Jesus isn’t making a statement saying that Sabbath is unimportant.
 
He also isn’t saying that the rules are unimportant or should never be followed. He isn’t implying that the Law of Moses should be completely thrown out.
 
But he is making it clear that there is often grey area and room for flexibility within the rulebook.
 
And part of Jesus’ ability to understand the world in shades of grey is because of his ability to empathize with people.
 
Jesus couldn’t imagine letting this woman who had already suffered for 18 years suffer a moment longer.
 
He could have said “I’m sorry, I can see that you are in pain, but today is the Sabbath. I can heal you, but you’ll have to wait until tomorrow. Since you’ve dealt with this for 18 years already, one more day won’t kill you.”
 
In the time it would have taken to say that to her, he could have just healed her.
 
So why wouldn’t he? Because the Law of Moses says no work can be done on the Sabbath?
 
Jesus couldn’t look her in the face and deny her healing simply because it was the Sabbath.
 
The leader of the synagogue pushed back on Jesus, though. He became angry and tried to get the crowd on his side.
 
The man believed with his entire being that he was right, and Jesus was wrong.
 
That’s what he’d been taught his entire life. And, as the leader of the synagogue, it was his job – his livelihood and his life’s work – to uphold the Law of Moses.
 
How could he do his work and live his life if he was constantly questioning the Law? His faith depended on wholeheartedly believing he was right to uphold the Law.
 
And I can understand where he’s coming from, at least in part.
 
There have been times in my life when I knew, categorically, that I was right.
 
In my younger years, as is often true for many of us, I had a set of beliefs that I am sure involved me being right and everyone who didn’t agree with me being wrong.
 
There is an element of survival that comes along with this mentality.
 
Father Richard Rohr argues that there are two halves to our lives. The first half is the part that we spend building the container for our life.
 
We hold very solid, black and white beliefs during the first half of life because we must have a solid foundation to build the container.
 
And then, we spend the second half of our lives searching for the contents to fill the container. This process of searching often means we discover that things were not as black and white as we spent the first half of life believing.
 
Similarly, Cynthia Bourgeault describes the concept by saying, “the journey toward full selfhood is more than just awakening; it involves a letting go that is also a dying.”
 
In both cases, we are talking about letting go of at least some of our black and white thinking to allow for more grey areas.
 
The longer I do the work of being a pastor, the more I see how grey the world really is.
 
Unfortunately, this often involves meeting people who have very different experiences than I do before I will change my mind or expand my thinking.
 
As an example, I know multiple pastors who really struggled with the idea that we should be open in our churches to members of the LGBTQ+ community.
 
And those same pastors became more open to the idea when they were pushed by their very own children.
 
Several of those pastors ended up with children who experienced the world very differently than their parents.
 
These pastors were then faced with a choice: continue their black and white thinking and disown their children, or expand their thinking to accept grey areas and continue to love their children and grow with them into something new.
 
This, I believe, is the dying that Cynthia Bourgeault was talking about.
 
This passage today gives us insights that go far beyond the face value of the scenario Jesus encountered.
 
Jesus heals the woman who was stooped over, allowing her to both physically and metaphorically see the world in an entirely new way.
 
She can physically stand taller, but she also recognizes the grace that Jesus offered her that day.
 
At the same time, the synagogue leader is humbled by Jesus.
 
He physically and metaphorically stood tall, and Jesus humbled him enough that he was, at least metaphorically, stooped over a bit after this interaction.
 
And the reality is that we, too, are always being simultaneously stooped down and lifted up.
 
But what does it mean for us to be both uplifted in glory and stooped down in humility?
 
It may mean letting go of our deeply held convictions about the right way to worship or vote or live.
 
It may mean that we instead listen for the whisperings of the Spirit—even if that whispering comes in the voice of someone we don’t like or don’t understand.
 
It may mean changing our perspective so that the person we regarded as an enemy now looks like a child of God.
 
It may mean putting ourselves in someone else’s shoes before we are forced to because it’s someone we personally know.
 
