2 Lent

 

March 1, 2026

 

Genesis 12:1-4a; John 3.1-7

 

+ As you can all feel and sense right now, it is an exciting time in the Episcopal Diocese of North Dakota.

 

In just a few weeks time, we will be consecrating a new Bishop.

 

And as that happens, we are all full of hope and anticipation for the future of our diocese.

 

For those of us who have been on this journey in the past---for those of us who have experiences multiple bishops over the years, our hope and anticipation is always a bit tempered.

 

We know better than to place too much hope in one person.

 

We know better than to think that one person will be able to come in and change everything that will please all of us.

 

And that is very important for all of us to remember and be mindful of, especially as we welcome Bishop Shay.

 

But, it is so vitally important to remind ourselves:

 

The ministry of the Church is not just about a bishop.

 

Or priests.

 

Or deacons.

 

Ministry is also lay people, and lay leaders.

 

The Church is made up of all of us as ministers.

 

We are all ministers of the Church.

 

Not just Bishop-elect Shay.

 

Not just Deacon John or Deacon Suzanne.

 

Not just me.

 

Each of you are doing ministry in your own ways as well.

 

But don’t take my word for it.

 

Let’s take a look at our trusty Catechism.

 

Let’s take out our Books of Common Prayer and let’s take a look way in the back.

 

We’re going to page 855

 

And there, under the section called “The Ministry,” we find this:

 

 

The Ministry

Q.	Who are the ministers of the Church?
A.	The ministers of the Church are lay persons [notice that lay persons are listed first[ , bishops, priests, and deacons.
Q.	What is the ministry of the laity?
A.	The ministry of lay persons is to represent Christ and his Church; to bear witness to him wherever they may be; and, according to the gifts given them, to carry on Christ's work of reconciliation in the world; and to take their place in the life, worship, and governance of the Church.
	Then we get questions on the ministries of Bishops, Priests and Deacon.   Finally, we get this question:
Q.	What is the duty of all Christians?
A.	The duty of all Christians is to follow Christ; to come together week by week for corporate worship; and to work, pray, and give for the spread of the kingdom of God.

 

So, when we look long and hard at what ministry is, we need to remember something.

 

Our ministry together is not just in what we do.

 

It is in who we are.

 

Our ministry is often a ministry of who we are.

 

Of our personalities.

 

Of bearing witness

 

Of representing Christ---by not only our words, but also by our actions as well.

 

Of the person that God has created, even in our very brokenness.

 

It’s all bound up very tightly together.

 

And if each of us listens, if each of strains our spiritual ears and hearts toward God, we can hear that calling, deep in our hearts.

 

We can find that God is calling us to the ministry of our day-to-day lives, the ministry of the person God has formed us to be, the ministry to serve others in the way God sees fit.

 

In our reading from the Hebrew Bible this morning, we find a clear call from God to Abram.

 

“Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to a land that I will show you.”

 

Essentially this is the call to all of us who are in ministry.

 

God calls to us wherever we may be and when that happens, we must heed that call.

 

We must step out from our comfortable places, and we must step out into our service to others even if that means going to those people in strange and alien places.

 

And sometimes when we step into those uncomfortable places, we are made all the more aware of our own brokenness—we become even more vulnerable.

 

But that’s just a simple fact in ministry: when God calls, God calls heedless of our brokenness.

 

In fact, God calls us knowing full well our brokenness.

 

And—I hope this isn’t news to anyone here this morning—God uses our brokenness.

 

God can truly work through our brokenness and use our fractured selves in reaching out to other fractured people.

 

For too many people our brokenness divides us.

 

It separates us.

 

It isolates us.

 

It prevents us from moving forward in our lives and in ministries.

 

I see this all the time in the world and in the Church.

 

Our brokenness can truly become a kind of self-condemnation.

 

It becomes the open wound we must carry with us—allowed by us to stink and fester.

 

But when we can use our brokenness to reach out in love, when we allow God to use our brokenness, it is no longer a curse and a condemnation.

 

Our brokenness becomes a fruitful means for ministry.

 

It becomes a means for renewal and rebirth.

 

It becomes the basis for ministry—for reaching out and helping those who are also broken and in need around us.

 

In our Gospel reading for today we get that all-too-familiar bit of scripture.

 

“For God so loved the world that [God] gave [God’s] only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but have eternal life.”

 

How many times have heard this scripture bantered about?

 

We have heard that scripture so often in our lives, we almost don’t realize what it’s really saying.

