October 2022
"Costly Grace"
Reformation Sunday; based on John 8:31-36 (text at end of post)
October 30, 2022
Last weekend, Charlie and I traveled to my hometown, Dassel, Minnesota, for a friend’s wedding taking place at a winery in Hutchinson, just 14 miles south.
I used the opportunity of being there to arrange a couple visits. The first was with my sister Dorothy, who is 15 years older than me. This summer, Dorothy moved in with her daughter Donna, who had just bought a new home in Darwin.
When I was growing up, Darwin had a reputation as a drinking town with liquor stores and bars—a place where people from Dassel (which was dry back then) would go to secretly have a drink or buy liquor and then drive the five miles back to Dassel. Darwin is also famous for the largest ball of twine in the world. Created by a local farmer who for years collected twine from hay bales and kept rolling them into a giant ball, which now sits enshrined in a gazebo just two blocks from my niece’s home.
Along with my relatives, on Monday we visited Carolyn Holje, a lifetime member of the church where I grew up. She and my sister were in the same class in school. For many years, Carolyn was the editor of our town’s newspaper, the Dassel Dispatch. She also led our high school Sunday School class. Carolyn was and still is a vivacious, funny, clever, and caring person. Someone who had a major impact on my teenage self.
With our weekly small group, Carolyn created a fun and safe place to talk about a lot of issues. A group that made me feel special and welcomed. During our conversation on Monday, we talked about that and many other things. And I asked Carolyn a couple questions that I had wondered about for many years.
Like many queer folk, I’ve wondered how many people suspected I was gay when I was young. So I asked Carolyn if she had. And she replied with a sincere, “No, not at all.”
The other thing I’ve wondered about was what people in my home church might have said about me when I decided not to get ordained after seminary. Because when I made that decision, no one from my church—not even my pastor—ever reached out to ask me “why?” And inside my head back then, I assumed the worst. That everyone must have found out the truth. And that they condemned me for who I was.
So I asked Carolyn about that, too. What she said surprised me. She said that she never heard any negative gossip. She reflected that most people probably thought it wasn’t a big deal—that I had simply decided to do something different with my life.
For me, that little bit of information—that newly revealed fact—was like a missing puzzle piece, which suddenly clicked into that section of the puzzle picture of my life. Opening my eyes to a new understanding about how people really responded to what, for me, was a traumatic experience.
Anyone who knows what it’s like to live with a secret understands the power that a bit of truth like that can have on how you see yourself. Whether it’s being in the closet about your gender identity or sexual orientation. Whether it’s hiding your struggle with chemical dependency. Whether it’s not telling friends you were abused. Whether it’s not revealing to coworkers that you live with depression or anxiety.
Those of us who have gone through the process of sharing those secrets with a trusted confidant or within a safe community like St. Mark’s know what it’s like to finally be open and talk freely about your real self.
To tell your own story. With all those things that once felt shameful and posed the risk of rejection by family and friends. And yet, in that sharing, something happens deep inside your psyche.
Something that makes you feel more complete. More authentic. More true.
In our Gospel lesson, Jesus says, “The truth will make you free.” “Truth” is a word that’s used a lot in John’s Gospel. In the first chapter, the author writes: “And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only child, full of grace and truth…. From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.” (John 1:14 & 16)
The truth that Jesus revealed is not the same kind of truth many Christians read into this passage. Where many interpret “truth” with a theology where Jesus is the only way to be saved from our hidden sins and shameful selves. They hear Jesus say in John, “I am the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6), and think “truth” applies only to eternal salvation.
I like to think that the way “truth” is used here has a much deeper and compassionate meaning. Being a Bible nerd, I did a little research and found a commentary with this interpretation:
Truth as used here is “not merely truth as spoken” (meaning the opposite of lies), but also the “truth of ideas, reality, sincerity, truth in the moral sphere…. In ancient Greek culture, ‘truth’ was synonymous for ‘reality’ as the opposite of illusion.” *
Truth in that sense and in the way Jesus talks about it is not just a Church doctrine or theological concept, or something you believe no matter what. Truth is a way of living that, in Jesus’s words, sets us free to be the person and people God created us to be. Truth is a community that accepts the validity of each person’s story, no matter how painful or difficult to hear. Truth is the realization that love and compassion are what gives our lives authentic meaning and our souls a relevant, living faith.
Of course, sometimes living out that kind of truth can be challenging and risky, even scary, especially in our modern world. During World War II, Dietrich Bonhoeffer was a German pastor and Lutheran theologian. Seeing what was happening around him, Pastor Bonhoeffer gathered up the courage to speak out against Hitler and his administration. Because of his daring witness, the Nazis executed Bonhoeffer in 1943.