Too often, we don’t change our minds or open ourselves to the possibility of grey areas until someone forces us to.
 
The pastors I know who weren’t truly confronted with trying to understand the LGBTQ+ community until their own children forced them to confront their biases fall into this category.
 
But Jesus is asking us to look within and question our own biases – our own ideas of how the world works and our own notions of black and white, right and wrong.
 
And, he’s suggesting we do this on an ongoing basis – before we are forced to because we directly encounter someone who calls our biases out.
 
He’s not suggesting we throw out the rule book completely. But he is suggesting that when we are confronted with a greyness that we do not fully understand, we take a step back and wonder with God about it.
 
Is there some growing we need to do? Do we need to open our mind to new possibilities?
 
Do we need to look someone in the eye and say, “I see you, even though the world tells me I should not?”
 
Jesus is pushing us a little bit with this passage, just like he was pushing the leader of the synagogue, and indeed the crowd of people watching him.
 
What if we let him push us beyond our own current understanding?
 
Perhaps, instead of holding fast to our biases, we could allow Jesus to help us recognize our biases as opportunities for growth and deeper understanding of other people and the world around us.
 
So, as we leave here today, may we allow ourselves to be simultaneously stooped down in humility and lifted up in grace.
 
May we question our black and white thinking, and be open to the beauty of the spectrum of shades of grey. Amen.
 
Let us pray:
 
Healing God, thank you for your loving kindness and your gentle nudges that encourage us to grow and lean into newness and wholeness. Thank you for sending your Son, Jesus Christ, to guide us and help us learn the lessons you wish us to better understand. We are often simultaneously stooped down in humility and lifted up in grace. Open our hearts to better humble ourselves and open us to your grace. In your loving name we pray. Amen.

​Young at Heart Message
 
When I created this week’s bulletin, I thought I would preach on the passage from Luke.
 
But, as the week went on and I began working on my sermon, I changed my mind and decided instead to continue our topic from last week on faith.
 
Today we heard a continuation of the “Hall of Faith” passage from Hebrews, and I think it’s worth continuing that discussion.
 
Earlier this week, I had my monthly Zoom call with my Spiritual Companioning group.
 
This month, it was my turn to lead the group, and I decided to do a Lectio Divina (Divine Reading) of one of my favorite prayers.
 
I’m sure I’ve shared the prayer with you before, but just so we are all on the same page, I’ll read the prayer for you now.
 
This is called “Patient Trust” by Pierre Teilhard de Chardin.
 
Above all, trust in the slow work of God.
We are quite naturally impatient in everything to reach the end without delay.
We should like to skip the intermediate stages.
We are impatient of being on the way to something unknown, something new.
And yet it is the law of all progress
that it is made by passing through some stages of instability--
and that it may take a very long time.
 
And so I think it is with you;
your ideas mature gradually—let them grow,
let them shape themselves, without undue haste.
Don’t try to force them on,
as though you could be today what time
(that is to say, grace and circumstances acting on your own good will)
will make of you tomorrow.
 
Only God could say what this new spirit
gradually forming within you will be.
Give Our Lord the benefit of believing
that his hand is leading you,
and accept the anxiety of feeling yourself
in suspense and incomplete. Amen.
 
The process for the Lectio Divina that we used was that I would read the prayer through twice, and then we took 10 minutes of silence to ponder the prayer, re-read it ourselves, and journal any thoughts that came to mind.
 
Now, I have read this prayer many times since I began seminary.
 
In fact, I used the prayer as the basis for my Credo that I had to write for ordination.
 
And yet, this opportunity to re-read the prayer and do the Lectio Divina allowed me to gain something new from the prayer that I had never thought about before.
 
In the past, I was more focused on the patience piece.
 
I read the prayer as a reminder that I needed to slow down, be patient with God, and recognize that many things I wanted in life came in time.
 
But this time when I read it, I really felt compelled to think about these lines specifically:
 
We are quite naturally impatient in everything to reach the end without delay.
We should like to skip the intermediate stages.
And yet it is the law of all progress that it is made by passing through some stages of instability -
And that it may take a very long time.
 
