![]() But God has so arranged the body, giving the greater honor to the inferior member, that there may be no dissension within the body, but the members may have the same care for one another. If one member suffers, all suffer together with it; if one member is honored, all rejoice together with it. –1 Corinthians 12:24-26 I beg you to lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.
–Ephesians 4:1-3 May is the month in which our new Council will begin to review the 2020 Long-Range Plan, to determine what next steps we will take to continue to grow in our life together at Calvary. Many ministry tasks remain on our To-Do List, from developing new ministries to renovating building space. But before we do any heavy lifting—before we take on any new responsibilities—this may be a good time for a checkup: How are we doing in our life together? How is our “body”—our health as a church? When athletes enter a new season of play they are expected to go through a physical examination to establish a baseline for their health, and verify their fitness for play. So let’s take a look at ourselves. In Paul’s letter to the Corinthians (quoted above), he says that a “healthy body” is a church in which people practice empathy: when one person is in pain other members hurt with him, when someone is honored others rejoice with her. Members of a healthy body see each other’s challenges and joys and say, “I am with you.” But in order to practice this empathy, we also need to allow people room to be vulnerable enough to say when they are suffering, and enough latitude to divulge when they have something to be grateful for. This is what a healthy body looks like. So how are we doing? Paul takes this practice of empathy so seriously that he calls each of us to give greater honor to the “inferior” members of the body. Paul doesn’t name who is inferior, he simply puts the onus on each of us to behave with care so that the body of the church is working together, not being fractured. To act with care we serve each other—whether we are Council members or churchyard gardeners, janitors or doctors, mechanics or on disability, we are called to serve each other with equal compassion. Our calling is not to “step on toes,” but to wash feet. So how are we doing? In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul has more to say about what a healthy body of Christ looks like. Being the body together, he says, involves each of us practicing humility, gentleness, and patience. Acting humbly is related also to what Paul said earlier in 1 Corinthians: None of us should think that we are more important, or more essential to the body of Christ than another; in fact, we should measure our importance based on whether we treat other members with dignity and respect. For instance, are we more intent on being heard than listening? Do we ask questions of others only so we can have our own convictions heard? Or do we engage our brothers and sisters—asking, “How are you?”—with the actual purpose of listening to their honest (perhaps even uncomfortable) response? Gentleness and patience are a part of that humility, because as we behave gently and with patience we tell our neighbor that we are as concerned for their welfare as our own. So how are we doing? As pastor of this congregation, I can tell you that newcomers to this congregation perceive this congregation to be a friendly and welcoming place to worship. That is great feedback to hear—and all too rare in some people’s experience of going to a new church. And I can share my personal impression that we are a pretty healthy congregation, but that we can always improve. But here is the truth about examining the body of Christ, as a whole: The only way this question, “How are we doing?,” can be answered thoroughly is for each of us to examine our own personal behaviors and motivations as we come together as a body at Calvary. In other words, the real question I am asking you to seriously and prayerfully consider is, “How am I doing at contributing to the health of the body of Christ?” So in this season when we are getting ready to do some “heavy lifting,” and take up new ministry responsibilities, I implore you (as Paul begged the Ephesians) to “lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called”: Spend some time reflecting on and praying about how you can be a more humble, patient, kind, and caring member of this body—for the sake of the least among us, and for the sake of encouraging the healthy ministry that we all want to do. Our “body” health will not only attract others to join us in faith, it will encourage those newcomers to be healthy members of the body also. Your sister in Christ, Pastor Lori Cornell
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A Healthy Body
