A reflection on Luke 13:1-9

The people gathered there that day were furious. While in Jerusalem to offer their sacrifices, several Galileans were cut down, mid-pilgrimage, by the state, plucked from the earth too soon. There was little love lost between the Galileans and the Romans who occupied their land. Pontius Pilate, their governor, was known for his brutality and injustice. This, clearly, was another example of that.

Perhaps the Galileans were sadly getting used to it. Pilate was a cruel leader. He intentionally caused harm to anyone that dared stand in his way. The Galileans knew all about Pax Romana, aka Roman peace. They knew it was “peace” gained through slaughter, “peace” gained through slavery. It was “peace” driven by an unquenchable greed for power, money, land. This kind of peace, for all but a handful of the ruling class, came at an incredible collective cost.

What the Galileans weren’t prepared for was what the governor did next. He ordered that the blood of their fallen friends be mixed with the blood of the animals they sacrificed to their Lord. Pilate’s actions went against everything in their faith they knew to be true. And went against everything they desired from the government official who ruled their land.
The people were upset, angry, scared. They were likely ready to take action, to revolt against this unjust ruler with force. They wanted Jesus, a fellow Galilean, to know all about it. Perhaps he might lead them into the fray.

Pivot
The people knew about taking an eye for an eye.
But that creates a vicious cycle of violence.
Instead, they were asked to turn the other cheek.

Christ then queries the crowd, shifting the conversation.

Do you think your fallen friends were worse than all the others? Unless you turn to God it could happen to you. And how about the ones crushed when that tower collapsed and fell on them? Do you think they were worse citizens than all the rest? Not at all. Unless you turn to God, it could happen to you too.

With his response Jesus sought to move the people –

From outward rage toward inward reflection,
From a focus on death to what we do with this life,
From retribution to reconciliation.

Having their attention, Christ continued to share.

Consider the fig tree. It has been in the vineyard for a while now. It bears no fruit. The landowner, seeing this, grows impatient, desires to cut it down. The gardener, who has put a lot of effort into caring for the tree already, advocates for the tree.

Let me water it, fertilize it, really dig in with it, the gardener pleads.
Let me do all of that some more.
Give it every chance to grow, blossom, bear fruit.

Just as the tree was created to do.

Today
Today’s text is timely. It reminds us that government leaders can be cruel. And that it is natural for us to be upset about the harm they cause.

It reminds us, too, that life can be short, and unpredictable.
And can end, unexpectedly, in the blink of an eye.

Because of this, my friends, what we do with this life,
In the here and now, matters much.

Instead of tearing down this kingdom,
We are called to build back God’s kingdom.

Christ calls us to –
Put down our pitchforks and torches, and
Pick up our shovels and our trowels.

For we are called to garden God’s land.

To rebuild relationship with our Lord.
To rebuild relationship with our neighbor.

And to give our neighbors every chance to grow, blossom, and bear fruit.

No matter who that neighbor may be.
No matter what that neighbor may have done.
No matter how long our toiling may take.
No matter if we ever see the fruits of our labor.

Romero Prayer
In 1979 Catholic Bishop Ken Untener wrote a prayer for a service celebrating departed priests. The prayer has since been called the Romero Prayer, in honor of the martyred Archbishop of San Salvador, Oscar Romero. Romero spoke out against social injustice and violence in his country, which was increasingly becoming the norm in El Salvador.

The prayer is this:

It helps, now and then, to step back and take the long view.

The Kingdom is not only beyond our efforts; it is even beyond our vision.

We accomplish in our lifetime only a fraction of the magnificent enterprise that is God’s work.

Nothing we do is complete, which is another way of saying that the kingdom always lies beyond us.

No statement says all that could be said. No prayer fully expresses our faith. No confession brings perfection. No pastoral visit brings wholeness. No program accomplishes the church’s mission. No set of goals and objectives includes everything.

This is what we are about.