I realized as I read these lines that this is an incredibly deep insight about human nature.
 
How often do we want to just get to the end result without having to go through the intermediate stages?
 
And yet, we also often learn the most from those very same intermediate stages we hope to skip.
 
I’ll give you an example, which I think is also a very useful metaphor for this concept.
 
As most of you know, I ran a full marathon back in May.
And, I crossed the finish line! Yay!
 
It was an amazing experience to be able to cross that finish line. But, the entire time I was training, even though I knew the training was what would ultimately get me over that finish line, all I really wanted was to cross the finish line.
 
I was impatient to get to that exact point.
 
But, do you know what I will remember more than crossing the finish line?
 
I will never forget the amount of work and training it took to get me there.
 
And, from the moment I crossed that finish line, I have been working on how I could improve for the next one.
 
I have been fiddling with my running schedule, my nutrition plan, the time of day I run, and I’ve been reading a ton of training advice.
 
And this time, even though I’m looking forward to crossing the finish line again next year, I am not as impatient to get there, because I now know that the best part of running a marathon is actually the determination, the grit, the motivation, the pain, the endurance, and the journey that happens before I ever reach race day.
 
I learned a lot about myself, what my body could and couldn’t handle, and, perhaps more importantly, what my mind could and couldn’t handle during the training journey.
 
And, while the training was a journey in itself, I also realized that I forgot to enjoy the intermediate stages of the race itself on race day.
 
I started that race, and immediately just wanted to be done.
 
5 hours and 11 minutes is a long time to be running, and I was so concerned with finishing that I forgot to appreciate and enjoy some of the elements of the race itself that were important.
 
The comradery of other runners, the volunteers that made that race happen, the police officers that ensured a safe race, and all the other elements that went into the race were things I never even considered on the day of the event.
 
There were so many people who were there simply to cheer runners on.
 
Someone handed me a popsicle at one point, which was an incredible gift.
Near the end of the race, a woman put a bracelet on my arm which I’ve worn every day since the race.
 
The bracelet says “You Got This,” which helped me get through the run, but it also applies to many other aspects of life.
 
The point here is that I was so concerned about getting to the finish line that I forgot, at least in the moment, to enjoy the race itself.
 
And, truthfully, I forgot to appreciate and enjoy the training leading up to the race too, even though it was months of work.
 
Unfortunately, this has happened more often that I would like to admit.
 
This same thing can be said about almost every other big thing I have accomplished in my life.
 
Teilhard de Chardin knew this, and he wasn’t wrong:
 
We are quite naturally impatient in everything to reach the end without delay.
We should like to skip the intermediate stages.
And yet it is the law of all progress that it is made by passing through some stages of instability -
And that it may take a very long time.
 
The Message

So where does that leave us with regard to today’s scripture?

Well, I think the marathon example actually tells us an awful lot about faith.

Without faith that I would actually be able to cross the finish line, I would not have spent the countless hours training, I can tell you that.

It’s insane to run over 21 kilometers in one go every week!

And yet, I had faith that doing so would ultimately get me to that finish line.

I cannot tell you how many times I asked myself what the point was, or how many times I had to remind myself to trust the process.

It would have been easier to quit, but that would have meant giving up faith in myself that I could in fact do it.

We see something very similar in our “Hall of Faith” reading today.

The Hebrew people crossing the Red Sea had tremendous faith in God that God would help them get across that sea safely.

I guarantee they were impatient to get to the other side.

But they could not possibly have accomplished that end without a deep faith and trust in God, and without going through the “intermediate stages” of putting one foot in front of the other as the walls of water rose on either side of them, ready to drown them at any moment.

Likewise, the passage talks about people who went through some horribly difficult things – torture, mocking, flogging, and even chains and imprisonment.

They wandered in deserts and mountains and caves and holes in the ground.

And I guarantee they were impatient to reach the end – but for some of them, they weren’t sure what that end would be. Perhaps simply an end to the struggle would have been sufficient in some cases.

But they had to go through those stages of difficulty in order to ultimately reach the goal.

