This sermon was preached at Glenwood and Canoe Ridge Lutheran Churches, Decorah, Iowa, on July 8, 2018. It’s based on Mark 6:1-13. If you’d prefer to listen to it, find it at https://soundcloud.com/stacey-nalean-carlson.
Mark 6:1-13
[Jesus] came to his hometown, and his disciples followed him.2On the sabbath he began to teach in the synagogue, and many who heard him were astounded. They said, “Where did this man get all this? What is this wisdom that has been given to him? What deeds of power are being done by his hands! 3Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary and brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon, and are not his sisters here with us?” And they took offense at him. 4Then Jesus said to them, “Prophets are not without honor, except in their hometown, and among their own kin, and in their own house.” 5And he could do no deed of power there, except that he laid his hands on a few sick people and cured them. 6And he was amazed at their unbelief.
Then he went about among the villages teaching. 7He called the twelve and began to send them out two by two, and gave them authority over the unclean spirits. 8He ordered them to take nothing for their journey except a staff; no bread, no bag, no money in their belts; 9but to wear sandals and not to put on two tunics. 10He said to them, “Wherever you enter a house, stay there until you leave the place. 11If any place will not welcome you and they refuse to hear you, as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them.” 12So they went out and proclaimed that all should repent. 13They cast out many demons, and anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them.
Pastor Will Starkweather took no time at all to get to the heart of the matter when he addressed 30,000 young people at the ELCA Youth Gathering in Houston last week.1
I was a freshman in high school when I started cutting, he said. The pain wasn’t something I enjoyed, but it was something I could control when everything else was out of control. So whenever fear or stress or anger or sadness threatened to overwhelm me, I turned to self-harm.
It wasn’t until I was a sophomore in college that I first sought help, he continued. Now, I was raised in the church. I was a religion major who wanted to be a pastor. I was working in a church. So I figured I should talk to my pastor. And I shared with him the hurt and the shame and the fear that I’d been carrying for all these years.
And with four words he broke me: “You’re going to hell.” Four words, but they confirmed everything I’d ever been afraid of. I was broken, and there was no hope of fixing me. So I walked away from the church.
Our gospel reading for today is often entitled, The Rejection of Jesus at Nazareth. In his hometown, where one might expect that he would be welcomed and embraced, Jesus is instead questioned relentlessly. No one is able to see him for the prophet that he is. They are only able to see him as they had known him before—a carpenter, the son of Mary, a brother to his siblings, one unworthy of the wisdom and power that he now seems to possess. And they took offense at him.
The Greek word here is the word from which is derived the English word scandal. Jesus, the carpenter, one of them…now teaching with wisdom and healing with power…is scandalous.
And Jesus could do no deed of power there. This is so remarkable to me. It’s like unbelief is kryptonite to Jesus here. His power is diminished when he’s rejected. And I’m unsettled by that. I want Jesus to be all powerful all the time, to work hope and healing even in the midst of people who don’t trust him to bring wisdom and power to their lives. That’s something I’ll keep pondering.
But Jesus doesn’t seem unduly disturbed by their rejection. It’s almost as though he anticipated it. He seemed to know, going into Nazareth, that prophets are not without honor, except in their hometown. So he moves on. He goes out among the villages teaching and he sends his twelve disciples out with authority to do his work in the world. And quite possibly for the only time in the gospel of Mark, the disciples are actually successful. They went out and proclaimed that all should repent. They cast out many demons, and anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them.
Elsewhere in Mark, the disciples seem clueless. They argue about who is the greatest, they fail to help a boy with a spirit that makes him unable to speak, they worry about having enough bread to eat immediately after Jesus has just fed thousands with seven loaves and a few small fish.
But here, they actually get it. They go out—as Jesus has commanded them—entirely dependent on the hospitality of others. Jesus sends them out without anything for their journey—no bread, no bag, no money. And with nothing to rely on but the word of Jesus and the hospitality of strangers, they are able to do what they’ve been called to do: proclaim repentance, cast out demons, heal the sick.
Isn’t it compelling, that Jesus—on the heels of such rejection—sends his followers out with nothing to depend on but reception? Jesus knows the impact of dismissal and exclusion, but he also knows the power of welcome and acceptance. He knows that his disciples will be transformed, and equipped with power to heal, by way of his word and their reliance on the grace of those whom they encounter.
So, back to Will Starkweather. After being absolutely rejected by a person who should have loved him, Will took the risk of returning to the church and sharing his story again.
I sat down with Pastor Karla, and for the second time I shared this story. And I was terrified what she was going to say when I finished. Pastor Karla listened, and then she also said four words: “There’s grace for that.”
There’s grace for that. Those words changed my life. Having my brokenness met by grace made recovery a possibility. And this year, on Easter morning, I celebrated ten years safe from self-harm. It’s only because I’ve experienced grace that I’m able to stand here and share grace with others.
Time and again at the Youth Gathering, previously rejected people stood on that stage and shared the ways in which God’s grace transformed them through the welcome and acceptance and radical hospitality of those who responded to their brokenness, their fear, their shame, with love.
And that love—the love of God made manifest through the love of others—brought hope and healing, and made it possible for them to stand in front of 30,000 young people and share their stories. And let me tell you, every single one of them was met with thunderous applause, standing ovations, the love of God embodied.
Pastor Melissa Bills put it this way in a letter to the members and friends of First Lutheran, Decorah, where she serves: Throughout this week, the Gathering lifted up the brokenness in our world, in ourselves, and in one another, and showed us that grace is offered to us, no matter how messy it gets. God’s love and welcome for all were preached and preached again. The message was clear: Christ crucified is a Christ who takes unto himself all the pain of our world so that we can be assured that each of us is loved, forgiven, and included in God’s wide embrace of grace.
The honest truth is that our youth face many of these issues day after day, whether we realize it or not. Our Decorah youth are not immune from anxiety, self-harm, eating disorders, questions about their gender and their sexuality, surviving abuse or addiction. But in this week , they heard, over and over again, no matter what their brokenness or fear: “There’s grace for that.” 2
My prayer is that our youth who went to Houston would continue to hear that message of love and grace and see it embodied in this community. My prayer is that we would receive the testimony of these young people, as they call us to live out the radical welcome they witnessed and experienced at the Gathering. My prayer is that we, like the first disciples of Jesus, would be transformed, and equipped with power to heal, as we are sent out to risk vulnerability for the sake of God’s beloved world. Amen.
1Listen to Rev. Will Starkweather’s entire talk here: https://www.youtube.com.
2Read Rev. Melissa Bills’ entire letter here: http://www.firstlutherandecorah.org.