We plant the seeds that one day will grow. We water the seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise. We lay foundations that will need further development. We provide yeast that produces effects far beyond our capabilities.

We cannot do everything and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that. This enables us to do something and to do it well. It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for the Lord’s grace to enter and do the rest. We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker.

We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs.

We are prophets of a future not our own.  Amen.

Today’s text from Luke 6:17-26 finds Jesus early in his ministry. Christ’s teaching and preaching had begun. The sick came to him, hoping for relief. High fevers were cooled, withered arms outstretched. The lame walked. The blind saw.

Jesus was, without a doubt, the talk of the towns he travelled to.

The twelve disciples had recently been invited to follow Jesus. Their acceptance of Christ’s call was a fork in the road. It required they leave everything they had and knew behind. They embarked on the journey without food, without money. Instead, they relied solely on God’s provision. It was a provision, they would soon learn, that manifested itself, again and again, through the kindness of strangers.

Jesus then came down the mountain, the disciples by his side. A great multitude gathered from all around.

The people came to listen.
The people came to be made well.

It was a gathering of those without.
It was a gathering of those in need.

All who tried to touch Jesus did.
Power came out of him.
All who gathered were made whole.

Their needs, in real time, were met.

Blessings
Healings now complete, Jesus turned to the assembly to speak:

Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the Kingdom.
Blessed are you who are hungry, for you will be filled.
Blessed are you who weep, for you will laugh.
Blessed are you when people hate and exclude you,
for your reward is great in heaven.

This is the Jesus we know.
This is the Jesus we love.

It is the Jesus ever present with us.
It is the Jesus that always has our back.

It is human nature for us to want to find the blessings for ourselves within this text. And why not? Feeling blessed makes us feel loved, supported, part of something bigger than us.

I’d suggest each of us can find ourselves in these blessings somewhere along the way.

For me it was graduate school, in the Fall of 1998, at Cleveland State in Ohio. That year I was downright broke. My apartment was a 220 square feet efficiency housed in the downtown YMCA. My car was a sixteen-year-old clunker 1982 Subaru; Blue Book value: $400. My diet consisted of ramen noodles, which, when they went on sale were 10 for $1, and packages of 25 cent generic mac & cheese. If I had a little extra, I would splurge on a box of cereal.

I look back on that year now fondly. I was blessed with a roof over my head that didn’t leak. I was blessed with government student loans, making so much more, career wise, possible. I was blessed to be a Teaching Assistant, and had a local internship, both that paid me to learn. I was blessed with a girlfriend who, when money was really low, would mail me a care package from Flagstaff Arizona complete with a check to see me through. I’d later marry that girlfriend. Which was another blessing to be sure.

At the time Christianity wasn’t on my radar. I attended no church, had no ponderings about God. But Christ was there, whether I knew it or not, through the kindness of others, blessing me along the way.

I’d encourage you to ponder the many blessings you have received that got you to where you are right now. My guess is they are countless.

Woes
The feel-good portion of his sermon complete, Jesus continues.

Woe to you who are rich, for you have received yours.
Woe to you who are full, for you will be hungry.
Woe to you who are laughing, for you will weep.
Woe to you when all speak well of you,
for you are considered false prophets.

Woe to you? It’s enough to make me squirm. Are you wealthy, full, laughing, well-liked? Is Jesus saying woe to you?

Financially I’m fine.
My belly is full.
I enjoy laughter.
I’m even well-liked. Sometimes.

Is Jesus saying woe to me?

Said differently, woe to you is to wish profound distress on a person.

If these woes apply to you, and they do for yours truly – I’ve got some questions.

Why would Jesus want us to feel distressed?
With these feelings of discomfort now upon us –
how might Jesus want us to respond?

Synthesis
In the late 19th century Chicago Evening Post journalist Finley Peter Dunne wrote that the job of the newspaper is to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable. Many clergy will tell you that, too, is the role of the preacher. But our source material for that notion comes much earlier.

