Photograph by Javier Allegue Barros via Unsplash

It is impossible to overstate the importance of faith formation. It is a necessary part of making a person more grounded in the faith that they believe in.

Watching the life stages of faith formation is one distinctive of Luke’s gospel. Throughout his story of Jesus, Luke demonstrates that Jesus is the product of a household that took faith seriously. In infancy, the circumcision and presentation of Jesus happens at the appointed time. As an adolescent, Jesus remains in Jerusalem while the family returns home from pilgrimage, engaging the wise Temple elders rather than immaturely running amok. From the time of his baptism to nearing his death, one finds Jesus often in fervent, reverential prayer. Jesus keeps the faith well, immersed in the traditions and customs, and most importantly, the sacred text of Law, Wisdom, and Prophets.

Jesus spoke with an authority from above, but he also spoke from a place within himself that only comes from keeping the faith seriously. He listened to these scriptures and let them simmer deep down in his bones. That humble certainty fueled his ministry as surely as the power of the Spirit empowered Jesus.

In the Gospel of Luke and its sequel, the Book of Acts, the Spirit, the Spirit of God, provides the spirit that drives the Christ and the first Christians. It is Luke that holds that the Spirit brings the power to speak, to act, and to go forth, bringing about the good news. Jesus is empowered by the Spirit, and likewise the Church that follows the Christ is dependent on the enlivening force of the Spirit. He speaks prophetically, as one with authority and grace.

Reading Luke 4:14-21, we preacherly types feel just a tinge of envy at how this “sermon” unfolds. Jesus reads the scroll of Isaiah and gives an opening line that gets the crowd talking: “Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

To be honest, preachers would give most anything to have folks on the first line! (Oftentimes, for the listeners, the sermon is a bit like watching a baseball game. You hope that it does not go into extra innings!)

Jesus goes on in his commentary on Isaiah by anticipating the criticism that he would get. Among the crowd, some listeners expected Jesus to provide the same help he was giving freely elsewhere. Others were skeptical that Jesus had the abilities to heal and teach that was spreading around. He invoked stories from Scripture about the “outsiders” being the most likely to follow God. Jesus disturbed this crowd by reminding them of what they ought to know: the ongoing refrain within the scriptures that made provision for those in need.

Jesus is about the work of God, bringing the good news. The promise of Isaiah is being fulfilled in Jesus’ work. Yet in rustic Nazareth, it took people a little by surprise to hear that sort of authority in their midst. After all, they knew Jesus as the son of a carpenter. Jesus was not considered learned. No Ivy League credentials. Not even a divinity school degree. Jesus befuddled the home crowd to no end.

How did this boy of Joseph develop this ability? And a few started to mutter, “Who does he think he is?”

In her book on the spirituality of raising children (appropriately entitled “In the Midst of Chaos”), Bonnie Miller-McLemore tells of worshiping in a Lutheran church where the sanctuary was adorned with a large sign that said, “May the Spirit of God disturb you.”

Miller-McLemore writes, “These words were posted to honor Gertrude Lundholm, a Lutheran woman who deeply shaped and inspired all generations in the community and who had died only the week before. During Eucharist, she would pass the peace in just this way. ‘May the Spirit of God disturb you,’ she’d say as she embraced her neighbor.

“What did Lundholm mean? ‘Many Christians, she told a friend, ‘seem to think the peace of God is just about their own internal peace of mind, as if being a Christian is kind of like being on a kind of tranquilizer. But God intends to stir us up…to make us notice new things, to keep us from being complacent.’”[1]

Many churches err in settling for comfort and familiarity, thus negating the ongoing need to evaluate their ability to be a faith community that is able to reach out and to include others, especially those who are really “other” in various ways to the majority of the congregation.

Properly reverenced, Christ is a confounding figure for us. He spent time with those forgotten or made to feel forgotten by the majority around them. Yet there is a certain degree of taming that happens when we read the Gospel from a place unaware of our secure or aloof privilege or within a community of faith too self-assured.

“May the Spirit of God disturb you” sounds like a bit of ire at first. Perhaps it is the word of blessing we need most. It may allow us to hear anew the hope found in “Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

A prayer:

Call us, O God, to become deeper disciples of our faith in You.

Confound us, O Christ, to live the Gospel more expansively.

Disturb us, O Spirit of God, that we might be more vulnerable and attentive.

In the name of the Father, Son, and Spirit, AMEN.