Before his death, Bonhoeffer wrote and preached extensively about the cost of following Jesus. During a time when the Lutheran Church had caved in to the Nazis’ white supremacist propaganda—not unlike what’s happening in our country today—Bonhoeffer challenged Christians to consider what it truly means to be a disciple of Jesus.
In his book The Cost of Discipleship, Bonhoeffer makes a distinction between cheap grace and costly grace. For him, cheap grace was the blind following of Church hierarchy or tyrannical governments. In contrast, Bonhoeffer describes “costly grace” as:
“The treasure hidden in the field; for the sake of it, [someone] will gladly… sell all [they have]. Such grace is costly… because it costs [your] life, and it is grace because it gives the only true life.”**
Five hundred years ago, Martin Luther, the founder of our Lutheran tradition, demonstrated the meaning of costly grace. During the Reformation, Luther preached that Christians are saved only by the grace of God, and not the institutional church or politicians. Eventually the Catholic Pope charged Luther with heresy. In April 1521, Luther testified and refused to recant his teachings, supposedly ending with these famous words, “Here I stand; I can do no other.”
Not many of us Lutherans today face the kind of threats Luther or Bonhoeffer faced. But I believe God still calls us to live our faith with the risk of losing what’s costly to you and me.
The risk of losing our congregation’s identity because we worship in a synagogue. The risk of losing friends because we speak out for Muslim immigrants when their local cemetery is vandalized, as happened just this week. The risk of losing a job or career, because you dare to come out of the closet.
That’s exactly the meaning of costly grace.
Here at St. Mark’s, I believe we are a community striving—as best we can—to live the true meaning of costly grace. Something that Martin Luther started so long ago.
Something that, by taking the risk of calling a new pastor today who might not have the same life experiences as you or me, may lead us to new opportunities for ministry and new truths for the meaning of the Gospel.
Something that, if we listen to the call of God in Jesus, will lead us to the gift of authentic faith and meaningful lives. Amen.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
* https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=John%201&version=NRSVUE
**Devotional Classics," edited by Richard J. Foster & James B. Smith; "The Cost of Discipleship" by Dietrich Bonhoeffer.
+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + +
GOSPEL READING: John 8:31-36
Then Jesus said to the Jews who had believed in him, “If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples; and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.” They answered him, “We are descendants of Abraham and have never been slaves to anyone. What do you mean by saying, ‘You will be made free’?” Jesus answered them, “Very truly, I tell you, everyone who commits sin is a slave to sin. The slave does not have a permanent place in the household; the son has a place there forever. So, if the Son makes you free, you will be free indeed.”
I used the opportunity of being there to arrange a couple visits. The first was with my sister Dorothy, who is 15 years older than me. This summer, Dorothy moved in with her daughter Donna, who had just bought a new home in Darwin.
When I was growing up, Darwin had a reputation as a drinking town with liquor stores and bars—a place where people from Dassel (which was dry back then) would go to secretly have a drink or buy liquor and then drive the five miles back to Dassel. Darwin is also famous for the largest ball of twine in the world. Created by a local farmer who for years collected twine from hay bales and kept rolling them into a giant ball, which now sits enshrined in a gazebo just two blocks from my niece’s home.
Along with my relatives, on Monday we visited Carolyn Holje, a lifetime member of the church where I grew up. She and my sister were in the same class in school. For many years, Carolyn was the editor of our town’s newspaper, the Dassel Dispatch. She also led our high school Sunday School class. Carolyn was and still is a vivacious, funny, clever, and caring person. Someone who had a major impact on my teenage self.
With our weekly small group, Carolyn created a fun and safe place to talk about a lot of issues. A group that made me feel special and welcomed. During our conversation on Monday, we talked about that and many other things. And I asked Carolyn a couple questions that I had wondered about for many years.
Like many queer folk, I’ve wondered how many people suspected I was gay when I was young. So I asked Carolyn if she had. And she replied with a sincere, “No, not at all.”
The other thing I’ve wondered about was what people in my home church might have said about me when I decided not to get ordained after seminary. Because when I made that decision, no one from my church—not even my pastor—ever reached out to ask me “why?” And inside my head back then, I assumed the worst. That everyone must have found out the truth. And that they condemned me for who I was.
So I asked Carolyn about that, too. What she said surprised me. She said that she never heard any negative gossip. She reflected that most people probably thought it wasn’t a big deal—that I had simply decided to do something different with my life.
For me, that little bit of information—that newly revealed fact—was like a missing puzzle piece, which suddenly clicked into that section of the puzzle picture of my life. Opening my eyes to a new understanding about how people really responded to what, for me, was a traumatic experience.
Anyone who knows what it’s like to live with a secret understands the power that a bit of truth like that can have on how you see yourself. Whether it’s being in the closet about your gender identity or sexual orientation. Whether it’s hiding your struggle with chemical dependency. Whether it’s not telling friends you were abused. Whether it’s not revealing to coworkers that you live with depression or anxiety.