Because this is precisely what Luke’s Beatitudes, with their four paired blessings and woes, do. The language here mirrors Mary’s Magnificat a few chapters earlier. When hearing she was to give birth to the savior of the world Mary couldn’t help but sing that the Lord has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty. Simply put Mother Mary and her Son seek to turn the world as we know it upside down.

I’d suggest that our response to this distress, this affliction we may feel, when we follow Christ’s call, represents nothing less than the heart of the gospel.

Our faithful response echoes the fruits of the Spirit when we care for others with love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

Our faithful response embodies Luther’s explanation of the 8th commandment, that we are not to tell lies about our neighbors, or destroy their reputation. Instead we are to speak well of them, and interpret everything they do in the best possible light.

Our faithful response epitomizes what it is to follow Christ’s greatest command: to love our neighbors as ourselves.

It is our call then to bless those in need.

Blessed are you who are poor,
Blessed are you who are hungry,
Blessed are you who weep,
Blessed are you when people exclude you.

Yes.

And also –
Blessed are you who aid the poor,
Blessed are you who feed the hungry,
Blessed are you who comfort the sad,
Blessed are you who include who others exclude.

We do an awful lot of that here at St. John’s.
It is something we can be very proud of.
Many of us do an awful lot of that elsewhere too.

And when we don’t?

Woe to you.
Woe to me.
Woe to us.

These woes represent an important reminder that we need to get back on the wagon and care for all of God’s children. Especially those society often neglects.

Theologian and pastor Karl Barth once famously said this: Take your Bible and take your newspaper and read both. But interpret newspapers from your Bible.

I try to keep this in mind every time I approach the pulpit.

Our American news cycle these past few weeks has been nothing less than an unmitigated hot mess. There’s no way around it. This entire sermon easily could have been filled with stories pulled from our headlines and lined up with the words of Jesus we hear today.

We could talk about the US Agency for International Development, or USAID.
We could talk about Lutheran Services in America, and Lutheran Services in Iowa.
We could talk about US plans to force Palestinians from Gaza and instead turn it into the Riviera of the Middle East.

Instead, I liked to focus on just one news story from earlier this week.

On Wednesday, Elon Musk posted a meme on his social media platform, X, showing a blue-eyed young blond woman sporting a bright smile with this caption, “Watching federal programs slashed because it doesn’t affect you because you’re not a member of the ‘Parasite Class.’”

Here we have the richest man in the world, given immense power by our presidential administration, who is publicly and unashamedly dehumanizing entire groups of people.

Let’s interpret this news with today’s gospel:

Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the Kingdom.
Woe to you who are rich, for you have received yours.

The pairing speaks for itself.

Far too often we let our government inform our faith. The opposite should be true. Our faith should inform how we vote, how we govern, how we speak, who we serve, how we serve, how we lead.

As Christians we too are at a fork in the road. Will we follow Christ’s call?

People of God, know this: we are called to more. Amen.

A little over three years ago, while discerning a possible call to be your next Senior Pastor, I found myself poring over 15 pages of paperwork the Synod provided about St. John’s.

In it two particular items stood out. First, that this congregation, “seeks to exemplify God’s unconditional and inclusive love for people of all walks, stages and circumstances of life.”

And second, that this congregation was looking for a Pastor to “develop priorities to put new definition on underscoring our tagline, In the City For Good.”

When in conversation with the call committee, I found myself asking for more detail on both, wondering as any good Lutheran would –

What does this mean?

The call committee described St. John’s deep history of LGBTQ inclusion, feeding programs through our Connection Café Bridge partnership, and being a founding member of what would become Central Iowa Shelter & Services.

I learned too that the Connection Café serves lunch to people regardless of their sexual orientation, race, ethnicity, nation of origin, immigration status, primary language, and whether or not they have a job or a home. They don’t ask for ID; they serve lunch to whoever shows up, no questions asked.

