Anita and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

I had a bad day today. Not at home - at work. It was so rotten I really don't even want to blog about it. I feel all weepy and mopey and I just wish I had my mommy right now. You ever have one of those days?

Sometimes, when I read about other women who have quiet time (or devotions, or whatever you want to call it) and how close they feel to the Lord during those times, I feel a bit jealous...and a bit like maybe there's something wrong with me. That closeness, that sense that Jesus is present - that doesn't happen for me. Times like this, when I'm feeling down and really discouraged, I wish I could go to my Bible, or into prayer, and really feel like Jesus is right there with me.

When I spend time in the Word, it's more of an intellectual thing for me. It's almost...well, work. That is not to say that there are not times when the Word speaks comfort to me, or that I can't find beauty in the Scriptures. But when I read God's Word, I'm looking, working, digging for something. I must concentrate and it takes effort. I might find meaning, deeper understanding, or relevance, but I've never had an experience where it felt like I was spending time alone with Jesus.

I am not a great pray-er. I must say - thankfully, joyfully - that this is an area where I have seen God's grace at work over the years. Praying comes easier than it used to and I do feel something approaching closeness when I am in prayer...but in truth, there is still a part of me that feels disconnected. As if my prayers must cross a great distance. I have never had a feeling like Jesus is right next to me and we're just talking.

I don't want to make it sound like I'm putting my trust in a feeling. I know, whether it feels like it or not, that Jesus is present. And I don't mean to imply that because I don't have a strong emotional response to being in prayer or in the Word that somehow my faith is not authentic.

It's just that I long for contact. Sometimes I wish that Jesus was right here and that he'd give me a hug. (And how dumb is that? I mean, the Creator of the universe - for the sake of a miserable sinner like me - came down from his throne in heaven, suffered the indignity of becoming a helpless child, lived a blameless life in my place and suffered a horrible and unrighteous death so that I might be reconciled to God...and I'm complaining that I want a hug??)

But isn't that what we all want? Some contact? A friendly voice to comfort us? (Beth, is it any wonder that I picked tonight to call??) Something tangible to hang onto in the midst of pain and confusion? And you know what? I think God knows this about us and understands. More, He provided for this very real need that we have - the need to touch and hold onto something solid - by becoming a man and walking with us.

And I think it's also why (or at least part of the reason why) he comes to us bodily in the Eucharist. Because he knows how fragile we are, and how much we need to be able to hold onto Him, not just in a spiritual sense, but in a real, physical way.

I wish I could describe to you exactly what it is like for me when I receive the Body and Blood of the Lord - the very Presence of God - in the Sacrament. I'm not sure that you can understand what that Presence is like any more than I can understand the closeness that some have in prayer and Bible study. I can only tell you that it is real. And not in a subjective way, not a "feeling" that I have (although I do experience it as a feeling too, if you get what I mean).

I believe that the True Presence of the Lord in the Eucharist is an objective thing. I believe it because Christ himself - in his last will and testament before his disciples - says so. I believe He really meant it. When He comes to me in, with and under the bread and the wine, He strengthens me. He comes to me because He knows how much I need what only He has to offer. Forgiveness of sins. Comfort for my hurting soul. Strengthened and renewed faith in His promises. So He comes in a way that I can grab hold of tangibly, so that I may have no doubt whatsoever of His presence.

This went in a way different direction than I thought it would when I first started this post. The Holy Spirit is like that sometimes - the words just come tumbling out of my fingers. I think I've said enough for now.

Lutheran preaching at its finest

One of the real blessings of blogging is I've gotten to "meet" Lutherans from other parts of the world that I probably would not have met otherwise. If you read here, you have likely seen Beth and Sue around from time to time. The Lutheran Church Canada is a relatively small church body so you kind of get to "know" a lot of the pastors, or at least their names. So it was kind of neat to find blogs for Pastor Alex Klages and his wife Kelly. Pastor Klages is Canadian and his lovely wife is American; Pastor Klages shepherds two parishes in Manitoba. Two real treasures that I stumbled across are the blogs of Pastor William Weedon (Weedon's Blog) and Pastor William Cwirla (Rev. Cwirla's Blogosphere). These two guys are among the finest preachers I have ever heard.

