This sermon was preached at Ossian Lutheran Church on November 20, 2022, using the assigned texts for Christ the King Sunday.
Jeremiah 23:1-6
Woe to the shepherds who destroy and scatter the sheep of my pasture! says the Lord. Therefore thus says the Lord, the God of Israel, concerning the shepherds who shepherd my people: It is you who have scattered my flock, and have driven them away, and you have not attended to them. So I will attend to you for your evil doings, says the Lord. Then I myself will gather the remnant of my flock out of all the lands where I have driven them, and I will bring them back to their fold, and they shall be fruitful and multiply. I will raise up shepherds over them who will shepherd them and they shall not fear any longer, or be dismayed, nor shall any be missing, says the Lord.
The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will raise up for David a righteous Branch, and he shall reign as king and deal wisely, and shall execute justice and righteousness in the land. In his days Judah will be saved and Israel will live in safety. And this is the name by which he will be called: “The Lord is our righteousness.”
Colossians 1:11-20
May you be made strong with all with all the strength that comes from his glorious power, and may you be prepared to endure everything with patience, while joyfully giving thanks to the Father, who has enabled you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the light. He has rescued us from the power of darkness and transferred us into the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.
He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation; for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers – all things have been created through him and for him. He himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together. He is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, so that he might come to have first place in everything. For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross.
Luke 23:33-43
When they came to the place that is called The Skull, they crucified Jesus there with the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. Then Jesus said, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.” And they cast lots to divide his clothing. And the people stood by, watching; but the leaders scoffed at him, saying, “He saved others; let him save himself if he is the Messiah of God, his chosen one!” The soldiers also mocked him, coming up and offering him sour wine, and saying, “If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!” There was also an inscription over him, “This is the King of the Jews.” One of the criminals who were hanged there kept deriding him and
saying, “Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!” But the other rebuked him, saying, “Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong.” Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” He replied, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.“
Beloved of God, grace and peace to you in the name of Jesus. Amen.
I’m not sure if I’ll ever learn my lesson.
Inevitably, I pull into the garage, open the back of my vehicle, and begin loading far too much onto my body. If I’m returning from an overnight trip, it’s my Hawkeye duffle bag filled with clothes, the reusable shopping bag from Kohl’s filled with everything that didn’t fit in the duffle bag, a cooler filled with now empty food containers, my water bottle, my phone, and my car keys.
It’s too much to carry in one trip from the garage into the house, but heaven forbid I would recognize my limitations and make more than one trip.
Instead, inevitably, one of three things happens: 1) I drop one thing and in trying to pick it up drop everything else; 2) I manage to strain a muscle that then bothers me for at least 24 hours, because I guess that’s what happens after age 40; or 3) I get about halfway into the house and have to shout for help, hoping that someone will come to my rescue. This last thing is the rarest thing, because again, heaven forbid I would need help, let alone ask for help.
Do you ever try to carry too much?
We’re approaching that time of year that subtly—and not so subtly—compels us to carry too much. How could we possibly put down any of our holiday traditions when each one is so precious? How could we possibly not go—and stay home instead—when someone has been so kind as to invite us? How could we possibly consider our own needs when so many people are depending on us?
I don’t know about you, but lately I’ve been falling asleep at 7:30 pm. (Ugh. Daylight Savings Time.) We’re spending more time in the dark. It’s getting cold. It’s snowing. I think we’re probably designed to hibernate during this season, or at least to slow down and rest more, allow the rhythms of our body to match the rhythms of the natural world around us. But instead, the culture compels us to do more, to be more, to carry more.
And on top of that duffle bag filled with events to attend, and the reusable shopping bag filled with magic to create, and the cooler filled with recipes to prepare, the expectations of our employer, our family, our own need to be seen as having it all together—there’s that last package that has slid underneath the passenger seat. It’s the grief that arrives during this season of memory and absence and joy tinged with regret, and as we bend down to pick it up the whole thing—every responsibility, every expectation–comes crashing down.
And if it’s a good day, we shout for help.
Christ the King Sunday, then, comes along at just the right time. As our hold on all that we’re trying to carry begins to slip, this day assures us that holding it all—and holding it all together—is not ours to do. It is in Christ that all things—ALL things—hold together.
The reading from Colossians begins with a word of blessing: May you be made strong with all the strength that comes from God’s glorious power…
Eugene Peterson’s The Message puts it this way: We pray that you’ll have the strength to stick it out over the long haul—not the grim strength of gritting your teeth but the glory-strength God gives.
There is no need to hold on to the grim, grit-your-teeth strength that compels you to carry more and more until finally you hurt yourself or those around you. No, what we’ve been given is glory-strength—made possible only by the God who glories not in abusing power, but in empowering others; not in taking, but in giving.
This God—this crucified Christ, offering forgiveness and salvation from the depths of pain and loss—holds it all together for us, holds US all together.
Christ hears our cries for help before we utter them aloud, before we even resign ourselves to asking for help, before we acknowledge our humanity, before we admit our need. Christ hears the cries of a world in need and stretches out his arms on the cross—carrying, for us all, every weight, every burden, every binding expectation…even every pressing grief.
Feel the weight of all that you’re trying to carry being lifted from you today. Feel the freedom, the release, the relief.
It is Christ who holds our lives, our families, our congregations and communities.
Again, reading from The Message:
So spacious is Christ, so expansive, that everything of God finds its proper place in Christ…
All things hold together in Christ. Everything. Everyone.
Gather your beloved, Christ our King. Shepherd this world, until that day when none go missing and no one lives in fear.
Today is Transgender Day of Remembrance, a day that honors the memory of the transgender people whose lives were lost in acts of anti-transgender violence. These beloved of God whose lives we remember today are held in Christ.
You, beloved of God, daily excluded by callous ignorance and attacked by hate, are held in the spacious, expansive love of Christ.
You, beloved of God, bound by ignorance and motivated by hate, are held in the spacious, expansive love of Christ.
You, beloved of God, afraid to speak, afraid to live the love that has claimed you, are held in the spacious, expansive love of Christ.
You, beloved of God, boldly calling for justice, bravely resisting despair, are held in the spacious, expansive love of Christ.
Freed from all that we have needlessly tried to carry on our own, held together by the love of God, can we use our unbound arms to embrace those who are our neighbors, our siblings, in Christ?
We are citizens of a kin-dom where the spacious, expansive love of Christ reigns supreme and where all things hold together without our futile, frustrated efforts to carry it all ourselves.
May you be made strong with all the strength that comes from God’s glorious power, beloved.
Feel the freedom, the release, the relief.
Amen.
A wonderful message.
Thank you, Dianne.