The call committee shared that we welcome and serve people here at St. John’s regardless of pretty much anything.

We then talked about practical ways we could build on that identity, and what that might look like in the coming years.

I found myself curious, excited about the possibility of serving a congregation with such lofty, Christlike ideals. And not just ideals. Because it sounded, to these ears, that this congregation was serious about intentionally living that out, together, as a people of faith.

Continued conversations between candidate and committee went well enough that, well, here we are.

Inclusion
Today we celebrate our one-year anniversary of becoming a Reconciling in Christ congregation. Today represents the culmination of some of our early work together to become a more intentionally inclusive church. While the Reconciling In Christ designation began over 40 years ago by prioritizing LGBTQ inclusion, who it includes is much, much broader. For All Are Welcome means all.

Our new Welcome Statement, ratified during our annual meeting last February, says it well:

At St. John’s Lutheran Church, we believe that all people are created in God’s image and that we honor and respect all that God has created. As a community of faith, our mission is to be a caring, loving people, actively engaged in God’s work.

We affirm, love, embrace, and invite all people in celebration of race, color, gender identity and expression, sexual orientation, age, marital status, mental and physical abilities, cultural background, immigration status, education, and varied faith journeys. We respect and are committed to racial equality, anti-racism, and the promotion of social and economic justice.

We believe that God’s grace is unlimited. We strive to extend that grace as we welcome and encourage you, in person and virtually, to join the congregational life and ministries of St. John’s Lutheran Church: In the City…and beyond…for Good.

We approved this statement of welcome by a 98% yes vote. In other words This.Is.Us. As a congregation we agreed, almost universally, to it. Now comes the hard part: we are called to live these lofty ideals out.

Isaiah
Our lectionary text from Luke 4:14-21 speaks to these ideals well. In it Jesus had just returned from the wilderness after being tested for 40 days by Satan. Having eaten nothing, and being tempted to give it all up, he passes the tests. Jesus now has newfound resolve. He knew who he was. He knew what he came to earth to do.

It is with this backdrop Jesus gives his first public words recorded in Luke, an inaugural sermon in the synagogue. Jesus stood up, received the scroll, unrolled it, found a passage from Isaiah, and began to read. The passage proclaims:

• good news to the poor,
• release to the captives,
• sight to the blind,
• setting free the oppressed.

Similar to the beatitudes, the Greek word for poor can mean many things. It is to be poor in money, poor in power, to be spiritually bankrupt. Said differently, this brief passage proclaims good news, release, and freedom for all.

Jesus then rolled up the scroll, gave it to the attendant, and sat down. Today, he affirms, this scripture has been fulfilled.

It is the ultimate inclusion, spoken two millennia ago, by Christ.

Because God’s love, and radical embrace of us, no matter who we are, is universal.

While Jesus spoke, we’re told that the eyes of everyone in the room were fixed on him. Those gathered that day weren’t distracted. They weren’t looking away. As sometimes happens with sermons they weren’t even sleeping. Or drooling!

They were focused.

The implications of this text, and how we live that out, are something we grapple with to this day.

Now
Newly inaugurated President Donald Trump has been busy his first week in office. To date he has signed 32 Executive orders covering topics like human rights, climate change, and pardoning all January 6 rioters, regardless of the crimes they committed.

One of these orders rescinded a previous executive order that prevented discrimination on the basis of gender identity and sexual orientation. The order says the federal government will no longer recognize gender identity and classify people as either male or female.

Separately, multiple independent sources have confirmed Iowa Governor Kim Reynolds will introduce legislation to remove basic human rights protections from transgender Iowans.

Said differently, at both the state and national level our government seeks to define transgender Americans out of existence.

It is fair to wonder what rights our government might try to take from the LGBTQ community next.