The Hebrews passage ends by saying “let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus.”

Even this passage likes the metaphor of running a race to demonstrate that we must endure the race itself, including all of the preparation leading up to it, as part of the journey before we can reach the end.

The author knew that enduring the race often means enduring physical, emotional, or mental pain and anguish.

It means experiencing fear, uncertainty, doubt, anger, frustration, hopelessness, and perhaps even a lack of faith.

But it also means putting one foot in front of the other, continuing to move forward, and overcoming all those challenging emotions if we want to progress past that stage of the journey.

So there is no use in being impatient as we endure the hard parts of the journey.

We forget that crossing that finish line is so much more than the few seconds at the very end.

This applies to almost everything we do in life.

In order to reach the goal – the end result or the finish line – of whatever it is we are impatient for, we must journey through the intermediate stages.

And in doing so, we learn a lot about ourselves, about those we love, about life, and about God.

Our faith is often tested in the intermediate stages, and so is our patience.

But persevering and slowing down to look around as we embark on the journey is just as important, if not more important, than reaching the final destination.

As is often said, life is a marathon, not a sprint!

So, may you carry a deep faith with you in all you do, and may you practice patience and enjoy the journey.

May you have end goals in mind, but may you invite God to journey with you to get there, and may you become more aware of the lessons you can learn from the intermediate stages.

And, as Teilhard de Chardin so eloquently and accurately states, may you “accept the anxiety of feeling yourself in suspense and incomplete.”

Amen.
​
Let us pray:
 
Loving and gracious God, you are always patient with us, and yet we often forget that we must also be patient with you. Help us not only to be patient, but also help us to appreciate the journey. Whether it’s a short-term journey toward an end goal, or the journey of life, help us to slow down, be grateful, and perhaps even appreciate the challenges and joys of the “intermediate stages” along our paths. Above all, help us to trust in your slow work in our lives. In your holy and gracious name we pray. Amen.

​And I’m sure there’s tons more examples we could find.
 
Sometimes, a Hall of Fame is a physical place you can go, but often, a Hall of Fame is just a list of award winners over the years. This is especially true for smaller organizations.
 
Today’s scripture reading is often referred to as the “Faith Hall of Fame,” or the “Hall of Faith” because it refers to characters in the Hebrew Bible who had tremendous faith.
 
But this begs the question… what exactly IS faith?
 
Faith is belief and trust in God, despite the fact that we can’t actually see God, or experience God in the same way that we experience other human beings.
 
But, there are lots of things we can’t see but still know exist.
 
Can you see the wind?
 
Not really.
 
But we know wind exists because we can see the leaves moving on the trees, we can feel it on our skin or in our hair, and we can hear it as it hits objects in its path.
 
Can we see the air we breathe?
 
Not really, unless it’s very cold, but even then, we really just see the air we breathe out.
 
We can see particles in the air, like when there is a lot of smoke, but we can’t actually see the air.
 
And yet, we hold deep faith in the scientists who tell us that air exists. We trust it’s there because we can breathe.
 
And, what about God? Can we see a physical God?
 
No, we can’t. There are a lot of images of God out in the world, but none of us can actually see God the person.
 
And yet, we can experience God by other means.
 
Sometimes, we can’t see things that we know are there, or that we know exist in the world.
For example, I have never seen a moose in the wild, but I have faith that they exist. You all have told me they do, and some of you have actually seen a moose in the wild.
 
So, either you all have created an elaborate lie to fool this silly American, or moose do exist in the wild even though I’ve never seen them.
 
And our faith in God can work in similar ways.
 
We may not be able to see God, or hear God, or touch or smell or taste God.
 
But we can experience God in other ways.
 
What are some of the ways we can experience God even though we can’t see a physical God?
 
The Message
 
So, ultimately, faith is a belief and trust in God even though we aren’t able to see God in the way we see other humans.
 
Our scripture passage today says that “faith makes us sure of what we hope for and gives us proof of what we cannot see… because of our faith, we know that the world was made at God’s command. We also know that what can be seen was made out of what cannot be seen.”
 