 

I actually love preaching on this scripture.

 

I love to for one simple reason:

 

The message is so basic, so straightforward.

 

And that simple messsage has gotten lost over time.

 

God so loved the world---

 

The world here is you.

 

The world here is me.

 

The world here is us.

 

God so loved us.

 

God loves us.

 

Plain and simple. 

 

How do we respond to that love?

 

We respond to it by following the One whom God has given to us—Jesus. 

 

And if we do, Jesus will lead us to eternal life, to the same eternal life he himself received from God.

 

Each of us is called.

 

Each of us has been issued a call from God to serve.

 

It might not have been a dramatic calling—an overwhelming sense of the Presence of God in our lives that motivates us to go and follow Jesus.

 

But each Sunday we receive the invitation.

 

Each time we gather at this altar to celebrate the Eucharist, we are, essentially, called to then go out, refreshed and renewed in our broken selves by this broken Body of Jesus, to serve the broken people of God.

 

We are called to go out and minister, not only by preaching and proclaiming with words, but by who we are, by our very lives and examples.

 

So, let us heed the call of God.

 

Let us do as Abram did in our reading from Genesis did today.

 

“Abram went, as the Lord told him…”

 

Let us, as well, go as God has told us.

 

Let us go knowing full well that heeding God’s call and doing what God calls us to do may mean leaving our country and our kindred and our house—in essence, everything we find comfortable and safe—and going to a foreign place—a place that may be frightening.

 

And going will be doubly frightening when we know we go as imperfect human beings—as people broken and vulnerable.

 

But let us also go sure in our calling from God.

 

Let us go sure that God has blessed each of us, even in our brokenness.

 

Let us go knowing that God loves us, because we too love.

 

Let us go knowing that God will use the cracks and fractures within us, as always, for good.

 

And let us go knowing God will make us whole again in our eternal life.

 

God will make us a blessing to others and God will “bless those who bless us.”

 

What more can we possibly ask of the ministry God has called us 

I Lent

 

February 22, 2026

 Gen. 2.15-17; 3.1-7; Matthew 4.1-11

 

+ Since we’re now well into Lent, let’s do a little Lenten discipline exercise, shall we?

 

I want you to think about something for a moment.

 

I want you to take a moment, right now, and think about something I imagine none of us want to think about.

 

Things like sin and repentance and temptation.

 

But, hey, it’s Lent.

 

This whole season is about thinking about things we don’t normally want to think about.

 

This morning, right now, I want you to think about someone in your life you knew to be a bully.

 

Now I know.

 

You’re immediately probably going to think instantly of a certain someone who kind of dominates our lives right now.

 

But I want you to think about someone in your own life who you viewed or currently view as a bully.

 

Someone maybe in junior high or high school.

 

Maybe a sibling.

 

Or a spouse. Or ex-spouse.

 

Maybe a parent.

 

Or a boss.

 

Or just a neighbor or a guy at the bar or a Karen on the street or at a restaurant.

 

Or maybe it was a priest.

 

Or a Bishop.

 

Think about that person.

 

And think about not only what emotions thinking about that person causes in you right now, but also think about how you responded to that person.

 

How did you respond?

 

Did you respond in anger?

 

Did you ignore them?

 

Did you avoid them?

 

Did you give into your fear?

 

Or did you stand up to them?

 

There’s no right or wrong way to respond.

 

But it is interesting what emotions thinking about such things cause within us.

 

Bullies are a part of our lives, whether we want them to be or not.

 

They are manipulative.

 

They are thuggish.

 

They can often be violent—not only in deeds, but also in words.

 

They wreak havoc.

 

They disrupt and cause upheaval.

 

They are chaos personified.

 

In our Gospel for today, we find a big bully.

 

Satan.

 

He’s being manipulative.

 

He’s being smooth.

 

And he’s being a bully.

 

Or trying to anyway.

 

And he’s trying to bully Jesus.

 

He’s trying to coerce and manipulate Jesus, to make him give up his Messiahship, to give up his tole as God’s Son.

 

When Satan tempts Jesus in the wilderness, he tries to appeal to Jesus’ pride.

 

He knows that Jesus knows he is exactly who is.

 

Satan knows that Jesus truly does have the power to reign and rule, that he has all the power in the world, given to him by God.

 

And Satan further knows that if he could harness that power for himself—for evil—then he will have that power as well.

 

I think what’s really interesting about this story is not so much what it says about Jesus, but what it reveals about Satan.