Also this week, President Trump authorized Immigration and Customs Enforcement, or ICE, to directly target courthouses, schools, hospitals, funerals, weddings, and churches. This action rolls back a previous policy, in place since 2011, that prohibited ICE from arresting suspected undocumented immigrants in these locations and gatherings.

Separately, there are reports of ICE agents, in plain clothes, visiting Des Moines hospitals this week. There are also reports that ICE has been confronting some unhoused individuals in the metro, particularly on the south side.

It is fair to wonder what else our government might try to do to install fear and inflict harm among the refugees, immigrants and asylum seekers in our lands. Many of whom are our neighbors, our church members, our friends.

Preach
This past Tuesday, at the National Cathedral inaugural prayer service in Washington DC, a day after President Trump’s inauguration, Episcopalian Bishop Miriann Budde preached on the three foundations of unity: 1) the inherent dignity of every human being, 2) honesty, and 3) humility.

As Bishop Budde neared the end of her sermon, she took a breath, looked directly at President Trump, and concluded her message by saying this:

Mr. President, millions have put their trust in you. And as you told the nation yesterday, you have felt the providential hand of a loving God. In the name of our God, I ask you to have mercy on the people in our country who are scared now. There are gay, lesbian and transgender children in Democratic, Republican and independent families. Some who fear for their lives.

And the people who pick our crops and clean our office buildings, who labor in poultry farms and meat packing plants, who wash the dishes in restaurants, who work the night shifts in hospitals. They may not be citizens, nor have the proper documentation, but the vast majority of immigrants are not criminals. They pay taxes and are good neighbors. They are faithful members of our churches, mosques, synagogues and temples.

I ask you to have mercy Mr. President, on those in our communities whose children fear their parents will be taken away. And that you help those who are fleeing war zones and persecution in their own lands, to find compassion and welcome here. Our God teaches us that we are to be merciful to the stranger, for we were all once strangers in this land.

In our text from Luke 4 today, the eyes of everyone in the room were fixed on Jesus as he spoke. But that is not what happened in the National Cathedral Tuesday. When this plea went out video of the service shows President Trump looked away. Many other newly elected leaders, their spouses and family members looked away too. When asked to show mercy to people, many of our elected officials couldn’t, or wouldn’t, look the preacher in the eye.

Here
People of God, know this: we are called to more.

We are called to have mercy and to welcome, include, serve and protect all of God’s children.

Here at St. John’s we will continue to baptize, confirm, marry and bury people regardless of their orientation, national origin or immigration status. We will continue to invite them into full participation in the life of this church and to be active as clergy, staff, lay leaders and members.

We will continue to refer to people using their pronouns, be it he/him, she/her, or they/them. We will continue to affirm and support our transgender and non-binary siblings in Christ. For they are, as we all are, fellow children of God.

We will continue to serve meals through Connection Café to whoever shows up, without documentation, no matter who they may be. We will continue to welcome all flavors of humanity to worship with us, regardless of their citizenship status, primary language, regardless of whether they slept at home the night before, or just outside our doors. For we were all once strangers in this land.

This week we will add signage to our doors indicating St. John’s is private property. And that unauthorized entry, including by ICE or Homeland Security, without a judicial warrant, is not allowed.

We will continue to welcome, care for, serve, include, love, show mercy and protect the dignity of all people who walk through our doors.

We do so unequivocally.
We do so without apology.
We can do no other.

This, my friends, is what means to share the Good News.

While the morality of our country continues to erode, we will not stand idly by.

This is a time to celebrate who we are a Reconciling in Christ church. It’s a big deal! Very few churches in our area are. This is also the time to live out what it means for us to be In The City For Good.

For we know who we are. And we know what Christ calls us here to do.  Amen.

 

A reflection on Luke 1:39-45

Today’s gospel text is likely familiar. It is a story of two pregnant cousins, Mary and Elizabeth. After travelling Mary meets Elizabeth at the door. Upon hearing Mary’s greeting the child leaps in Elizabeth’s womb.