That’s an important line right there: what can be seen was made out of what cannot be seen.
 
We know this is true from a scientific perspective, for sure.
 
Air, for example, is made out of molecules that are proven to exist, but cannot be seen.
 
Every object is made from compounds and molecules that we cannot see, and yet, the object itself exists in our world.
 
Even we are made from a combination of molecules that form each of us uniquely.
 
So, it is not that far of a stretch to have faith in a God we cannot see, and to believe that the God we cannot see created all that we can see.
 
This passage from Hebrews gives us numerous examples of people who, because of their faith, became heroes in our stories about God, faith, trust, and hope.
 
These people believed in and followed God, some of them almost to their own detriment.
 
Abraham’s faith was so strong that he almost sacrificed his son for God.
 
Now, I’m not advocating human sacrifice, and I do wonder about a God that would insist on such a thing, but the point in that story is that Abraham had such a deep trust in God that when God tested his faith, he was willing to follow through even though what he was being asked was extremely difficult. 
 
The people mentioned in this passage believed in God’s promises and trusted that following God would result in great things, even if not in that exact moment.
 
They held a deep faith that God would take care of them, even though sometimes they suffered in their lives.
 
Their suffering did not imply that God did not care about them or love them, nor did it cause them to give up on God.
 
They suffered – as we all do because we are human – and still maintained their steadfast faith and trust that God would protect, provide, and deliver on God’s promises.
 
So how does this translate for us in our own lives?
 
We all suffer. Perhaps we can look at our lives and believe that we suffer less than other people do.
 
But that does not mean that we do not suffer.
 
And yet, despite whatever we suffer through – whether it is momentary discomfort, a short-lived problem, or a chronic, long-term suffering that we must endure forever – we can maintain our faith that God will protect, provide, and deliver on God’s promises.
 
Perhaps we won’t see the immediate delivery of those things the moment we ask. But if we maintain our faith, God will fulfill God’s promises.
 
They don’t always look the way we think they will look, though.
 
And that is not always easy!
 
For example, what if I asked God for something seemingly simple and silly, like helping me get better at chess so that I could win more often.
 
Well, these kinds of things don’t tend to happen immediately. So maybe I play chess for 10 more years, and I start to notice eventually that I win more than I lose.
 
Perhaps by then, I’ve completely forgotten my prayer to God, and yet, God has answered!
 
Maybe it doesn’t seem like it, because it took so long, and I’d probably forgotten about my prayer completely at that point.
 
But just because I didn’t perceive that my prayer was being answered doesn’t mean it wasn’t, it just wasn’t on the timeline I would have preferred.
 
And, poor God! I likely wouldn’t even thank God because I’d forgotten that I prayed to get better at chess in the first place.
 
Which makes me wonder, actually, how many prayers I’ve lifted that have eventually been answered, just perhaps not in the way I expected or imagined, and I’ve completely missed the gratitude piece because I didn’t realize the prayer had been answered!
 
Regardless, the point is, through whatever suffering we might endure, we must hold onto our faith that God works in our lives in so many different ways.
 
This reminds me of the story behind the song “It Is Well with My Soul.”
 
The hymn was written by Horatio Spafford after a series of devastating personal tragedies.
 
Spafford, a successful Chicago lawyer, faced financial ruin due to the Great Chicago Fire and then the deaths of his four daughters in a shipwreck.
 
While traveling to meet his grieving wife, he passed over the site of the sinking and was inspired to write the hymn.
 
The lyrics express profound sorrow alongside unwavering faith in God's peace.
 
I know Spafford wasn’t a character in the Bible, but he could be added to the “Hall of Faith” for maintaining his faith in God despite his tremendous and profound suffering.
 
So, may we maintain “hall of fame” level faith.
 
Even as we experience small or significant suffering, may we remain steadfast in our trust and faith in God.
 
May we remember that God loves us always – in our deepest sorrow and our most profound and glorious joy.
 
Amen.
 