 Let’s be clear, the Devil in this story is a bully, plain and simple.

 And bullies don’t care about others.

 Satan sure does not care about Jesus.

 In fact, Satan resents Jesus.

 He despises him.

 He’s jealous of him.

 Bullies only care about themselves---about who they are and who they are in relation to others.

 Maybe that’s not right either.

 I don’t think they even care who they are in relation to others.

 Because others don’t matter.

 Others are simply things.

 They’re not people.

Others are there simply to fulfill what the bully needs.

And what is it the bully needs?

The bully needs to show and to prove that they are someone.

That they are important.

That they are in control.

And let’s face it, that’s never going to be satisfied.

Which is why bullies bully again and again.

Bullies are experts in aggression, intimidation and deceit.

And they do so to gain power.

And in doing so they become tyrants.

When bullies reign, oppression becomes the norm.

You know who isn’t a bully in our story?

Jesus.

And Jesus shows us how to stand up to bullies.

He does so with a strength Satan the Bully only wishes he could have.

Jesus stands up to Satan the bully with self-confidence and self-assurance.

Jesus knows who he is.

He knows he is the Son of God—the Messiah.

He is loved by God. 

And God loves him.

Jesus doesn’t allow himself to be manipulated and or coerced into something.

In responding to Satan in the wilderness, Jesus models how to stand up to bullies and tyrants.

Because we are followers of Jesus, this is important to us.

Because Jesus shows us the way forward, this is the way for us to deal with bullies as well.

We should always stand up to the bullies in our life with self-assurance.

 With confidence.

 With the holy self-assurance of confidence that we, too, are children of God.

 That we too are loved by God.

 That we too are anointed.

 That we too don’t need to bully in return.

 After all, you can’t follow Jesus and be a bully too.

 So, this Lenten season, let’s truly join Jesus and stand up to the bullies and tyrants in our lives.

 This Lent, let's give up giving in to bullying and tyranny.

 Let Jesus’ example of standing up to the powers of this world be the way for us to move through not only the wasteland of Lent, but also the wasteland of our world and our society right now.

 

Let us do so, like Jesus, with confidence and strength.

 

Let us remind ourselves that are beloved and anointed children of our loving God.

 

If we do so, we will prevail over the powers of bullies and despots.

 

We will rise above the dark forces that tempt us and threaten to hurt us and bring us down.

 

What better way to make this season of Lent a time of holy renewal in our lives?

 

Ash Wednesday

 

February 18, 2026

 Joel  2.1-2,12-17; 2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10; Matthew 6.1-6,16-21

+ One of the things someone who preaches regularly must deal with is the fact that, on occasionally, people are going to critique my sermons.

 I usually don’t mind.

 Though I also warn people who do so that they will be invited to give the sermon the next Sunday.

 And to be prepared for a critique in return.

 But one critique I received was one several years.

 This is one that is often common among Progressive Christians.

 I had a parishioner tell me that they were not appreciative of me preaching to them about sin during Lent.

 I responded to this person the only way I knew how to.

 I said, “I preach about sin during Lent because  I am a sinner too, right?”

 And that’s the truth.

 But the fact is, we all are sinners.

 Sin—falling short of what we are meant of what God created us to be—is something we all deal with.

 It is a common experience in our lives.

 And for, me, that’s what Ash Wednesday is all about.

 This is our time to admit God and to one another,

 “I am a sinner too.”

 We’re all in this boat together.

 It might be different for you as opposed to someone else who is here tonight.

 But each of our dealing with our own sins, in our own ways.

 That doesn’t mean we say that so we can then whip ourselves, or bash ourselves or be self-deprecating.

 We say it as a simple acknowledgment of our humanity before God, our imperfection.

 That is exactly what we do tonight and for these next 40 days.

 During Lent, we will be hearing about sin.

 We will be hearing about repentance.

 We will be reminded of the fact that, yes, we have fallen short in our lives.

 And tonight especially, we will be reminded that one day, each of here tonight will one day stop breathing and die.

 We are reminded tonight in very harsh terms that we are, ultimately, dust.

 And that we will, one day, return to dust.

 Yup.

 Unpleasant.

 But…

 …sometimes we need to be reminded of these things.

 Because, let’s face it.

 We spend most of our lives avoiding these things.

 We spend a good portion of our lives avoiding hearing these things.

 We go about for the most part with our fingers in our ears.

 We go about pretending we are going to live forever.

 We go about thinking we’re not really like everyone else.

