As a child growing up, I loved watching reruns of Columbo. These days the 1970s and 80s made-for-TV murder mystery starring Peter Falk is considered a cult classic. It is arguably Falk’s most loved role. And why not?

Columbo sports disheveled hair that is chronically out of place.
He constantly misplaces his pencil, asking suspects, “could I borrow yours?”
He drives a comically small 1959 Peugeot, that was outdated from the start.
He always wears an oversized, crumpled raincoat. Even tho it rarely rains.

Columbo defines what it is to be an anti-hero.

He never appeared to be the right person for the job.

My childhood self couldn’t get enough.

On the surface Columbo appears aloof, disorganized, clueless. Suspects consistently underestimate him. But given the task at hand: solving crimes, no one is better. Columbo always catches his mark.

When my daughter Hannah saw me watching an episode several years ago and plopped down on the couch to check it out I was thrilled. Before you knew it our family of four was watching one episode a week, in order, every Sunday nite.

A new tradition, for us, had been borne.

We have now seen all 69 episodes of Columbo. And have since moved on to watching other murder mystery shows with quirky detectives including Monk and Father Brown.

As a family we relish trying to find clues to the case, seeing if we can name them before the great detective does. A good clue, we’ve learned, hides in plain sight, waiting to be discovered. Then, once you find it, and understand what it means, everything suddenly makes sense. Over the years Columbo had some truly great reveals.

That discarded piece of gum? The bite marks in it could be matched to the killer, making a positive ID.

Or the security footage that, at first blush, clearly showed what happened? Turns out the recording had a clock that was broken. Someone must have altered the footage to spin a tale.

And that typewritten ransom note? It originated from an obscure make and model of typewriter. A typewriter that, by chance, was behind a locked door. Only one person had the keys.

A good clue, it seems, can make all the difference in the world.

Brevity
Our reading this Easter is the shortest of the gospel resurrection narratives. The resurrection stories in Matthew, Luke and John contain all sorts of extra details. A journey on the road to Emmaus, the Great Commission, a miraculous fireside fish breakfast with the disciples, followed by Christ’s ascension into heaven.

But Mark? The book simply ends here, with three women running away, afraid.

So unsatisfying was this original ending that scribes later appended the longer, happier ending to Mark, hoping to tie up loose ends.

Like a good episode of Columbo, what we make of this brief, unexpected turn of events is a mystery. To solve this case we’ll need to keep an eye out for clues.

Clues
Our first discovery? An open tomb. The three women there that morning expected to encounter death. Not being able to complete the one task at hand, of anointing the body, a tomb with a missing corpse would be jarring. No wonder they were alarmed, amazed, afraid.

But the tomb wasn’t empty. There’s a young man sitting in it, dressed in white. How did he get in there? Even more curious, he shares some vital pieces of information. He knew who they were looking for. And knew where he could be found. Who was this man? His face and voice seemed familiar. Could it be?

What this man tells them offers us more hints. He said Jesus had been raised. The women knew Christ had brought others back to life. Each time it meant their story here on earth wasn’t yet done. Could he have been brought back too? Was it possible? That would change everything, right? What might this mean?

Tell the disciples, the man told the three. Just like the Blue Brothers, it seems Jesus was looking to get the band back together. Why? Because we’re on a mission from God. Clearly Jesus and the crew had more work here to do.

Tell Peter, the man continued. Jesus wanted to reunite with the disciple that denied knowing him *three* times, when it mattered most? What’s most interesting about this particular clue is what isn’t said. There are no mentions of past wrongs, no demands to explain. To those who abandoned him Jesus only offers grace, forgiveness, connection, community, care.

Have them meet me in Galilee, the man told the women. What might this clue reveal? Galilee is Jesus’ hometown, the location of much of his ministry. It is here where Jesus multiplied the fishes and loaves, feeding thousands. It is here where he calmed the storms on the sea, giving peace to all. Galilee was the land of marginalized people, different people, people treated as less than. Might Jesus be calling the disciples to get back to caring for these people too?

So many clues.
What do to?

Not knowing what to make of it all the women fled the tomb. Initially they said nothing to anyone. For they were afraid.

Here ends the book of Mark.

Next
Unlike Columbo, not everything gets wrapped up by the end of the tale. There is no grand reveal that explains, in plain language who done it, when, where, and why.

The women were left to ponder, pontificate, pray.

What shall they do?

