Tag Archives: wonder

Preaching, Sermons

A Sermon for Mental Illness Awareness Week – Mark 9:38-50, James 5:13-20, and Psalm 19:7-14

Caitlin Trussell with Augustana Lutheran Church, September 29, 2024

[sermon begins after the Bible reading; the other two readings follow the sermon]

Mark 9:38-50  ohn said to [Jesus], “Teacher, we saw someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him, because he was not following us.” 39But Jesus said, “Do not stop him; for no one who does a deed of power in my name will be able soon afterward to speak evil of me. 40Whoever is not against us is for us. 41For truly I tell you, whoever gives you a cup of water to drink because you bear the name of Christ will by no means lose the reward.
42“If any of you put a stumbling block before one of these little ones who believe in me, it would be better for you if a great millstone were hung around your neck and you were thrown into the sea. 43If your hand causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life maimed than to have two hands and to go to hell, to the unquenchable fire. 45And if your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life lame than to have two feet and to be thrown into hell. 47And if your eye causes you to stumble, tear it out; it is better for you to enter the kingdom of God with one eye than to have two eyes and to be thrown into hell, 48where their worm never dies, and the fire is never quenched.
49“For everyone will be salted with fire. 50Salt is good; but if salt has lost its saltiness, how can you season it? Have salt in yourselves, and be at peace with one another.”

[sermon begins]

May the words of my mouth and the meditation of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. (Psalm 19:14)

Kids are silly and playful and smart. They inspire songs that get faster each time we sing them and one of them ends like this [wait just a sec, I have to show you this one], “Hip-hip-hip-o-potamus…hip hip hooray, God made all of us; hip-hip-hip-o-potamus…hip hip hooray, God made all of us!”

Every Wednesday here on the front floor in our Sanctuary, the kiddos of our (Augustana) Early Learning Center are led through Chapel by Deacon Shanna, Sue Ann, Pastor Karen, Andy, and me. We take turns week to week telling Bible stories, singing songs, and praying with the kids who have lots of their own stories to tell and questions to ask. Affordable and quality early childhood education and care are tough to come by in Denver and becoming tougher every day. But you all are a part of making it happen. The kids in chapel are adorable and challenging and they can be somewhat invisible on the protected first floor of the downhill hill side of our building – a full two stories below the level we’re on now. And yet they’re one of our congregation’s most significant outreaches to our community.

Last Sunday, in the verses just before our Mark reading this Sunday, Jesus took a child into his arms to teach his disciples that to be the greatest you must aspire to be the least and the last. In verse 37, Jesus said, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.” Jesus made the claim that children are sacramental, they are God among us.[1] He includes these vulnerable littles in God’s protection while he’s likely still holding that child.

He taught his disciples that it’s better to amputate, drown, or die than to put a stumbling block in between Jesus and the littles. By the way, those are not ways for us to hurt others. Jesus is commanding self-examination, not capital punishment. But that’s a whole other sermon. Equally as important, Jesus is not commanding self-mutilation or self-harm. That doesn’t jive with his teachings to love our neighbors as ourselves. This teaching, lit up with judgment, demands compassion from us – active compassion that shapes a world towards God’s vision of abundant life for vulnerable children and people. Children and people who are easily forgotten because they may not be in our line of sight, or we perceive them to be on a different level, or more to the point, on a lower level. Invisible in our day-to-day reality.

Invisibility brings me to the main point of the day as we spotlight Mental Illness Awareness Week coming up in the first week of October. Today our E4 Mental Health Team helps our congregation make the invisible visible. We light candles, pray, preach, and sing to focus on our loved ones’ and our own struggles with mental health. Next Sunday, our Health Ministry is inviting teens 14 years old and older, their parents, and other caring adults to watch My Sister Liv, a movie that spotlights one family’s story that includes Liv’s death by suicide. Research shows that talking about suicide reduces suicidal ideation which reduces attempts which reduces deaths. Subjects that end up off limits or taboo make healthy conversations about them more difficult. This is as true about mental illness as it is about money, sex, and politics. Healthy conversations start with at least being willing to raise the topic. It’s free to adult and teens over 14 years old. There will be childcare for those too young to be there. Come. Let Liv and her family teach us how to do things differently.

The movie will be followed by a short panel discussion that I’m on alongside mental health professionals. Why include a pastor in a panel about mental health? Because church has done a poor job on the issue of mental health. Some of that is because the culture hasn’t understood it either so there are Christians telling each other that all they have to do to get better is to have more faith or pray harder. Maybe even worse, Christians telling non-Christians that if only they had faith, then they wouldn’t be in the mental mess they’re in. Faith isn’t protective against mental illness. However, we do know that being part of a faith community offers relationships that strengthen our capacity to connect with each other about hard things like being mentally ill.