But God has so arranged the body, giving the greater honor to the inferior member, that there may be no dissension within the body, but the members may have the same care for one another. If one member suffers, all suffer together with it; if one member is honored, all rejoice together with it. –1 Corinthians 12:24-26 I beg you to lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. –Ephesians 4:1-3 May is the month in which our new Council will begin to review the 2020 Long-Range Plan, to determine what next steps we will take to continue to grow in our life together at Calvary. Many ministry tasks remain on our To-Do List, from developing new ministries to renovating building space. But before we do any heavy lifting—before we take on any new responsibilities—this may be a good time for a checkup: How are we doing in our life together? How is our “body”—our health as a church? When athletes enter a new season of play they are expected to go through a physical examination to establish a baseline for their health, and verify their fitness for play. So let’s take a look at ourselves. In Paul’s letter to the Corinthians (quoted above), he says that a “healthy body” is a church in which people practice empathy: when one person is in pain other members hurt with him, when someone is honored others rejoice with her. Members of a healthy body see each other’s challenges and joys and say, “I am with you.” But in order to practice this empathy, we also need to allow people room to be vulnerable enough to say when they are suffering, and enough latitude to divulge when they have something to be grateful for. This is what a healthy body looks like. So how are we doing? Paul takes this practice of empathy so seriously that he calls each of us to give greater honor to the “inferior” members of the body. Paul doesn’t name who is inferior, he simply puts the onus on each of us to behave with care so that the body of the church is working together, not being fractured. To act with care we serve each other—whether we are Council members or churchyard gardeners, janitors or doctors, mechanics or on disability, we are called to serve each other with equal compassion. Our calling is not to “step on toes,” but to wash feet. So how are we doing? In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul has more to say about what a healthy body of Christ looks like. Being the body together, he says, involves each of us practicing humility, gentleness, and patience. Acting humbly is related also to what Paul said earlier in 1 Corinthians: None of us should think that we are more important, or more essential to the body of Christ than another; in fact, we should measure our importance based on whether we treat other members with dignity and respect. For instance, are we more intent on being heard than listening? Do we ask questions of others only so we can have our own convictions heard? Or do we engage our brothers and sisters—asking, “How are you?”—with the actual purpose of listening to their honest (perhaps even uncomfortable) response? Gentleness and patience are a part of that humility, because as we behave gently and with patience we tell our neighbor that we are as concerned for their welfare as our own. So how are we doing? As pastor of this congregation, I can tell you that newcomers to this congregation perceive this congregation to be a friendly and welcoming place to worship. That is great feedback to hear—and all too rare in some people’s experience of going to a new church. And I can share my personal impression that we are a pretty healthy congregation, but that we can always improve. But here is the truth about examining the body of Christ, as a whole: The only way this question, “How are we doing?,” can be answered thoroughly is for each of us to examine our own personal behaviors and motivations as we come together as a body at Calvary. In other words, the real question I am asking you to seriously and prayerfully consider is, “How am I doing at contributing to the health of the body of Christ?” So in this season when we are getting ready to do some “heavy lifting,” and take up new ministry responsibilities, I implore you (as Paul begged the Ephesians) to “lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called”: Spend some time reflecting on and praying about how you can be a more humble, patient, kind, and caring member of this body—for the sake of the least among us, and for the sake of encouraging the healthy ministry that we all want to do. Our “body” health will not only attract others to join us in faith, it will encourage those newcomers to be healthy members of the body also. Your sister in Christ, Pastor Lori Cornell A friend of mine asked a provocative and slightly disturbing question this past Holy Week: If the story of Jesus ended with Good Friday and Jesus breathing his last breath, would that be enough for us to call Jesus our Savior—our Messiah? The immediate, anxious, and pious response we want to give is, “No! Jesus can’t be our Messiah without the empty tomb! Jesus isn’t the Christ without resurrection.”
