Sermon for February 2, 2025
Epiphany 4C
Luke 4:21-30; 1 Corinthians 13:1-13
Rev. Karl-John N. Stone
Life can give you “whiplash” sometimes. Everything seems to be going great, until the unexpected happens, and quickly things change. A car accident, a broken leg, medical diagnosis, difficult time in a relationship or divorce, a round of layoffs at work, the sudden death of a loved one, the devastations of natural disasters or social strife or political unrest. We’ve all been through this type of thing at one time or another. Sadly, they are all too common; and remind us that despite our efforts to prepare for the future and determine our own fate—very often we have no choice but to let go of whatever power and control we think we have, and simply go through the times of hardship that we didn’t ask for, plan for, or even deserve.
Jesus was no stranger to such things. Even before the traumatic kiss of betrayal by Judas in the garden, when Judas turned Jesus over to be arrested and crucified, Jesus had to go through several of these “whiplash” moments. The story in today’s gospel is one of them. This story continues immediately from last Sunday’s gospel, when Jesus preached his first sermon back in his hometown synagogue. You may remember that he was “praised by everyone” and that they were “amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth.” Jesus is riding high! The folks who’ve known him his whole life are proud of him. But things change quickly—both for Jesus, and for the people in the synagogue. At first, those folks are riding high, too—they’re pleased that the local boy made good, and they’re filled with hope because of the gracious words he has spoken: promising good new to the poor, release to the captives, recovery of sight to the blind, freedom for the oppressed. This is them! The Spirit of the Lord is upon Jesus, to help them with all of their problems. What’s not to like? Surely miracles would soon follow.
But then Jesus gives them whiplash: “I’m not giving you guys any miracles” he basically tells them. But why not? Shouldn’t they get special treatment from their hometown hero? By refusing to do miracles or put on a big show of God’s power for them, Jesus is rather forcefully making the point that the good people of Nazareth do not have a special claim to God’s grace. They do have a claim to God’s grace, but not a special claim. Jesus is trying to help them see that there are others in just as great, or even greater, need of God’s grace than they are.
So, their “being amazed” at Jesus’ words of grace goes two ways: They are first amazed positively that the local boy has been anointed with the Holy Spirit, and then they amazed negatively that the grace of God he is preaching about is not just for them, and not just for their fellow Israelites even. God’s grace is for everyone! And this is still God’s message for us, here, today. Yes! God has filled us his grace; God has poured the gift of faith into our hearts by the Holy Spirit; God has blessed us with his gifts—alleluia! And because God’s grace is for everyone, we don’t just get to keep it for ourselves. We begin by sharing God’s grace with one another, being a caring congregation who supports one another—that’s important! And then, because God has given us such great gifts, we share them beyond ourselves with other people, people we often don’t even know! Just think of the Christmas gifts, or the hunger ministries, or the ramp-building, or the mission trips and service projects that we’ve offered our prayers, our energy, our time, our possessions for—because we want others to experience the blessings God has given us.
And just think of the wider ministries of compassion and grace for everyone that the Lutheran Church has been involved with for decades. 80 years of Lutheran World Relief for example—sharing God’s love with poor or struggling people around the world, which is where many of the quilts our quilters make go; or teaching sustainable farming practices in developing countries; or supporting people’s physical and spiritual needs in the wake of the devastating wildfires in California. And then there’s 86 years of Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Service (now called Global Refuge, but it’s the same ministry as before). They began with Lutheran refugees during the terrors of World War 2 (when Lutherans made up a large percentage of the world’s displaced people), and in the decades since they’ve continued to share the compassion of Christ with millions of people—not only Lutherans, but refugees from all around the world (including our Afghan allies who had to evacuate their country just a few years ago). Their ministry is to support people to become self-sufficient and make positive contributions to their new home, as they build new lives for themselves after their own “whiplash” moments that have displaced them through war, famine, climate change, or persecution. All of these ministries are inspired by the truth that God’s grace is for everyone!
Everyone! And the people in Nazareth loved this because it meant God’s grace was for them. But Jesus ran into “whiplash” when he reminded his hometown folks that God’s grace was for other people, too, even for their enemies! They really shouldn’t have been quite so “amazed” when he said this, because this message is deeply embedded in the Bible and in the history of Israel. Jesus gives two examples. Elijah—the greatest prophet next to Moses—was sent by God during a time of famine, not to help the widows of Israel, but to a widow at Zarephath in Sidon—this was the land of Elijah’s sworn enemy Queen Jezebel, who was always trying to kill him. Elijah feeds her when she runs out of food, and he brings her dead son back to life. And then Elisha, the disciple of Elijah, is sent by God to Naaman the Syrian, to heal Naaman of his leprosy. Not only was Naaman a Gentile and a pagan, but he commanded the Syrian army—Israel’s enemy. God’s grace was even for them!
Jesus puts himself in the tradition of these great prophets; and like them, Jesus emphasizes how, even as God’s grace begins among his own people, God never meant it to stop there. So the whiplash in today’s gospel goes both ways. Jesus is praised one moment, then almost thrown from a cliff the next. The people are pleased at his words of grace, then in a rage when he challenges them to connect with the deeper traditions of their faith.
And for us it’s true as well—difficult to accept but true—that it’s a normal part of life and faith to go through our own whiplash moments—and it’s normal for God to use them for his purposes when they come our way. That’s because God has things he needs to teach us that we can’t learn any other way. Yet when we surrender ourselves in faith to God; when we place ourselves in God’s hands in these difficult moments—instead of trying to fight against them, or ignore them, or run away from them—and we allow God’s grace to bring us through to the other side, that’s when Christ can really transform us! He can make us wiser, more mature in our faith; more compassionate and less judgmental, as we realize that other people are struggling through their own “whiplash” moments just as we are—and they need God’s grace, just like us.
By surrendering ourselves to God when those “whiplash” moments come our way, the Holy Spirit begins Christ’s work of death and resurrection within us, even now, on this side of heaven. As St. Francis of Assisi put it (and I think this illustrates well the point Jesus was making to his hometown folks), “Blessed are those who expect nothing; for they shall enjoy everything.” All true blessings and miracles, all healing and faith, all hope and love that we receive from God we have not earned, nor could we. But they are available to each of us, and to everybody else who opens their heart and mind to the gifts of God’s grace. Amen.