Let us pray:
 
Loving God, we come before you today to lay our suffering at your feet. We pray that You would take our burdens on your shoulders because we know you can hold them for us, even when we struggle to hold them ourselves. Cradle us in your arms, protecting and loving us through whatever we may encounter in this life. And help us maintain our faith in You, always. In your Holy name we pray. Amen.

Young at Heart Message

If I happened to have $100 to give away, how many of you would want it?

Well, you’re in luck, because I DO have $100 that I’d like to give away.
​
Who would like it?
****
You know what? On second thought, I don’t think I will give it away. None of you plan to use the money the way I think you should use it.
 
I’ve worked hard for this money. I don’t want to just give it away to people who aren’t going to use it the way I think it should be used.
 
So instead of giving it away, I think I’ll just keep it for myself. Even though some of you said you would use it in ways that might not be bad, it still wasn’t the way I thought you should be using it.
 
What do you all think about my thought process on this?
 
****
 
The Message
 
Is my mentality about giving away my money completely unfounded? Or does this kind of thinking happen more than we realize?
 
How many of us have decided not to give money to a homeless person because we assumed that person would use the money to do something that we wouldn’t approve of?
 
What about giving a gift of money to our kids or grandkids for a specific purpose, only to find out later that they used the money for something it wasn’t intended for?
 
In the Ecclesiastes passage we heard today, the speaker is lamenting about the fact that he has worked hard for what he has, but eventually, someone else is going to get the things he worked so hard for, and he isn’t sure if the people inheriting his wealth would use it the way he would.
 
This is similar to our discussion about the $100 I had to give away.
 
At the end of the day, it was hard for me to part with that money I worked so hard for because I didn’t trust how you all would use that money.
 
At any rate, you might not use it the same way I would, so giving it to any of you made me uneasy.
 
I think many of us can relate to the person in Ecclesiastes.
 
We work hard for our money, we make choices about where, how, and when to spend our money (or not), and, frankly, it’s very easy for us to judge how other people choose to spend their money.
 
So much so that, like the person in Ecclesiastes, when we come to a point where we must think about who will get the money and assets we worked so hard for, we sometimes want to stipulate how others spend that money.
 
We see this happen often in charitable giving, too.
 
In churches, for example, people might give money for a very specific purpose. In some churches, even the individual pews have a little plaque on them saying who donated to pay for that pew.
 
But, what happens when the time comes to replace that pew? Or, when the needs of the church change and the pews need to be replaced with chairs?
 
You guessed it. People can’t get rid of the pews because someone gave money to pay for it.
 
On the other hand, if you give your money to a general fund for a church, you expect that your board and/or church council, either now or in the future, will make the best choices for the current environment.
 
If you were to worry so much about how money would be spent in the future, and you wondered if people would choose exactly the way you would choose, you will either not give any money, or you might potentially cause the church issues down the road when there is a need to spend the money, but it’s not in the way you intended.
 
This is actually an incredibly common challenge in church environments.
 
And it’s not just individual churches. Many overarching church organizations have funds that were donated for very specific purposes that can no longer be used because the original intended purpose is now moot.
 
For example, let’s say 20 years ago, someone donated $50,000 to Good Shepherd for the express purpose of offering scholarships for seminary students.
 
20 years ago, maybe there were 10 people who were interested in attending seminary from Good Shepherd.
 
So, at that time, the person who donated the money very generously decided to restrict those funds for only that purpose.
 
And, each of those 10 people got $200 from that fund, because the church didn’t want to go through all of the money right away so that future students could use the fund.
 
So, the first year, $2000 was used from that fund.
 
But, the next year, there were only 8 students who wanted to use that fund. Each of them also received $200.
 
And the year after, there were only 3 students who each received $200.
 
Since then, over the last 20 years, there has only been 1 other student who needed access to those funds. That person received $1000 because it’s becoming apparent there weren’t as many students interested in seminary.
 
If you’ve been doing the math, the fund has been depleted now to $44,800.
 
And, now there hasn’t been a student interested in seminary for 10 years, there are no young people in the congregation, and it’s unlikely there will ever be another seminary student again.
 
