This sermon was preached at Glenwood and Canoe Ridge Lutheran Churches, Decorah, Iowa on November 3, 2019. It’s based on Revelation 7:9-17 and Luke 6:20-31. If you’d prefer to listen to it, find it at https://soundcloud.com/stacey-nalean-carlson.
Revelation 7:9-17
9 After this I looked, and there was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, robed in white, with palm branches in their hands. 10 They cried out in a loud voice, saying,
“Salvation belongs to our God who is seated on the throne, and to the Lamb!”
11 And all the angels stood around the throne and around the elders and the four living creatures, and they fell on their faces before the throne and worshiped God, 12 singing,
“Amen! Blessing and glory and wisdom
and thanksgiving and honor
and power and might
be to our God forever and ever! Amen.”
13 Then one of the elders addressed me, saying, “Who are these, robed in white, and where have they come from?” 14 I said to him, “Sir, you are the one that knows.” Then he said to me, “These are they who have come out of the great ordeal; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.
15 For this reason they are before the throne of God,
and worship him day and night within his temple,
and the one who is seated on the throne will shelter them.
16 They will hunger no more, and thirst no more;
the sun will not strike them,
nor any scorching heat;
17 for the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd,
and he will guide them to springs of the water of life,
and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.”
Luke 6:20-31
20 Then he looked up at his disciples and said:
“Blessed are you who are poor,
for yours is the kingdom of God.
21 “Blessed are you who are hungry now,
for you will be filled.
“Blessed are you who weep now,
for you will laugh.
22 “Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you[a] on account of the Son of Man. 23 Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven; for that is what their ancestors did to the prophets.
24 “But woe to you who are rich,
for you have received your consolation.
25 “Woe to you who are full now,
for you will be hungry.
“Woe to you who are laughing now,
for you will mourn and weep.
26 “Woe to you when all speak well of you, for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets.
27 “But I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, 28 bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. 29 If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. 30 Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. 31 Do to others as you would have them do to you.
There are days, like today, when what is always true and present becomes that much more visible. Contained in this room—held by you—are both immense joys and unbearable sorrows. It’s like this every week, but today we pause to notice.
We hold new life in our arms, humming lullabies as we sway and rock, joy just barely tempered by fear and exhaustion. A tiny finger grasps ours and time shifts—propelling us back to the past and forward to the future before grounding us in this present beauty.
AND…
We stand empty, depleted by grief, the hymns we sang at the bedside and at the funeral still constricting our throats as tears flow unbidden. The hand we held is gone and with it a piece of ourselves.
Contained in this room—held by you—is love and hate, peace and regret, hope and despair, joy so full you wonder if it’s real and grief so raw you can’t imagine how you’ll go on. It’s all here every week, but today we see it so clearly; we feel it deep in our bones.
It’s a comfort to me that it wasn’t any different for Jesus and his disciples. Jesus looked at them, Luke tells us, and saw those who were poor but also those who were rich, those who were hungry but also those who were full, those who were weeping but also those who were laughing. And Jesus has a word for them all, no matter where they find themselves in that moment.
That word is this: whatever you’re experiencing now won’t last. This season is changing. If you’re weeping now, you will laugh. And if you’re laughing now, you will mourn and weep…not because God doesn’t love you, but because this is life.
Professor Matt Skinner points out that the Greek word translated here as woe doesn’t mean “cursed” or “unhappy.” Certainly not “damned.” Like the English word yikes, it is more of an attention-getter and emotion-setter than a clear characterization or pronouncement. 1 Look out, you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep.
We are never far from sorrow. But we are also never far from joy. Life in the kingdom of God doesn’t shelter us from struggle. Jesus doesn’t look at his disciples and promise them that they will all be happy and worry-free the rest of their days. Instead, he acknowledges the joys and the sorrows they already carry…and the joys and the sorrows that await them. And in the end, he says to those that will listen: Love. Bless. Pray. Give. Do to others as you would have them do to you.
We are never far from sorrow or from joy. Our experiences of suffering and of celebration can equip us to care for others when their times of weeping or laughter come. The love we’ve received we freely share with others.
Moreover, it may be that the seasons of struggle are the seasons when we experience God most powerfully in our lives. What if, when we stand in solidarity with those who carry the burdens of hunger, poverty, and grief, we actually stand with Jesus, whose ministry consistently took the side of the forgotten and the outcast, revealing God’s desire for all to experience abundant life?
What if the gospel we proclaim with our prayers and our songs, our advocacy and our stewardship, our cards and our hugs, is the good news Jesus embodied, the good news of which his mother, Mary, sang: God has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty. He has helped his servant Israel in remembrance of his mercy.
God is merciful. God’s love for you—no matter what you hold this day, no matter what you carry—is sure and certain, steadfast, abiding. I pray you’ll experience that love here today, surrounded by the saints of earth and heaven.
Jan Richardson has written a beautiful blessing for this day. She says, It’s one I wrote shortly before Gary’s death, not knowing how much I would need it for myself, and how soon. But that’s how a blessing works: it moves within time but also beyond it, spiraling around to meet us in the ways we most need.2 Here is her blessing, entitled God of the Living.
When the wall
between the worlds
is too firm,
too close.
When it seems
all solidity
and sharp edges.
When every morning
you wake as if
flattened against it,
its forbidding presence
fairly pressing the breath
from you
all over again.
Then may you be given
a glimpse
of how weak the wall
and how strong what stirs
on the other side,
breathing with you
and blessing you
still,
forever bound to you
but freeing you
into this living,
into this world
so much wider
than you ever knew.
Blessed are you. Here. Now. In this place where the wall is thin and what lives on the other side is so strong. The past and the future form an unbroken circle here as we stand in this present moment. We give thanks for all who’ve gone before, the ones who are still so very present in our hearts and in our lives, and we look forward to that day when God, our shelter and our shepherd, will wipe away every tear from our eyes. Amen.
1 http://www.workingpreacher.org
2 http://paintedprayerbook.com
Stacey,
This message is a beautiful witness to an enduring truth, simply beautiful!
Thank you, Marty!