But consider this question more carefully, for the thoughtfulness it’s intended to evoke: What do we see in Jesus on Good Friday, that makes him a different kind of Messiah? Lutheran Christians are notable (some might say “notorious”) for our insistence that we can’t simply leap from the “Hosannas!” of Palm Sunday to the “Hallelujahs!” of Easter (though that is the practice of many church traditions). Nor do we believe we should linger, in maudlin fashion, on the bodily sufferings of Jesus, as if understanding the gruesomeness of his suffering will help us get into the mind of God and appreciate the pain he endured for our sake. Instead, Good Friday is profoundly connected to Easter, because of what it confirms about Jesus through his death on the cross. Jesus rules with love, not force No sooner is Jesus arrested by the soldiers and the Jewish police, than his side-kick Peter decides to defend Jesus violently. Jesus’ response? “Put your sword back in its sheath” (John 18:11). Jesus refuses to attempt to win hearts by force. (And, truth be told, no one actually ever has.) This is not the way Jesus’ kingdom operates. Instead, Jesus asks the authorities to listen to the people’s testimonies, “I have spoken openly to the world.… Ask those who heard me” (John 18:20-21). Jesus’ kingdom is a matter of the heart, not a matter of the sword. “My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over...” (18:36). Jesus asserts his authority by serving. In John’s Passion narrative, Jesus is disturbingly silent. He is whipped, scorned, mocked, and abused, and speaks few words in response to these cruel rejections. But after he has been forced to carry his own cross all the way to Golgotha, and is raised up on it, suffering while soldiers cast lots for his garment, he looks down on his mother and is (strangely) concerned for her well-being: “Woman, here is your son,” he says pointing to his disciple John; and to the disciple he says: “Here is your mother” (John 19:26-27). Jesus may have no power over what others do to him, but he cares about the future of his mother enough to turn away from his own dire need to prepare a future for Mary. We shouldn’t be surprised by this gesture: This is the very same Jesus who demonstrated the power of his kingdom by washing his disciples’ feet (John 13:2b-8); who said, “Unless I wash you, you have no share in me.” Jesus knows that it’s in receiving his humbling compassion that his followers learn the power of ministering out of that same compassion. In Good Friday we see the compassion of God embodied in Jesus’ own love and compassion. We see the Son, who knows the Father, and is close to the Father’s heart, turning—not away from humankind—but toward us. What a Messiah God has given us! And, if Good Friday were the end of Jesus’ story, it would still be worth telling. But Jesus’ compassion and love don’t simply prove his worth while his body remains in the tomb. If that were the case, we might have concluded: “He was a decent guy, who died an unjust death. Oh well.” But Easter pronounces a different verdict: Jesus’ compassion and love survive his death to change us! We Lutheran Christians linger long enough in the days before Easter to understand that Jesus’ death, and our human culpability, frailty, and divine need, are irrefutable. Good Friday declares an end to human pretensions and excuses, and makes the necessity of God’s intervention (Easter) brilliantly apparent. Celebrating Easter On Easter Sunday we reclaim the practice of singing “Alleluias” after having buried them for the season of Lent and especially Holy Week. We sing those “Alleluias” loudly—not to outshout or deny death, but because we’ve walked with Jesus from the reality of death into a new resurrection life. We celebrate the radiance of Easter, the height of God’s love and compassion, because we have also witnessed God in the depths of his compassion and love on Good Friday. Easter is God’s assertion that neither death nor life, nor things present nor things to come, will be able to separate us from God’s love and compassion in Jesus Christ. And we know that to be true because Jesus really died, and now has risen for us. Risen from the grave, Jesus brings from the open tomb the very love and compassion in which he died, to share with the world. Jesus, who invited Peter, now invites us to “have a share” in him. He offers us his life (his compassion, his love) in his resurrection, and our hearts are moved to faith. Unselfish in death, Jesus is unselfish with his resurrection too. And we, who now sing “Alleluias” to him, find ourselves re-created by his Easter to live lives of … you guessed it: love and compassion. Alleluia! Christ, who descended to the dead, is risen. And we are raised with him so that this world (in our here and now) may be a place of deeper compassion and love. May you be richly, deeply blessed by Christ’s compassion and love. Pastor Lori Cornell I was lying in a hospital bed in the emergency room St. Paul, Minnesota talking fervently to God. Why would God allow this to happen to me? When would God deliver me from the excruciating pain I was suffering? After being poked and prodded, hooked up to an IV, passed through a CT scanner, and answering myriad questions about my personal habits, a diagnosis was reached. I had pancreatitis caused by gallstones. My gallbladder would have to come out once the inflammation to my pancreas went down. Great! A thousand miles from home and my family, and I had to suffer a major medical emergency in the company of strangers.