How the women interpreted the clues before them, and decided to act on them, in some ways, will always be a mystery.

Did they huddle up and discuss, comparing notes?
How long was it before they went to share the good news?

Minutes?
Hours?
More?

Eventually they did reach the disciples, proclaiming:

Christ is risen!
Christ is risen indeed! Alleluia!

And because of –

their witness,
their testimony,
their action,

The world will never be the same.

Now
The beauty of Mark’s resurrection story is this: it is an open-ended narrative. We, the hearers of this word, get to finish the story from our point of view.

Like the women at the tomb, we too get to write our own endings.

We live in an era where the civil rights of many marginalized groups are in jeopardy. The groups are many, including –

women,
children,
LGBTQ,
immigrants,

the unhoused,
the poor,
the hungry,
the physically and mentally unwell.

Attacks on these groups are being done with a toxic mix of religion and politics.

It is a version of Christianity that values privilege and power over care of neighbor.
It is a version of Christianity that frankly I can’t even recognize.

In many ways –
We have become Rome.
We are the empire.

And that, my friends, is simply not of God.

The promise of Easter, what with its exclamations of:

Christ is risen!
Christ is risen indeed! Alleluia!

Is proclamation, yes.
But it is also a challenge to act.

Facing the civil rights crisis of his era Dr. Martin Luther King famously said this:

“The church must be reminded that it is not the master or the servant of the state, but rather the conscience of the state. It must be the guide and the critic of the state, and never its tool. If the church does not recapture its prophetic zeal, it will become an irrelevant social club without moral or spiritual authority.”

People of God, on this Easter Day, a question for you. Faced with injustice all around…

What shall we do?
Christ offers clues.

A Good Friday message.

Before all this we had hope.  Not too long ago there was something to look forward to. Finally, it seemed, a savior of the people had come.

Glory to God the angels proclaimed!
This is my Son, the heavenly voice named.
We know who you are, the unclean spirits blamed.

The divine had spoken.
We had begun to believe.

Look at the disciples.

They –
Followed,
Questioned,
Argued,
Tested,
Walked,
Wondered,
Learned.

Slowly, ever so slowly,
Their faith grew.

And the miracles!
We watched –

Wine made,
Thousands fed,
Storms calmed,
Vision restored,
Hearing returned,
Lepers cleansed.
Dead raised.

With those grand displays,
slowly, ever so slowly,
Our faith grew too.

And the stories!
We heard tales of –

Rich fools,
Lost sheep,
Wedding feasts,
Mustard seeds,
Crooked managers,
Persistent widows,
Good Samaritans.

In them –
the other was always lifted up.
the great always brought down.

His parables challenged us.
They made us yearn for more.

We celebrated with him at –

Grand gatherings,
breaking bread,
sharing wine, amid
joy,
laughter,
sorrow.

It was community.
And it was good.

And the parade!
Complete with –
donkey ridden,
joyous crowds,
cloaks offered,
palms waved,
Hosannah! shouts,
triumphant entries,
all of it fit for a King.

We were sure this man could wear the title well.
We were certain more change would soon come.

Signs, signs everywhere there’s signs.

Then,
a kiss,
a betrayal,
an arrest.

What was going on?

Next,
one denial,
then two,
and three.

From a disciple?

Soon,
a trial,
a flogging,
an angry mob.

Where were his followers?
Had they abandoned him too?

With –
a purple robe,
a crown of thorns,
taunts of Hail, King of the Jews!

He was mocked.

Where were those who loved him?

Finally,
a cross,
torn flesh,
three last words.

It is finished.

And that, seemingly, was that.

Had we read the signs wrong?

The disciples, the crowds, the healings?
The sermons, the parables, the great escapes?
The promise of a new kingdom, here on earth?

Had it all been for naught?
Hope has left us.

We can’t help but grieve.
We carry the trauma.
We carry unexpected loss.
We don’t want this to be the end.

We mourn someone who once said, destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.

Some of us laughed at him for this. Many believed there was no way a massive building could be rebuilt in such short time.

Could those words mean more?

We have little to go on.
Our search for clues begins. Amen.

The gospel reading for today contains a passage so common, so popular in Americana you could probably name it in a lineup. Which verse from John 3:14-21 would you say, is the big one? John 3:16, of course. John 3:16 pops up seemingly everywhere.