If there is, it will be few and far between. So now the church has $44,800 that can’t be used for anything, because the intended purpose is no longer relevant to the current church environment.
 
The donation was very well-intentioned at the time it was given, and the church was wise about their use of the money because they were trying to predict the future, so they didn’t want to deplete the fund.
 
That’s not a bad thing. But it is an example of the type of thinking we see from our person in Ecclesiastes. We want to maintain control of the things we’ve worked hard for, even when it’s not always in the best interest of the other.
 
Let’s think about the homeless person that we are hesitant to give money to for a moment.
 
Our inclination is to never give cash to a person like that. And, in all fairness, there is an assumption that the person will go and spend the money on drugs, alcohol, gambling, etc.
 
Our assumption may be completely wrong, but we make it anyway. Essentially, we don’t trust that person to spend our hard-earned money wisely.
 
So instead, we think maybe we will offer to buy them food. This can be a very generous offer, certainly.
 
But, what if that person has easy enough access to food, either through food pantries or other resources? What that person really needs is warm socks.
 
But no one ever asks them what they need, they just assume they need food. So the person isn’t actually going hungry, but they are struggling to sleep at night because their feet are cold.
 
Though well-intentioned, our assumption that the person will not be able to choose for themselves how to best use our hard-earned money means that we end up not giving them our money at all.
 
So, you can see how this challenge can become a slippery slope.
 
And then, in steps Jesus. Of course.
 
Jesus tells us in Luke 12 a story intended to remind us that our mentality about money and wealth is misguided.
 
The story Jesus shares is about a rich farmer who ended up with more than he needed from a harvest.
 
Rather than sharing that with others, he decided to build larger barns and store more for himself.
 
Now, I think most of us can understand this. What happens if, the next year, the harvest isn’t as abundant and he needs the extra??
 
But God said “You fool! Tonight you will die. Then who will get what you have stored up?”
 
Jesus then says, “This is what happens to people who store up everything for themselves, but are poor in the sight of God.”
 
In today’s world, though, it’s hard not to want to save more and more, in case life gets tough. It’s also hard not to want to keep up with everyone around us – bigger cars, bigger houses, more food, more “stuff.”
 
But, at what point is enough enough?
 
When we do choose to give our money away, do we really need to control how others spend it?
 
Is a gift truly a gift if we want to control how it’s used?
 
These are the questions that this scripture passage begs.
 
And, I think this passage is a great opportunity to ask ourselves to be self-reflective as a church.
 
We are an extremely lucky church to have the resources that we have.
 
And of course, we need to make wise choices with those resources.
 
But, I do think we need to ask ourselves if Jesus is quite literally speaking to us directly here.
 
Do we have more than we truly need? How much is enough? Have we been building bigger barns to store more and more resources?
 
The Good News of this passage is that we can see ourselves reflected in it, and we can wonder with God whether there is a lesson to be learned here.
 
The lessons are not always easy to swallow. But, that is the beauty of the Gospel.
 
Jesus tells hard truths on a regular basis. Often, those hard truths don’t initially seem to apply to us. But sometimes, we need to look within ourselves to see if those hard truths do apply to us.
 
And, if they do, it doesn’t mean there is anything wrong with us. It means we are human, and Jesus fully understands the human experience.
 
So, may we reflect on our own humanity and the ways in which we might be trying to control things we should not be worrying about controlling.
 
May we ask ourselves the hard questions and wonder if Jesus might be trying to deliver a hard truth through his Gospel message.
 
May we look inward, both at ourselves personally and at our church and our resources, and may we honestly and humbly reflect on what Jesus has told us about money, riches, power, greed, and control.
 
Amen.
 
Let us pray:
 
Gracious and loving God, sometimes Jesus offers us hard truths, and we find it hard to look inward and reflect on how similar we are to the people Jesus is talking to. It can be easy for us to see how his words are hard truths for others, but it can be harder to see this in ourselves. Help us to open our hearts and minds to the lessons Jesus has to teach us. In your Holy name, we pray. Amen.