I asked God, “Lord, what I had done to deserve this?” Pancreatitis can be caused by excessive drinking, by scorpion stings, and by genetic factors. I have lived a fairly clean life. I rarely drink alcohol. Surely the two margaritas I enjoyed while watching the NFC and AFC championship games that Sunday hadn’t caused my affliction. I have never even seen a live scorpion in the wild. No one in my family has ever had pancreatitis. What could it have been? There is a saying amongst doctors that they can tell who is going to have problems with their gallbladder just by looking at them. Three things are a dead giveaway. People who are fair, forty, and fat. I fit the bill for all three. I am so pasty white that I glow in the dark. I was only two weeks away from my 40th birthday. My weight had been creeping up for several years. I refused to look at photos of myself, or would try to hide behind other people when the picture was taken. I only wanted to look at myself in “skinny” mirrors so that I wouldn’t feel bad about myself. I would promise myself that I would quit my fast food habit tomorrow, or the day after that. I would rather by shirts and pants a size larger than admit than admit that my burgeoning waistline was a growing problem. And now I was suffering the natural consequences of neglecting to take care of myself. I thought I could just ignore the problem, put it off for another time. And I was forced to face my health head on. My gallbladder made sure of that. What does all of this have to do with Lent and our study of the 10 Commandments? Simply put, the 10 Commandments act like a mirror. They provide us a true glimpse of ourselves as God sees us. There is no hiding behind anyone so that our sin looks smaller. There is no “skinny” mirror that we can look into to make ourselves feel better about what we have done. There is only honest reflection about where we fall short of living a Godly life, and about how many times we have fed ourselves spiritual fast food, giving ourselves empty promises to be better or do better tomorrow. I feel like God was giving me a health intervention by allowing my gallbladder and pancreas to behave in the way they did. Had I not suffered the pancreatitis attack, I probably would have died from high blood pressure or hardening of the arteries from all of the garbage I was eating. I still have a long way to go to get healthy, and I will never be perfect in following the doctor’s orders, but I am certainly going to try! I have to tell you that I like what I see in the mirror more and more as the weight is starting to come off. No one can follow the Ten Commandments perfectly, that’s why God had to stage an intervention for the whole world. God sent Jesus to fulfill the law, because we could not. We were going to die from our terminal diagnosis of sin, but Jesus took our place on the cross, and we have been given new life and new hope in Jesus’ resurrection on Easter morning. We still can’t follow the Ten Commandments perfectly, but we can try! Then we can feel a little better as we look into the mirror of the law. We will like what we see a little better, and we don’t have to be afraid because we know that we have been saved by the Grace of God through Jesus Christ. Matt Byrd ![]() 25 Just then a lawyer stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he said, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” 26He said to him, “What is written in the law? What do you read there?” 27He answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.” 28And he said to him, “You have given the right answer; do this, and you will live.” Luke, chapter 10. How do we make sense of the Commandments, if we know we can’t treat them as a simple ten-point To-Do list? Jesus’ conversation [above] with the lawyer (which prefaces the parable we’ve come to know as “The Good Samaritan”), gives us an important clue: If you want to condense the law down to its most essential elements, remember this: Love the Lord your God, and love your neighbor as yourself. The fact that this devout Jew (“a [scripture] lawyer”), who specialized in the reading of the Torah, offered this summary so readily to Jesus, gives us a clue about its importance in the Jewish and Christian traditions. A faithful life includes both our relationship to God and to the world we live in. Jesus communicates this message in Matthew, Mark, and Luke’s Gospels; which further emphasizes how much the love of God and love of neighbor are at the center of our Christian life. One way to visualize this two-pronged relationship to God and neighbor is in the way the Commandments are displayed on the two tablets that Moses carried down the mountain: On the first tablet are Commandments I through III, on the second are Commandments IV through X. Commandments 1, 2, and 3 are about loving God; Commandments 4 through 10 are about loving neighbor. Even Saint Augustine of Hippo, a 4th-century bishop and notable sinner-saint in his own right, knew this formula when he wrote about Christian ethics in his Confessions: “An evil-living person transgresses your Decalogue of three commands with our duty to you, and seven with our duty to our fellow human beings” [emphasis mine]. Maybe ultimately the question this idea poses is: Why bother to condense the 10 Commandments down to this two-part calling? Well, a first response might be if you know the two, you’ll remember the 10 better. If you remember that God created you to love God and your neighbor, you can then unpack what that looks like by giving the Top Ten their proper attention. Thinking of the Commandments in terms of the two tablets, also invites you to think of the Ten Commandments more as a description, more than a prescription—the Commandments are finally about loving God and neighbor well. But maybe the most important reason to think about the commandments in these terms is because love of God and love of neighbor is what Jesus’ cross embodies. Jesus was obedient to God even to the point of death on the cross (love of God), he became sin who knew no sin, in order to love us back to God (love of neighbor). Ultimately, this two-pronged approach to the Commandments leads us back to the truth that truly saves us: Jesus inexhaustibly loves God and loves us. And, with that gospel news as our starting point, we are empowered to love God and love each other. Thanks be to God. |
Rev. Lori A. Cornell
Calvary's Pastor Jake Schumacher
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