For a liturgical church like ours, these first few weeks of November mark the end of the year. We have, in our worship at least, run the course set before us, from The anticipation of God's new thing, the incarnation, to the hope of Christ's coming again in glory. At the center of this year, stands the cross. Jesus's cross brings an end to sin and death. Jesus rises from the dead, the first and chief heir of what God promises to be an amazing new heaven, new earth, new creation. By God's grace this new creation includes you and me, as St. Paul writes, "So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!" 2 Corinthians 5:17. 

In November we stretch to see if we can yet see the end, Christ coming to us from out of God's future. Is it in sight? I suppose not in any visible way right now. We are hard pressed to say, "Look! Over here is God's kingdom!" and have anyone take you seriously. That is because, God's kingdom remains hidden in plain sight, in the ordinary righteousness that does not look glamorous or heroic. God's kingdom is hidden, just as Jesus himself both concealed and revealed the kingdom in his body. To see the revelation of where God is and what God is doing, now that is a special gift. Special, but not exclusive.

It is special because it comes from God's own Holy Spirit as in faith when we hear God speak, and we trust God's word. God's kingdom comes now in ordinary bread and wine, but in it, Jesus gives us his body and blood for our life. So, when we eat the meal, we taste a little of the heavenly banquet that will celebrate God's righteous reign. We pray that God's kingdom comes among us too, you and I, messed up and broken and all. In his love, Jesus has made us part of his life and given us a place in God's kingdom.

The past, like most of this year, lies behind us, dead in Christ. The future, God's future stretches out in front of us. We are, by God's grace, a heavenly host destined for God's praise and glory. Is that what you see when you worship on Saturday or Sunday? Probably not. But this month, we will hear God say it will be so when we gather around, open and read the holy story.

God give us the faith ... and the holy imagination ... to hear and trust your promise and to invite others into our hope. In Jesus' name. 

“When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place” (Acts 2:1). It is a prayerful hope of mine that when Pentecost arrives, all of us who call ourselves St. Paul’s Evangelical Lutheran Church would be together in one place – most likely in the sanctuary of the building located at 445 Old Post Road in Edison, just off Route 1.

Luke’s Gospel makes a dramatic turn near the end of chapter nine. Luke writes, “When the days drew near for him to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem.” (Luke 9:51) From that moment on, the entire narrative flows towards the events of what we now call Holy Week: Jesus triumphal entry, his teaching in Jerusalem, his last supper with his disciples, his betrayal, arrest, trial, crucifixion and death, and three days later, Jesus’ resurrection.

As we near the end of our Lenten journey – a journey follows Jesus in turning toward the cross – it is easy to grow weary as the road gets more difficult, more and more demanding. At the end of this road, we reach the end of ourselves. That is the cross. The solemn words of Ash Wednesday – “Remember, you are dust and to dust you shall return” – reach completion at the cross. The cross is the end.