This is probably bad blogging etiquette, but I've cut and paste a sermon that Pastor Weedon had posted on his blog. I think it is an outstanding sermon in and of itself, but I picked it because it is a good example of a typical Lutheran sermon. If you are not well acquainted with Lutheran preaching, it is probably different than what you are used to. Lutheran sermons are all about preaching the Gospel. They are all about what God has done, and continues to do, for us. They're not about "right living" or "Christian precepts" or what we "do" for God. You might hear about how we ought to live in light of the Gospel, but the focus is firmly on what God has done for us through Christ.

The Bible is all about Jesus, from beginning to end and the purpose of the Bible is to reveal Christ to us. It's not surprising then, that our servants of the Word, in accordance with Paul's instruction to Timothy, preach the Word; that is, Christ crucified.

Anyways, here's the sermon...enjoy!

Homily for Trinity 2 (2008)
[Proverbs 9:1-10 / 1 John 3:13-18 / Luke 14:15-24]

“Blessed is everyone who WILL EAT bread in the Kingdom of God!” That’s what the fellow cried out. The man who was reclining at Table with Jesus, hearing Him preach and teach and sharing the meal together with Him. He was so focused on the future, that He was in danger of missing the present. The fellow was thinking of how wonderful heaven must be. You can almost hear the wistfulness in his words.

Jesus’ reply is rather shocking. He basically says: “You think so? Most people don’t. And here’s the proof. Because what you’re thinking of in the sweet bye and bye is exactly what I am offering in the sweet here and now. Feasting with Me IS heaven. Communing with Me IS life. But would you look at what happens!”

And so the parable. A great banquet. A banquet first announced (that would be by the prophets – as we also heard in today’s first reading from Proverbs) and then prepared. A banquet to which people are invited without having to bring a single thing, not even a side-dish to share – ALL supplied in full, ALL gift. “Come, for everything is now ready.” Which is just the same as saying: You want heaven? What about I give you a bit of heaven right here and now?

And what response does this invitation receive? “I have bought a field and must go inspect it. I have bought five yoke of oxen and I go to examine them. I have married a wife and therefore I cannot come. Please have me excused.”

The gift of heaven itself offered to the citizens of the earth, and they are so preoccupied with the business and pleasures of this age that they simply have no time for the joys of the age to come; and even worse, by preferring the pleasures and occupations of this life, they show that they have no real desire for heaven after all. That is what actually stands behind the excuses: we’ve got more important things to do in our lives right now, God, than to eat bread with You in Your Kingdom. Farming, boating, golfing, sleeping in, reading the newspaper, picnicking, camping, partying with our friends. You name it. But it all comes down to this: Your offer isn’t as appetizing to us as the fun of this world. And so we give our hearts to the things temporal that we are bound to lose; and neglect to our unspeakable hurt the things eternal.

The banquet is a gift. First, foremost, always. Gifts are offered; not coerced. God offers them in freedom without compulsion and we can reject them in freedom without compulsion. Heaven is a gift. Even heaven on this earth. Our God will never force a person to receive it. But the invitation does not ring out over any one person’s life indefinitely. There comes a time when the invitation moves on to others. And so in the parable, it moved on to the poor, the crippled, blind and lame, the people of the highways and hedges. They filled the banquet hall that others had spurned. They gratefully attended to the heavenly feast that our Father prepares for His children on earth. And all who heed the invite find a welcome that astonishes and a feast more lavish than anything they could ever imagine, desire, or certainly deserve.

And so the story has gone on through these many centuries. Our God keeps setting up His banqueting table among us and He summons any who will to leave behind the preoccupations of this life, who will lay aside all earthly cares, to come and feast with Him. To listen to Him as He reveals in His Word the joys He has prepared for those who love Him, and then to receive the food that He has readied for them: the unimaginable feast of His Son’s body and blood. Yes, the very sacrifice by which atonement was won for all people on the Cross becomes the sacrament by which atonement is applied to all who come to receive. The body that was broken for the remission of sins upon Golgotha, is the body that He reaches you at this table. The blood that blotted out the sin of the world is the blood He wants to pour into you from His chalice.