Elizabeth, overcome with excitement, exclaims loudly:

Blessed are you among women!
Blessed is the fruit of your womb!
Blessed is she who believes,
what was spoken by the Lord!

It is a Hallmark moment,
Where all is right.

It is going to Disneyworld,
Preparing for the best of days.

It is the perfect gift,
Under the tree,
All wrapped up,
Tied with a bow.

As well-timed baby kicks often do, this one connects two worlds where Elizabeth resides. The first is the world as it is. The second is world within her, and Mary, that is soon to be.

Elizabeth excitedly shares this joy with her cousin, and all of us, today.

Pondering the energy that bursts from this text, I asked friends on social media to share their baby kick memories and what the moments meant to them. Surprisingly, only women shared, even tho we men experience kicks, tho perhaps in a different way. Here are a few stories shared by friends.

Amanda Kress had first flutters at an I-Cubs game. Actually it was after the game, during fireworks. The kicks reassured her, and let Amanda know the child was already connecting with the world around them with a bang.

Jealaine Marple remembers not kicks but dancing. During chapel at seminary, the organ would start playing and her child would get down, breakdancing to the beat. How cool is that.

Karen Andeweg remembers not kicks, but something more akin to rolls. And hiccups late at nite when she was trying to sleep. It was a reminder for her that good news was brewing within.

Second Look
While today’s gospel text is familiar there is more to this tale.

Consider Mary. At around 13 years old Mary was pregnant, and unwed. Her fiancée Joseph was not the father. Initially he considered calling the nuptials off. Had this happened Mary would have been an unwed teenage mother. Society would have judged her harshly, unfairly. Perhaps in our day not much has changed.

Consider Elizabeth. Nearing 90 years old at the time of her pregnancy it too was a surprise. She and her husband had tried for years to have a child. Until then it wasn’t to be. Would this time be different? What if the problems her and Zachariah experienced with having a child were about to happen again?

The two women couldn’t help but be anxious, fearful, afraid. In their own way they each had a high-risk pregnancy. They had much to gain. They had much to lose.

It is with this backdrop that Mary went to visit Elizabeth. It was no short trip; Mary trekked more than sixty miles for the visit, either by mule or by foot. The trip for her likely would have been hard.

As the two embraced there was excitement in the air.

As well-timed baby kicks often do, the kick brought with it joy to the cousins, yes. But it did more. It helped the pair overcome the fears they faced. They were not alone, they had each other, they had a sign that all was well. The women, who were 75 years apart in age celebrated, together.

It is a reminder that God is faithful to us across the generations.
It is a reminder too that God meets us where we’re at.
And meets us no matter where that may be.

This includes meeting the sadness of couples who want to have a child but are unable to.

Here are a few other baby kick stories friends shared that delve into how God meets us amid the messiness of life.

Kira Ward, during her last pregnancy, at age 40, faced a challenge. The umbilical cord that connected mother and child had a condition, that if the vessel burst, could limit oxygen to the baby. This naturally worried her and husband Brian a good bit. The kicks, when they happened, were a real-time reassurance that the baby boy was doing just fine, that all was well.

Sara remembers that every kick scared her. And for good reason: she had lost six babies before her son was born. Kicking would startle her, she’d then sigh in relief. And what was better than the ‘was that a kick phase’ for Sara? The new game her baby made up she playfully calls the ‘can I reach your bladder with my foot.’ Often the baby won. And off to the bathroom she went 😊.

Dawn Trautman decided to be a single mother by choice, and has loved nearly every bit of it. She has a strong community and people fiercely kind about showing up for every big moment for her daughter. But her baby kicks during pregnancy couldn’t be scheduled. She was alone or among strangers every time they happened. She laments never getting to share that with anyone in a tactile “feel my belly” kind of way.