If you went to Sunday School as a kid, you probably learned it there. If you attended Bible camp growing up – you probably memorized it. The verse is on billboards along highways. It appears on social media as a meme, complete with a cross on a hill during sunset. In our culture, whether we are Christian or not, John 3:16 simply cannot be ignored.

According to biblegateway.com it is the most searched for and read piece of scripture on their website. It ranks #1 in biblical search history for every year they’ve kept track, save one.

I bet many of you could say John 3:16 right along with me. Let’s try…”For God So loved the world…He gave his only son, that whoever believes in him will not perish but have everlasting life.”

For God So Loved
The downside for language so well-known is we might conclude we’ve got it down. That there is nothing new here, time to move along. Perhaps a preacher’s biggest challenge, with a text like this, is to keep the congregation awake. With that goal, good people of St. John’s, I shall try 😊.

There are multiple ways to approach this passage. We could walk through all eight verses, line by line. We could pair John 3:16 and its lesser-known sibling, verse 17, dissecting how the two inform each other. We could highlight the verse itself. Martin Luther calls the two dozen words John 3:16 contains “the gospel in miniature.” Why? Because it summarizes the good news so well.

To take it one step further, today I’d like to drill down to just six of those words:

FOR GOD SO LOVED THE WORLD.

Arguably it is God’s love for the world that ties all of scripture together. Love led God to walk alongside Adam and Eve in the garden, desiring relationship with them, and us, in the beginning. Love stirred God’s heart to release the Israelites from captivity, giving them hope of a promised land. God’s love breathed into Ezekiel’s valley of dry bones, turning death and destruction into new life. Love led our Creator to take human form, through Jesus the Christ, showing us what divine love looks like in the flesh. Love led Jesus to the cross, to cover our human brokenness once and for all. Love rose from the grave, proclaiming once and for all that God’s story lives on.

Let’s consider the implications of those six words, For God So Loved the World. Where might this phrase lead?

Love Doesn’t Pick Teams
First, For God so loved the world, God doesn’t pick teams, or tribes or favorites. God loves the whole earthy ball of wax. The original Greek for world is kosmos. Think of how broad our cosmos is. It spans everything. And God loves it all.

If you’re a fan of the –
– Iowa State Cyclones
– Iowa Hawkeyes
– Northern Iowa Panthers
– Went to another college,
– Even the Luther College Norse
– Or no college at all, this God so loved starting point covers you.

Pastor Stephanie tells me she’s a fan of the Houston Cougars. The Cougars happen to be the #1 team in men’s basketball right now, over our fellow Big 12 conference darlings the Iowa State Cyclones, who are #6. Though we pastors disagree the verdict is in: Pastor Stephanie, God’s love is for you.

If you’re –
– Christian,
– Jewish,
– Muslim,
– Buddhist,
– Hindu,
– or have not religion at all, yep,
God deeply loves you.

If you’re –
– black,
– brown,
– white,
– or some hue between,

I hope it’s clear.
God so loves you.

Love Is For All
It doesn’t end there. God’s love for you goes far beyond mere demographics. God’s love covers the innermost being of who you are, and what you have done.

If you –
– can’t hold down a job,
– are addicted to drugs, carbs or booze,
– find yourself unhoused, living on the streets,
– broke, hungry, without,
– even if you stole a car from the church parking lot,

the same is always true.

God loves you.
God loves you.
God loves you.

Love Gets Involved
As amazing as that is, there is more good news to share. For God so loved the world, God did something. God didn’t just sit back and say hey, I love you and send you on your way. Instead, when the story of humanity went awry God got those hands dirty, got involved in our day to day. John 3:16 says so: God sent his only Son here, so that we may have life. Jesus busied himself here with teaching, showing, and doing, in human form, modeling what it is to be in right relationship with God. Modeling what it is to be in right relationship with each other.

And because of that, we have been called to join in God’s work, loving all of God’s children, without exception. Just as God so loves us.

Love is Now
Last month, at our February annual meeting, St. John’s voted to become a Reconciling In Christ congregation through an organization called Reconciling Works. At the heart of this new-to-us identity is a now ratified welcome statement. Our new welcome is inclusive of the LGBTQ+ community and so many more oft marginalized groups. The core of this statement says that:

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.

The vote passed with a 98% approval rate.
The margin is clear. It is a mandate for us all.
To quote a favorite tv series title, This Is Us.

As Lutherans, In The City For Good, Here We Stand.