Those of us who have gone through the process of sharing those secrets with a trusted confidant or within a safe community like St. Mark’s know what it’s like to finally be open and talk freely about your real self.
To tell your own story. With all those things that once felt shameful and posed the risk of rejection by family and friends. And yet, in that sharing, something happens deep inside your psyche.
Something that makes you feel more complete. More authentic. More true.
In our Gospel lesson, Jesus says, “The truth will make you free.” “Truth” is a word that’s used a lot in John’s Gospel. In the first chapter, the author writes: “And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only child, full of grace and truth…. From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.” (John 1:14 & 16)
The truth that Jesus revealed is not the same kind of truth many Christians read into this passage. Where many interpret “truth” with a theology where Jesus is the only way to be saved from our hidden sins and shameful selves. They hear Jesus say in John, “I am the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6), and think “truth” applies only to eternal salvation.
I like to think that the way “truth” is used here has a much deeper and compassionate meaning. Being a Bible nerd, I did a little research and found a commentary with this interpretation:
Truth as used here is “not merely truth as spoken” (meaning the opposite of lies), but also the “truth of ideas, reality, sincerity, truth in the moral sphere…. In ancient Greek culture, ‘truth’ was synonymous for ‘reality’ as the opposite of illusion.” *
Truth in that sense and in the way Jesus talks about it is not just a Church doctrine or theological concept, or something you believe no matter what. Truth is a way of living that, in Jesus’s words, sets us free to be the person and people God created us to be. Truth is a community that accepts the validity of each person’s story, no matter how painful or difficult to hear. Truth is the realization that love and compassion are what gives our lives authentic meaning and our souls a relevant, living faith.
Of course, sometimes living out that kind of truth can be challenging and risky, even scary, especially in our modern world. During World War II, Dietrich Bonhoeffer was a German pastor and Lutheran theologian. Seeing what was happening around him, Pastor Bonhoeffer gathered up the courage to speak out against Hitler and his administration. Because of his daring witness, the Nazis executed Bonhoeffer in 1943.
Before his death, Bonhoeffer wrote and preached extensively about the cost of following Jesus. During a time when the Lutheran Church had caved in to the Nazis’ white supremacist propaganda—not unlike what’s happening in our country today—Bonhoeffer challenged Christians to consider what it truly means to be a disciple of Jesus.
In his book The Cost of Discipleship, Bonhoeffer makes a distinction between cheap grace and costly grace. For him, cheap grace was the blind following of Church hierarchy or tyrannical governments. In contrast, Bonhoeffer describes “costly grace” as:
“The treasure hidden in the field; for the sake of it, [someone] will gladly… sell all [they have]. Such grace is costly… because it costs [your] life, and it is grace because it gives the only true life.”**
Five hundred years ago, Martin Luther, the founder of our Lutheran tradition, demonstrated the meaning of costly grace. During the Reformation, Luther preached that Christians are saved only by the grace of God, and not the institutional church or politicians. Eventually the Catholic Pope charged Luther with heresy. In April 1521, Luther testified and refused to recant his teachings, supposedly ending with these famous words, “Here I stand; I can do no other.”
Not many of us Lutherans today face the kind of threats Luther or Bonhoeffer faced. But I believe God still calls us to live our faith with the risk of losing what’s costly to you and me.
The risk of losing our congregation’s identity because we worship in a synagogue. The risk of losing friends because we speak out for Muslim immigrants when their local cemetery is vandalized, as happened just this week. The risk of losing a job or career, because you dare to come out of the closet.
That’s exactly the meaning of costly grace.
Here at St. Mark’s, I believe we are a community striving—as best we can—to live the true meaning of costly grace. Something that Martin Luther started so long ago.
Something that, by taking the risk of calling a new pastor today who might not have the same life experiences as you or me, may lead us to new opportunities for ministry and new truths for the meaning of the Gospel.
Something that, if we listen to the call of God in Jesus, will lead us to the gift of authentic faith and meaningful lives. Amen.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
* https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=John%201&version=NRSVUE
**Devotional Classics," edited by Richard J. Foster & James B. Smith; "The Cost of Discipleship" by Dietrich Bonhoeffer.
+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + +
GOSPEL READING: John 8:31-36
Then Jesus said to the Jews who had believed in him, “If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples; and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.” They answered him, “We are descendants of Abraham and have never been slaves to anyone. What do you mean by saying, ‘You will be made free’?” Jesus answered them, “Very truly, I tell you, everyone who commits sin is a slave to sin. The slave does not have a permanent place in the household; the son has a place there forever. So, if the Son makes you free, you will be free indeed.”
