Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

When I stand before you, as I'm doing right now, after reading the Gospel, I am speaking to you theologically. I am speaking to you pastorally. I am speaking to you prophetically insofar as interpreting Scripture. Of course, I am putting some of myself into it, and I am speaking to you directly, to you as the congregation that called me to be your pastor. At times, the message you hear from me will be different than if I am speaking to another congregation elsewhere in a different place, different circumstances, and with a different leading by the Spirit. I am called, and ordained, to Word and Sacrament. Now there are times when you might hear what I say, and leave here with a light heart, feeling good about yourself and perhaps even about the world we live in. There are times when you might hear what I say, and sit here, leave here, with a troubled heart, perhaps your conscience has been pricked by something I said, or by something you heard me say, keeping in mind that led by the Spirit, you might hear something I did not actually say. Now there are also times when you might leave here feeling angry, perhaps angry with the message, perhaps angry at the circumstances that led to my message, perhaps even angry with me. And trust me here, you need to know this.

I'm going to speak to you for a bit this morning and I would really like it if you would listen with your heart. Think about the Gospel you heard me read a short time ago. Jesus in the synagogue in his hometown of Nazareth. The fair-haired boy, the local boy made good. Here is Nazareth, surrounded on two sides by Phoenicians, on one side by Greeks, on the other side by Samaritans, and the basic sense is, paraphrasing Nathanael, how can anything good come out of Nazareth? Yet everyone has heard good reports of Jesus, his teaching and preaching all through Galilee. They are probably whetting their appetites in anticipation of what he is going to say. And he is off to a good start, reading from the scroll of Isaiah, handing the scroll back to the attendant, sitting down and telling them that "today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing."

"Is this not Joseph's son?" they ask. And Jesus begins to speak because he knows what is in their hearts. Pointing out that a prophet is without honor in a prophet's hometown, knowing they will say "doctor, heal yourself. Jesus tells them that as Elijah and Elisha were sent to Gentiles and to the ostracized, bypassing the Israelites, so too Jesus will not confine himself to just the hometown folks, to just the Jewish people, even though he was sent first to them. They are angry with Jesus, angry enough to take him to the top of the cliff and throw him over. But, Joseph's son he might be, he is also, especially the Son of God, and he who walks on water, walks untouched through the angry crowd. Could it be that the hometown congregation was offended by Jesus' message, that they heard something they did not want to hear? Could it be that they wanted him to do miracles as he did in Capernaum, but as we read elsewhere, their very unbelief, so set in the idea of familiarity breeding contempt, precluded Jesus from being able to do much in his own back yard?

I think that indeed that is the case. It leads me to wonder, what is it you love about this church? What is it you love about Lutheran Church of the Cross? Is it the music programs? The preaching? The welcome you received when you first came to visit? Is this the church you grew up in, were married in, came of age in? Is it the beautiful facility, our wonderful campus, the sanctuary, the Celebration Center, the classrooms and choir room? Is it the Memorial Garden? Is it a combination of these things and even more? Is it being able to have your pick of weekend services, and to sit in the celebration center between services enjoying friends, fellowship, coffee, cookies and doughnuts? Is it the Children's Ministry and Youth ministry programs, with just the right amount of non-threatening mission work? Is it that some of your brothers and sisters here at LCC will literally drop everything at the drop of a hat and give you a needed ride to a hospital in St. Cloud or the Twin Cities? What exactly is it? Is it that we seldom ask for too much money? Is it that LCC is kind of like your hometown in a way - you're comfortable, you fit in, and you like it that way?

This is all something that I have been thinking about quite a bit the last 16 months or so. I have talked with some of you, maybe many of you. I've talked with Pastor Joan, with our council and other lay leaders. Yet I admit to still wondering about this church, this congregation, this part of the body of Christ in this place. Considering we are nearly 51 years old, started as a mission church by the old ELC with seed money from two other congregations, I wonder if we have repaid their investment. If we have repaid their risk. Oh, I know we have long since paid them the money that was owed them, and we're one of the biggest churches not only in the area but in the synod, but what have we done lately? What are we going to do in the near future, the farther away future, and the distant future. Are we investing for the next 50 years? Or are we too comfortable, too secure, or insecure, in our doings to really step out in faith, to really answer Christ's call, to really pick up our individual and collective crosses and die to self, die to selves, to follow Christ.

Jesus talked more about money than any other single item in the New Testament. Most of what he had to say wasn't particularly good. He spoke highly of the widow who put everything she had to live on, into the temple coffers, and he wasn't really criticizing those who gave out of their abundance, more like simply pointing out that they were giving out of their abundance. So that begs the question, what are you doing? What are we doing? What are you giving? What are we giving? I wonder if we are simply giving out of our abundance, and pretty skimpily giving at that, saving for the proverbial rainy day that may not ever come. Or are we trusting in God, stepping out in faith, giving back to him as generous givers, appreciating what he has given us, what other congregations and individuals have done for us.

We have a meeting coming up between services today, but this sermon isn't really aimed at that. Instead, if you think back over the sermons I have preached in the past 16 months, this sermon is part of a continuing, continual emphasis on discipleship. Your discipleship. Our discipleship as individuals and as a congregation. Your stewardship, not just financial, but inclusive of your whole life because you can't separate your financial life from your spiritual life. They are both part of who and what you are. You know, if Cindy and I had wanted to play it safe, not put ourselves and our futures at risk, we would have stayed in northern California. I could have continued in the business I was in, and based what has happened to those I worked with, I could have gotten a tidy buyout and either gone elsewhere, or even retired early while Cindy continued to earn a good salary as a parish administrator. We came here though, not just because I was called here as your pastor, I could have refused the call, but because we thought this is where God wants us to be. Now I suppose it would not be the first time that I have mistaken the call of God, or misinterpreted it, but somehow, I don't think that's the case. Which means we are here, I am here as your pastor, to make you feel uncomfortable sometimes, to make you feel challenged, to even anger you upon occasion. Because when I preach like this, I am speaking theologically, I am speaking pastorally, I am speaking prophetically. But, I cannot move your hearts, only God can do that. And he will only do it if you let him do it. Won't you listen to the voice of God today?

AMEN.