Veronica Smith had an anterior placenta, and because of that never expected to feel a kick. On Christmas Eve she remembers feeling sad about all this talk of babies and Mary during the service. Telling her husband about how sad she was feeling about it, the unexpected happened. She felt a kick. Then another. And another. Veronica sobbed tears of joy, tears of relief. In the midst of a difficult pregnancy the reminder all was well was beautifully timed.

As we look toward the manger let each of us open our hearts to experience the kicks of new life that surround us. Kicks of new life on the way come in many forms.

It is the call from a friend you haven’t heard from in forever.
It is the relationship evolving in new, healthy ways.
It is the feeling of peace amid tension all around.
It is the sense of hope where before there was none.

For the Holy Spirit is the author of each gentle kick, each nudge we feel.

She reminds us, in the words of the 14th century mystic Julian of Norwich, that

All shall be well,
And all shall be well,
And all manner of things shall be well.

For the savior of the world will be born among us, quite soon. Amen.

A reflection on Mark 13-1-8. 

When my wife and I hit our early 30s, after being together for eleven years, we decided to expand our family. College degrees obtained, careers established, home purchased, for us it was time.

We soon realized bringing new life into the world was harder than we knew.

After eighteen months of trying without success we contacted a fertility specialist. With their help and trying some more – that’s always the fun part – some news.

The pregnancy test delivered. Two solid lines on that plastic stick appeared.

Success!

But it was early. We didn’t tell a soul. Much, we knew, could still go wrong.

Every few days Kathi went to the fertility specialist, with me by her side, for a lab draw to ensure all was well. Initially it was. The hCG number doubled every three days just as it should. Until it didn’t. An ultrasound explained why. No heartbeat could be found.

The embryo had genetic abnormalities incompatible with life. It would have been a boy.

We were five weeks along.
We were devastated.

It took some time to heal heart, body, mind.
Eventually we decided to start over and try again.

Soon enough there was another pregnancy test. Two more solid lines!

We were excited, but cautious. We kept up with our appointments, praying this time would be different.

The first ultrasound showed a heartbeat. Yes!

But the second did not. This embryo would have been a girl.

This time we were eight weeks along.
We grieved some more.

Our fertility doctor performed a D&C on Kathi after both miscarriages, offering their skills, support, empathy, and care. Thank God for medical professionals that specialize in women’s reproductive health.

Progress
Four years after our parenthood journey began, we decided, again, to continue on.

Another positive pregnancy test followed.
Could this third time be the charm?

The hCG numbers doubled as they should. The ultrasound showed a heartbeat. The heartbeat stayed strong. Finally, we reasoned, things were looking good.

We read the book seemingly everyone gets, What to Expect When You’re Expecting, anticipating each upcoming change. Feeling hopeful, we nicknamed this one “Bean,” a playful reference to their size at six weeks.

The first trimester came and went without hitch. The second trimester did too.

We excitedly designed Bean’s nursery, adding the crib, stuffed animals, a changing table. We selected the paint color for their room: cantaloupe. It matched nicely with the Winnie the Pooh motif we selected for the room.

Kathi and I plotted out the birthing plan, defining each detail of how we wanted Bean to be born.

No need to schedule an induction.
Let’s do this naturally, please.

And pain medication?
No need, Kathi said.
Lord knows she is *tough*

Besides, we figured, our doctor would be there, helping us all along the way.

Forty weeks came and went. On Bean’s due date we attended a Spring Training baseball game, knowing the big event would be soon. The Mets beat the Cardinals, in Jupiter, Florida, by a score of 6-4 on that sunny March 5th day.

The Day
Our next prenatal visit four days later brought with it unexpected news. “You need to check into the hospital tonite to be induced,” our doctor shared. Oh boy, I thought. This is it.

“And I’m sorry,” our doctor continued, “but I’m going on vacation. I can’t be there. Don’t worry, another doctor will take my place.” What? That wasn’t the plan.

We worried. Then we worried some more.

Now in the hospital Kathi was induced, and in a lot of pain. Letting go of one more part of the plan she opted for an epidural.