Earlier this week, at a gathering of our Reconciling in Christ Ministry Team, Pastor Stephanie and I listened as our members shared a veritable cornucopia of ideas about how we might now more fully live into this new welcome statement.

Should we focus more on advocacy? Our state continues to attack the freedoms of women, children, the LGBTQ+ community. Our state continues to under-resource mental health and affordable housing.

That is not up for debate.
These, unfortunately, are facts.

Or, should we focus more on service? One idea that came out of this gathering: we could serve unmet needs of the unhoused LGBTQ+ community. Or perhaps we could partner with Lutheran Services of Iowa and their efforts to resettle refugees?

With a big downtown building that goes largely unused most of the week, solutions to these issues and more can begin right here.

Our missional path likely includes a bit of both. Advocacy and service to neighbor go hand in hand. What that looks like in specific in the coming years? I invite you to get involved; the Reconciling In Christ team would love to have you join. We’ll find out, together, how God is calling us to reimagine our little corner of Des Moines, and beyond.

Close
Because if we believe the premise, that God so loved the world, it has some implications. And if we believe that God is still active in our world, working for the good of us all, it begs us to look around and get involved.

As Christ-followers it leads us to not build walls, but bridges.
As Christ-followers it calls us to not look out for us, but for them.
As Christ-followers it pleads for us to not protect the most of these, but the least.

Does God so love the world?
Do you truly believe that?

For if so, we have work to do.  Amen.

Two years ago, author and social science professor Brene Brown’s latest book, Atlas of the Heart, was released. Of the eight books Brene has written Atlas is her highest rated. Amazon customers give it 4.8 stars out of 5. Not too shabby.

The book’s goal is lofty: to define and summarize 87 different feelings with language both academically grounded and relatable.

I devoured the book earlier this Winter whilst laying fireside at home on an oversized beanbag. It was wonderful.

Brene, who has researched and written about feelings for over two decades, started her career by delving into the concept of shame.

In an early study she asked research participants to give examples of shame. Here are a few of them:

• Shame is raging at my kids.
• Shame is bankruptcy.
• Shame is my boss calling me an idiot in front of the client.
• Shame is my partner leaving me for my next-door neighbor.
• Shame is my DUI.
• Shame is infertility.
• Shame is flunking out of school. Twice.
• Shame is hearing my parents fight and wondering if I’m the only one who feels this afraid.

Shame, Brene concludes, is the fear of disconnection. It is a fear that something we’ve done, or failed to do, or an ideal we’ve not lived up to, or a goal we’ve not accomplished makes us unworthy of connection.

I’m unlovable, shame whispers in our ear. I don’t belong.

Poet
Today we set our sights on Psalm 25. The Psalm recalls the time Israel spent in the wilderness after their liberation from Egypt. The people were now physically free, sure. But they were, in many ways, spiritually lost. The author, a poet, grapples with what to do.

The poet faces guilt. It stems from the sins of their youth. Perhaps it was infidelity. Or theft. Or an addiction they can’t bring themselves to name out loud. The poet wonders, can’t the Lord, who loves them endlessly, forget what they have done?

The poet faces enemies. What if one of them finds out about the sins of their past? Will they be mocked? Will they be cast away from community? What would their friends, who now know, then say?

Worried, alone, not knowing where to turn, the poet bows their head in prayer.

To you, O Lord, I lift up my soul.
Oh my God, in you I trust.

It is:
– the beginning of conversation
– an attempt to release their burdens
– a hope for a fresh start with God, with neighbor

Then comes the petition that informs the rest of the prayer.

Do not let me be put to shame.

For with shame comes the –
– threat of disconnection
– worry what you’ve done is impossible to forgive
– fear that, once the cat is out of the bag, you’ll be separated from all you love

Seeking freedom from this most harmful of feelings, the poet continues, praying to –
– be led in God’s truth
– know God’s ways
– be taught God’s paths

It is ok with the poet if being led in God’s truth, ways and paths takes some time.

For you I wait all day long, they cry.

The poet then recalls who they know the Lord to be:
– Good
– Upright
– Full of mercy

The poet knows –
– in their time of pain,
– in their time of shame, that
– God has their back.

Always has.
Always will.

All the paths of the Lord, the poet concludes, lead to steadfast love and faithfulness.

The poet is ready, it seems, to move on from shame. Instead, they journey towards forgiveness, mercy, right relationship with God, self, neighbor.