As church, we’re called to be a peculiar people who live a little differently into the future hope to which we’ve been called. God’s call into community is in stark opposition to the cultural value of rugged individualism that tells us we can fix ourselves through self-help. Which brings us to the fifth and final week of Bible readings from the book of James. James wrote about faith that makes demands of us. He was worried that if grace is too easy and too free, then the people most affected by our sin will be the powerless, the invisible.[2] There’s a reason why Lutheran Christians are partial to being saved by grace through faith. It’s because grace is God’s unconditional claim on us. We don’t make our way to God by any amount of do-goodery. If that were the case, how would we ever know if we’d been good enough? Trusting God’s grace IS the option. But James says, “Oh, so you have faith, good, nice, how about you show me.”[3] In our verses today, he’s done a solid job showing what faithful behavior looks like in the church. Pray for those who suffer. Sing with those who are happy. Anoint those who are sick. Forgive those who sin. Welcome back those who left.

None of us can do all the good things we’re called to do all of the time – to argue that we can is just absurd. But the beauty of the church is that we are a people who can take turns praying, singing, anointing, forgiving, and welcoming. This is as true for mental illness as it is for everything else. Opening up taboo topics acknowledges our whole selves before God and that God’s grace is enough to contain us. Talking about things that we’d rather didn’t exist reassures our children that we can talk about things that are true even if they’re hard. Our courage in talking about hard things means that our children don’t feel that they have to protect the grown-ups around them.

In the same breath, it’s also important that we help each other see the fullness of life. Sharing the events, relationships, and wonders that delight us and make us feel lucky to be alive are just as important to our well-being and the well-being of our children. The delight and wonder are an antidote to the overwhelming news from just about every part of the globe including here in the States. Delight and wonder don’t erase the challenges or the pain but they do remind us that life is a gift. They’re not rose-colored glasses. Delight and wonder are life illuminating glasses that reveal the goodness of life alongside the sorrow. The Hippo Song alongside the lament. The laughter of the small child embedded in the complexity of adulting.

We’re each differently equipped to offer help and support to those of us experiencing the lament of illness. If you yourself are struggling with mental illness, even still you can offer solidarity to someone else in a similar struggle – the laughter over a shared reality that is not at all funny is utterly priceless – a shared song that reminds us God is with us in the darkness and in the light.

In a minute, we’re going to sing a song not quite as silly as the Hippo Song but just as reassuring of God’s presence and love of us in the darkness and the light. During our song we have the choice to light candles that illuminate our prayers for the people we know who struggle with mental illness.

Our song reminds us that they are not alone, and neither are we. We are together and God is with us. Thanks be to God, and amen.

_____________________________________________________

[1] Philip Ruge-Jones, Associate Pastor, Grace Lutheran Church, Eau Claire, WI. Commentary on Mark 9:38-50 for September 29, 2024. Commentary on Mark 9:38-50 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

[2] Matt Skinner, Professor of New Testament, Luther Seminary, St. Paul, MN. Discussion about Bible readings for September 29, 2024. Working Preacher’s Sermon Brainwave: #984: Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost (Ord. 26B) – September 29, 2024 (libsyn.com)

[3] Ibid.

________________________________________________________

James 5:13-20 Are any among you suffering? They should pray. Are any cheerful? They should sing songs of praise. 14Are any among you sick? They should call for the elders of the church and have them pray over them, anointing them with oil in the name of the Lord. 15The prayer of faith will save the sick, and the Lord will raise them up; and anyone who has committed sins will be forgiven. 16Therefore confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another, so that you may be healed. The prayer of the righteous is powerful and effective. 17Elijah was a human being like us, and he prayed fervently that it might not rain, and for three years and six months it did not rain on the earth. 18Then he prayed again, and the heaven gave rain and the earth yielded its harvest.
19My brothers and sisters, if anyone among you wanders from the truth and is brought back by another, 20you should know that whoever brings back a sinner from wandering will save the sinner’s soul from death and will cover a multitude of sins.

Psalm 19:7-14

The teaching of the Lord is perfect and revives the soul;
the testimony of the Lord is sure and gives wisdom to the simple.
8The statutes of the Lord are just and rejoice the heart;
the commandment of the Lord is clear and gives light to the eyes.
9The fear of the Lord is clean and endures forever;
the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether.
10More to be desired are they than gold, more than much fine gold,
sweeter far than honey, than honey in the comb. 
11By them also is your servant enlightened,
and in keeping them there is great reward.
12Who can detect one’s own offenses?
Cleanse me from my secret faults.
13Above all, keep your servant from presumptuous sins; let them not get dominion over me;
then shall I be whole and sound, and innocent of a great offense.
14Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my strength and my redeemer. 