But the epidural didn’t do what we’d hoped; once contractions started her pain was excruciating. “It felt like my insides were being torn in half,” Kathi remembers.

The machines connected to Kathi were beeping; her blood pressure was skyrocketing. Bean’s heartrate dropped dangerously low.

I watched as Kathi was carted off for an emergency C-section, and quickly got ready to join her. As the procedure began the operating room grew quiet. Fear got the best of me. We later learned that Kathi had a uterine window, a hole in the uterus. This hole was literally ripping her apart. If the C-section hadn’t happened when it did, I could have lost them both.

I’ve never been as excited, or as scared, as in those minutes spent waiting to hear the fate of the two people on the planet I loved most.

And then, at 10:19am March 10, 2010, a seven-pound baby girl appeared. She filled her lungs with air, made her first sounds. We named her Hannah Grace Arnold.

As I first held Hannah, looking down at that tiny, peaceful face, and over at my exhausted yet joy-filled wife as she was being stitched up in recovery, I realized something.

Our five-year journey had been long. It was filled with unexpected, unwanted detours. Very little had gone according to our personal plan. There had been very real emotional and physical pain along the way. At times that pain seemed too much to bear.

But you know what? In that March moment none of that painful past mattered. Because my heart was instantly filled with joy, peace, love. For what mattered most was now sleeping in my arms. This new life we’d been waiting for so long had finally arrived.

Then
Today’s gospel from Mark 13:1-8 is also about how difficult it can be to bring new life into the world.

In it the disciples were impressed by the grandiose, great towers of their time. Jesus warns them to guard against being distracted by how things seem. Don’t worship opulence, Christ tells them, for one day it will all be gone.

There will be wars, and rumors of wars, political upheavals, extreme weather, Christ continues. Many will try and lead you astray.

This is a text for our time.
This is a text for all times.

At first blush it is downright depressing.

And yet, on closer inspection, the text offers hope.

Don’t be alarmed, Christ reminds. For all of this must come to pass.

The final two words of this text in verse 8 hold the key to unlocking it: birth pangs. Collectively, right now, we are experiencing labor pain. For God is birthing the kingdom of heaven all around.

Today
We may have our preferences on the birthing plan for this new kingdom. We may have our hopes of when, and how, and with who it all goes down.

But no one knows the time or the day of when this upcoming birth will be fully realized. To focus on our desires for what that looks like is to wholly miss the point.

Our prayer today is our prayer for all days. That –

Thy kingdom come,
Thy will be done,
On earth, as it is, in heaven.

And we, beloved, fortunately get to take part.

We are the helpers, sowing the seeds of this kingdom to come.

Our society sadly is moving toward some unfortunate times. Collectively our culture, more and more is one of anger, grievance, lawlessness, revenge, untruth.

And yet as Christ-followers we know, unequivocally, that none of that is of God.

Instead let us recenter on our faith. May we plant the fruits of the Spirit in our spiritual gardens. May the fruits of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control blossom within us and grow all around. No law can stop us from doing just that.

To strengthen us on our journey from pain to joy, let us practice self-care alongside care of neighbor. So –

Cook for pleasure,
Clean the house,
Winterize your garden,
Volunteer in community,
Dance.

Read scripture,
Read romance,
Read adventure,
Read in public,
Simply read.

Take a walk,
Ride a bike,
Give a hug,
Hold hands,
Sleep.

Take a bath,
Call a friend,
Play a game,
Tell a joke,
Laugh.

Pray,
Worship,
Commune,
Study,
Sing.

Recognize the pain you, and so many others, are in. Don’t deny it. Hold space for it. Give yourself time to heal. With help from above in time you will.

Remember beloved, the kingdom of God grows, right here on earth. It is a beautiful kingdom. Bit by bit it breaks through the decay of this world. Do not be alarmed. We are in labor. For God, with our help, is birthing this world anew. Amen.