Today
As Lent begins we are reminded this too is a season of journey and self-discovery. The destination is clear; we’re winding our way to the Cross. It is a time of preparation, of having our paths made straight, in anticipation of the risen Lord.

Our gospel reading from Mark 1 finds Jesus in the wilderness for 40 days. The poet of Psalm 25 is in a personal wilderness, and desires to be on the path of the Lord. During this season the same is true of us.

Because of this wilderness, the journey and travel motif our Lenten lectionary takes on is darker than much of the church calendar. This focus on the darkness of the human condition is something I have grown to appreciate deeply over the years.

And yet sometimes our journey through the wilderness has a subtext that is less than helpful. Upon reflection of where we fall short, we have the potential to beat ourselves up in unkind ways. This can then lead to shame, and feelings of isolation, separation, distance from what and who we care for most.

God does not want that for us.

Instead, please know this. You are loved. You are claimed as a child of God in the waters of your baptism. This identity never goes away, no matter who you are. No matter what you have done.

Yes, to better follow Christ’s path requires change on our part towards a new way of being. That is done best in right relationship with God, and with others.

Brene Brown, in researching this most unkind of feelings, suggests there is an antidote for shame: empathy. For when we reach out and share our story with a trusted friend, and they respond with empathy it can’t help but bring us closer in community. For when someone knows, cares, and embraces you for who you are, without judgement, you are no longer alone.

If you’re feeling shame about something in your past or present, be like the poet of Psalm 25: take it to God. And then talk about it with a partner, family member, pastor, therapist or friend. Begin the hard work of getting through to the other side. Breaking the silence is the first step to being made whole.

During Lent we are asked to give up something to honor what Christ has sacrificed for us. People often give up things like gossip, fast food, social media, sweets, alcohol. Which is all well and good, and helps us on our way.

This year beloved let me encourage you to give up something else.

Give up shame. Connect with your Creator and your community, who can help.

Because God wants the best for us all.  Amen.

A reflection on Mark 1:21-28.

In 2013 the alt-rock band Imagine Dragons released their debut album, Night Visions. It was an instant success, becoming the fourth most purchased album nationally that year. One of the songs on this album, Demons, spent 61 weeks on the Billboard Hot 100 list, peaking at number six.

What makes this song, Demons, so successful? I’ll give you my take on that. The lyrics describe a certain darkness to the human condition, in language people can understand, in ways they can relate. In Lutheran terms, where we are both saint and sinner, at all times, it’s not the saint piece we’re talking about.

Lyrics to Demons describe the dark side to the human condition poetically:

When the days are cold
And the cards all fold
And the saints we see
Are all made of gold

When your dreams all fail
And the ones we hail
Are the worst of all
And the blood’s run stale

Look into my eyes
It’s where my demons hide
It’s where my demons hide

Don’t get too close
It’s dark inside
It’s where my demons hide
It’s where my demons hide

Sometimes where the demons hide is crystal clear.

When Omar Mateen shot and killed 49 people, wounding 53 others in a mass shooting at Pulse, a gay nightclub in Orlando in 2016, there was no doubt. Something dark and unholy was afoot. Dear God, cast out the twin American demons of gun violence and hate crimes in our land that continue to this day. Lord, hear our prayers.

Other times the nature of the demon is less than obvious. That is the case with today’s scripture text. Modern translations of Mark chapter 1 use the phrase unclean spirit to describe what this man was possessed with, so let’s go with that. In biblical language to be unclean is to be impure. To be impure means simply contrary to the sacred. Aka not according to God’s plan.

Unclean Spirits
Today’s text finds Jesus, very early in his ministry, teaching in the temple on the Sabbath. Then, amid the normalcy of a typical worship gathering, right in the middle of his sermon, something unexpected happens. A man shows up, speaking directly to the preacher, saying, “What have you to do with us? I know who you are, Jesus!”

We don’t know the nature of this unclean spirit, so it would be unfair to speculate. We do know it recognized Jesus, and Jesus recognized the spirit as something not according to God’s plan. And with Christ, who was sent to earth to live out God’s plan, well, something had to give.

Jesus, in this moment didn’t launch into a parable. He didn’t draw signs in the dirt. And he didn’t shuffle off to the next town to teach elsewhere, as he sometime did when conflict arose.