 We think: I’m just a little bit more special than everyone else.

 Maybe…maybe…I’m the exception.

 Of course we do that.

 Because, for each of us, the mighty ME is the center of our universe.

 We as individuals are the center of our own personal universe.

 So, when we are confronted during Lent with the fact that, ultimately, the mighty ME is not the center of the universe, is not even the center of the universe of maybe the person who is closest to me, it can be sobering.

 And there we go.

 Lent is about sobering up.

 It is about being sober.

 About looking long and hard at the might ME and being realistic about ME.

 And my relationship with the God who is, actually, the center of the universe and creation and everything that is.

 It’s hard, I know, to come to that realization.

 It’s hard to hear these things.

 It’s hard to have hear the words we hear tonight as those ashes are placed on our foreheads,

 “You are dust and to dust you shall return.”

 You are dust.

 I am dust.

 We are dust.

 We are ashes.

 And we are going to return to dust.

 Yes.

 It’s hard.

 But…

 Lent is also about moving forward.

 It is about living our lives fully and completely within the limitations of the fact that are dust.

 Our lives are like jazz to some extent.

 For people who do not know jazz, they think it is just free-form music.

 There are no limits to it.

 But that’s not true.

 There is a framework for jazz.

 Very clearly defined boundaries.

 But, within that framework there is freedom.

 Our lives are like that as well.

 Our mortality is the framework of our lives.

 We have boundaries.

 We have limits.

 And I am going to talk about those limits during this season of Lent.

 I am going to be talking throughout these forty days about a term one of my heroes coined.

 That hero, Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, the great Jesuit priest and paleontologist, talked about something like passive diminishments.

 Passive diminishments, according to Chardin, are simply those sufferings in this life that we cannot avoid.

 They are the limits in our lives—the hard boundaries of our existence that we cannot avoid.

 I’m not going to go into them too deeply tonight.

 But I will during the Sundays of this season.

 Tonight, though I will say this:

 Within those limits, within the boundaries of those passive diminishments, we have lots of freedom.

 And we have the potential to do a lot of good and a lot of bad.

 Lent is the time for us to stop doing the bad and start doing the good.

 It is time for us to store up for ourselves treasure in heaven, as we hear Jesus tell us tonight in our Gospel reading.

 It is time for work on improving ourselves.

 And sometimes, to do that, we need to shed some things.

 It is good to give up things for Lent.

 The reality however is this:

 Yes, we can give up sugar or caffeine or meat or tangible things that might not do us good.

 But let me just say this about that.

 If we give up something for Lent, let it be something that changes us for the better.

 Let it be things that improve us.

 Let us not only give up things in ourselves, but also things around us.

 Yes, we can give up nagging, but maybe we should also give up those voices around us that nag.

 Or maybe confront those voices that nag too much at us.

 Yes, we can give up being controlling and trying to change things we can’t.

 But we maybe also try hard to push back and speak out against those unreasonably controlling forces in our own lives.

 Maybe Lent should be a time to give up not only anger in ourselves, but those angry voices around us.

 Lent is a time to look at the big picture of our lives and ask: what is my legacy?

 How am I going to be remembered?

 Are people going to say of our legacies what we heard this evening from the prophet Joel?

 “Do not make your heritage a mockery…”

 Am I going to be known as the nag? As that angry, bitter person?

 Am I going to be known as a controlling, manipulative person who always had to get my way?

 Am I going to be known as a gossip, as a backbiter, as a person who professed my faith in a loving and accepting God on my lips, but certainly did not live it out in my life?

 If so, then there is no better time than Lent to change our legacy.

 That is our rallying cry during Lent as well.

 Let us choose to be a good, compassionate, humble, love-filled follower of Jesus.

 That is the legacy we should choose during this season, and from now on.

 After all, we ARE ashes.

 We are dust.

 We are temporary.

 We are not immortal.

 We are bound by our passive diminishments.

 But our legacies will outlive us.

 In fact, in many ways, they are, outside of our salvation, ultimately, the most important thing about our future.

 Let us live in to the legacy that will outlive us.

 This is probably the best Lenten discipline we can do.

 Most importantly, let this holy season of Lent be a time of reflection and self-assessment.

Let it be a time of growth—both in our self-awareness and in our awareness of God’s presence in the goodness in our life.

As St. Paul says in our reading from this evening: “Now is the acceptable time.”

“Now is the day of salvation.”

It is the acceptable time.

It is the day of salvation.

It is time for us to take full advantage of it.