Preaching, Sermons

Worthy of Wonder, a sermon for Easter – Mark 16:1-8

**The Empty Tomb by Julia Stankova (2003) painting on wooden panel

Caitlin Trussell with Augustana Lutheran Church on March 31, 2024

[sermon begins after Bible reading]

Mark 16:1-8  When the sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices, so that they might go and anoint [Jesus’ body]. 2And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb. 3They had been saying to one another, “Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?” 4When they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had already been rolled back. 5As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man, dressed in a white robe, sitting on the right side; and they were alarmed. 6But he said to them, “Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him. 7But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.” 8So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.

[sermon begins]

There is classic question asked by Christians over the centuries. We regularly ask, “What does this mean?” The question invites wonder. We wonder about faith, scripture, Jesus, life, love, enemies, and more. Not only do we wonder, but sometimes we disagree. The disagreement isn’t always pretty – note that there are multiple flavors of Christians. But at its best, the question opens us to curiosity and wonder – “What does this mean?” The question is quite Biblical. In our Bible story this morning, Mary Magdalene, Salome, and Mary the mother of James, were in a whole heap of wonderment, reacting to the unknown and uncontrollable, and trying to make sense of a mystery. Because that’s what humans do. That’s what we do when we’ve been through the ringer like those women. It’s good to wonder.

The events leading up to Jesus’ death were shocking. He entered Jerusalem at the top of his game, his followers lined the parade route and waved palm branches, celebrating Jesus’ entrance into the city as if nothing could stop him. But he was stopped in dramatic fashion – betrayed, arrested, charged, tortured, denied, and nailed to a cross. Not just stopped. Stopped dead. Small wonder that the women at the empty tomb couldn’t wrap their heads around it, they had watched their teacher and friend die three days before.[1] Jesus wasn’t surprised. He’d been predicting his death. His death was the inevitable end to his ministry of unconditional love and grace. Hate’s last gasp, if you will, because God’s love is that powerful. Hate will always try to do away with reckless love because it’s just too threatening to the powers that be. Love is unpredictable. Love is a wonder.

Wondering about Jesus’ death before he left behind an empty tomb helps us remember that it was not the violence of his death that redeems us. Nor was his death planned to appease an angry God or a hungry devil. Jesus’ execution was unavoidable.

While it’s hard enough to believe that there’s a God who loves you, it’s downright offensive that God loves your enemies as much as God loves you. This is what riled up the people who killed him. Even so, Jesus’ death reminds us that God will not raise a hand in violence against us, even when we try to kill God. Jesus is the incarnation of God, taking violence into himself on the cross, transforming death through SELF-sacrifice, and revealing a divine love powerful enough to leave behind an empty tomb.

Those women at the tomb, what chance did they have describing such an unexplainable, wild thing after everything they’d just gone through. It’s no surprise that they fled the tomb in terror and wonder, silenced by their own fear. On Easter, we gather in wonder alongside those women. We are not so different from them, really. Making sense of an empty tomb? What does it mean? What could it mean? The empty tomb is a wonder.

The empty tomb was so full of wonder that it silenced the women. “They said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” Fear and silence were their starting point, but we must assume that one of them finally broke. In the weeks, months, and years after Jesus’ birth, ministry, crucifixion, and resurrection, Jesus’ followers told the story bit by bit, sharing it with each other and then more people, and finally writing it down. Theirs was a similar process to ours. Shaky with doubt or trusting and celebratory this Easter, we seek to understand the promises of the cross and resurrection by asking what they mean. Slowly, a piece of evidence here, an observant comment there, a Bible story now aligning with a random story you heard but can’t remember where, finally an experience in your life that ties the pieces together. Our stories are a wonder.

There is a story for each of us. Of course there is, even if we don’t think of it that way. In fact, I’d guess that if I were to ask you whether your story is worthy, you may say, “yes,” but also silently wonder about whether it is truly worthy or whether you yourself are worthy. There are many messages out there that other people’s stories are more important than our own – at school, at work, on the medias, in the movies. Those messages that elevate others at the expense of our own story are lies.

Each of our stories is about a life that God so loves. If, as the Bible says, God so loves the world, and you’re in the world, your life is worthy of God’s love, and worthy of love period. There’s no Venn diagram. Just one big circle, well, more like a planet…or actually, no, bigger than a planet…let’s go with universe, yeah, that’s it, universe! You, your life, your story, no matter how beautiful or messy or messed up it may be, is worthy of the love of God. You are a wonder.

Sometimes that seems to be the hardest thing to believe – that you are worthy of love – deep down in the darkness, in whatever tomb you’ve enclosed yourself in, shrouded in the illusion of safety. The wonder of it all is that God loves you first. Before you wake up in the morning. Before you make your first move. When you make your first move. You are beloved. We make it all kinds of complicated, but it really is that simple. We cannot screw it up or alter God’s love in any way. People will try to tell you that you can. That there’s a limit to how much even God can love. But the message of the cross and the empty tomb is that there is no limit to how much God loves you. That is the Easter promise worth the wonder. Alleluia. And amen.

_____________________________________

[1] Mark 15:40-41