Instead he acted, commanding the unclean spirit to leave the man, casting it out right then and there. The people gathered that day were amazed, realizing this Man doesn’t just teach, but acts. And even the unclean spirits, those spirits that aren’t according to God’s plan, obey him. At once the words and deeds of this new preacher began to spread.

Imagine if something like that happened here, during worship. Picture Pastor Pam and I on vacation, and another preacher were here in our place. And imagine if, right in the middle of the sermon, someone challenged them, and then had their unclean spirit removed, fully healing them in mind, body and spirit. Imagine that happening right before your eyes. You’d likely be amazed too. And would have plenty to talk about after service during coffee hour 😊.

Yet other times noticing unclean spirits, what they are, and how they are contrary to the sacred, and what we are called to do in those moments we encounter them, well, at times it can be a little more difficult to discern.

Here is one story about that.

Utopia
It was a gorgeous South Florida Sunday, about fifteen years ago, I remember it well. Kathi and I got up, showered, put clean clothes on and went to church. After service the congregation was invited outside for a pancake brunch, complete with eggs, sausage patties, hot coffee and fresh-squeezed Florida orange juice, mmmmmm, so tasty. The meal was spread out across several long rectangular picnic tables. People began to form a line to fill their plates, fill their stomachs.

Kathi and I got our food and sat down underneath a large, covered patio that protected us from the sun. We settled in to enjoy a good meal and good conversation. We were with people we knew, people we liked.

And what of the temperatures, my wintery Iowan friends? They were in the mid-70s; a light ocean breeze blew through the space, cooling everyone.

This is one of those moments I love most about participating in the life of the church. Music, prayer, message and communion, followed by the community gathering together for relationship, conversation, and a shared meal.

It was then, in the middle of a personal churchy utopia, that a member of the congregation came up and whispered something in my ear.

Casting Out
“A homeless man is here,” they said, “and in line for food. Should we do something?” I looked over at the serving line and easily spotted the man. Sporting a disheveled beard and filthy clothes, standing amongst the members of our congregation, all in their Sunday best, he was impossible to miss.

This was pre-seminary for me, pre-ordination, years before I’d first approach a pulpit to preach. Yet I was the Vice President of church council, and was being asked to take action. Asked to address this perceived issue one way or another.

“Thanks for the heads up,” I replied, heading back to my pancakes and orange juice. I remember thinking in that moment, what’s the big deal? Let the guy sit down. Let the guy eat. Maybe he’ll make a few friends. But I did nothing, settling for inaction instead.

A few minutes later, another church leader approached me with a different narrative. “There was a homeless person here that made a few people uncomfortable. So I went over, spoke with him, gave him some food, and escorted him off the property. I thought you should know.”

This unclean homeless man, physically unclean at least, had literally just been cast out from our church gathering.

My personal churchy utopia, a South Floridian garden of Eden of sorts, suddenly felt a little unclean too.

Taken in the context of today’s scripture, a question: who had the unclean spirit?

• Was it the homeless man, unclean physically, who had been cast out?
• Or was it me, who had taken no action, settling for personal comfort instead?
• Or was the unclean spirit not dwelling in one person, but instead a shared symptom of the congregation itself?

And if this unclean spirit was a shared symptom of this South Florida church how else could we – should we – have responded? I’ve held on to this story for fifteen years now and continue to grapple with it. My hope is you too are challenged by it. My hope is also that it might inform how we minister to the unhoused and food insecure here at St. John’s too.

Close
Sometimes demons in our world are really easy to spot, especially in our era where news is so readily shared. Other times, the nature of unclean spirits is more nuanced, and asks us to take a deeper look within.

It is here where Christ breaks into our world and sees us for who we are, as spiritually clean or spiritually unclean as that may be. Jesus lived a life of transformation, of action, and stands ready to remove the unclean spirits that are not according to God’s plan, and pluck them from us.

The Imagine Dragons song Demons closes with these fitting lyrics, that point us right back to our savior:

Your eyes, they shine so bright
I want to save their light
I can’t escape this now
Unless you show me how

Dear Lord, show us the unclean spirits within ourselves, those spirits that act contrary to your plan, whatever they may be. Cast out those unclean spirits, leaving us only Your heart for Your people. Guide us to model you and then act, moved by the Holy Spirit, being part of the transformation of this world you so love.

Then empower us to make room at the table you invite each of us to for a grand banquet. It is a table where none are sent away, and ALL ARE WELCOME, without exception. It is a table where we share in the heavenly feast, right here on earth together, as one. Amen.