And why? So that you may have communion with your Savior. So that you may live in Him and He may live in you. Your sins forgiven, your death destroyed. This is the meaning of life itself. This is the banquet which is wholly gift and which the Heavenly Father has set for you so that you may already here and now by faith partake of the life that He has prepared for you in eternity.

But what will you answer Him? Wisdom invites: “Come, eat of my bread and drink of the wine I have mixed. Leave your simple ways and live, and walk in the way of insight.” There is no insight greater than that the Blessed Trinity has so created and so redeemed you that you might live in communion with Him. You are the objects of such great love! “By this we know love, that He laid down His life for us.” And where else do you taste that love but at His banquet, His Divine Service where the table of the Word and the table of the Supper overflow with gifts of life for each of you, His beloved children?

Do you want to go to heaven? Do you want to eat bread in the Kingdom of God? Do you want to recline at table with saints and angels and feast forever in the joy of God’s presence? Do you want to hear the hymn of praise that never ceases? Do you want to be with your loved ones who have died in the faith and passed behind the veil? You don’t have to wait. He reaches you the gift here and now, and He reaches it to you every week. And the more you experience what He offers here, the more you will realize that there is nothing on earth that could ever satisfy you like this. For here is the love, the peace, the joy you ache for. Here is total acceptance, pardon and love. Here is the family of God gathered as one around the Savior, some few seen, and multitudes upon multitudes unseen. Not in the sweet bye and bye. But all here and all now. Waiting. For you. “Come, for everything is now ready.”

Amen.

Catching up: A visit and a story

Last week we had our vicar, Galen, his wife Jenny, and their adorable baby son Brandon over for supper and some fellowship. We had been trying to get together for a while, and finally got to do it on Friday night. We had such a fun time!

Galen mentioned to me before that he and Jenny lived for a while in New York City - they are both originally from Depew, NY which is just outside of Buffalo. Anyways, we got to talking about it and it turns out that he was in NY on Sept. 11, 2001. He shared with us what that was like.

He had only just arrived in NY 2 weeks before and was attending Concordia College in Bronxville. One of the first things he did when he got there was to go sightseeing and just a few days before 9/11 he had taken a picture of the towers from across the river. Jenny hadn't joined him yet at this point.

On Sept. 11 his mom called him around 9:30 and woke him up. She asked him if he knew what was going on - he had no clue, of course. So she told him to turn on the TV and the two of them watched as it all unfolded.

He went on to tell us about some of the aftermath: how he once went down to Ground Zero and saw these street vendors hawking "souvenirs" while family members of victims looked on in horror. He said he felt like Jesus must have when he overturned the moneychangers tables in the temple.

Then he told us about the funeral for Ronald Bucca. I must admit, I didn't recognize the name at first. Ronald Bucca was a fire marshall and he died (along with others) trying to help people caught in the first tower. (If I'm getting some of these details wrong, forgive me...I'm going by memory here.) He was the first NY fire marshall ever to die on the job and his death was mourned in the city. He is remembered as a hero.

Ronald happened to be Lutheran, and his home church was too small to accommodate the number of people that were expected to attend the funeral, so it was arranged for the funeral to be held at the Concordia College chapel. Galen was honoured and humbled to be among those who assisted during the funeral. He estimates that about 1500 people attended. He said that at some points it was all he could do not to break down and sob. The most moving moment came, he said, during communion. One mourner bent his head to receive the cup that was brought to his lips and as he did so a tear came tumbling down into the cup, splashing the wine. Lutherans do not ordinarily practise open communion, but on this day all who wished to be comforted and strenghtened by the Body and Blood of the Lord were welcomed to the table. In such a desperate time of need, how could they turn anyone away? I think it was the right thing to do and there is no way of knowing how the Lord may have used it.

It was really moving to hear a first hand account of what those awful days were like. We often say the world was changed forever on that horrible day, but hearing how it changed one life - someone I actually know - really hit home.