Reflection on John 16:11-18

 

Trashy was not a glorious cat. 

His name was actually supposed to be “Trash Heap,” the name given by the farmer that I helped occasionally when I was younger, but his young son could not quite say, “Trash Heap,” so “Trashy” it was.  And, even a passing glance at the cat would reveal in a horror filled split second why he was called that. 

You would immediately see that Trashy’s left eye was more on the side of his head than it was on his face, looking like his face had melted in the sun while lying on his side.  In addition, his face was so flat that he probably could have run straight into a wall without even scratching his nose.  He was scrawny, obviously the last of the liter to get nutrition from his mother.  He could not hear either. That, paired with the bum eye made the little thing prone to walking into the wrong places; like the sharp edge of the metal shed, or the upturned tongs of the rake, or awaiting snakes in the tall grass. 

Did I mention that the thing had scars and bites everywhere? 

And, to top off the Batman evil villain look that he seemed to be going for, Trashy had a tail that was permanently in the shape of an L.

The thing was a walking horror show, and most of us helping on the farm treated him as such.  Some of the kids helping on the farm were outright mean, sneaking up on it, and throwing rocks its way. 

I was not like them.  I was scared to death of the thing.  I remember once being trapped in a corner and the monstrosity tried to rub its freakish head on the legs of my jeans. 

With all of that said, when asked to choose his very own kitten from the litter, the young son of the farmer chose the little, purring horror show with love in his eyes.

Trashy and the young kid were inseparable around the farm.  Trashy would rub its disgusting face on the child, and the child would stick close to his side, playing with him, and rescuing him from danger.  Trashy was his cat after-all.  He chose Trashy, and he treated Trashy with an endless sort of love.

One day during harvest, Trashy decided to go on a run that looked more like a drunken stupor then a full out run, and the stupor led him out into the driveway where a grain truck was just turning in.  Yelling, “No” the little boy chased after his cat, ran in front of the truck, and scooped up the little horror show.  The driver saw a quick flash of little boy, quickly put the brake pedal to the floor, slid in the gravel, stopped just short of the boy and his little monster, and all was good. 

That little boy was willing to lay down his life for that cat, in more ways than one.  He chose the cat and gave his life over to spending time with it.  He walked with the cat, protecting the cat from the dangers of the farm.  And, of course, he put the cat’s life above his own in the driveway. 

Who would do that? 

This boy, obviously, but maybe, the little boy was not the only one.

[Jesus said:] 11“I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. 12The hired hand, who is not the shepherd and does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and runs away—and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. 13The hired hand runs away because a hired hand does not care for the sheep. 14I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, 15just as the Father knows me and I know the Father. And I lay down my life for the sheep.  (NRSV, John 10:11-15).

Why do I tell stories like the one of the little boy and the not quite so precious cat?  It is the same reason that Jesus talks about shepherds and sheep: to make the love of Jesus Christ real; to proclaim that Christ shows up in very real ways throughout our lifetimes. 

Christ shows up in the love of a little boy for the cat that no one else would love; a boy who would risk his life to save a beloved creature of God. 

Christ shows up in the lives of shepherds who stretch their bodies out in front of the wolf so that their bodies might block the attack, allowing the sheep to run to safety. 

You see, Christ is not some religious concept that we carry around in our heads, but is actually God who comes to us in the flesh.  Jesus chooses to pursue us and run after us, even when our lives have become a deformed horror show.

And, “pursue” is the right word.  Psalm 23, you know the one that begins, “The Lord is my shepherd…” ends with the words, “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever” (NRSV, Psalm 23:6).  But, that is not actually translated correctly.  The Psalm should actually end, “Surely goodness and mercy shall “pursue” me all the days of my life…” 

God’s goodness and mercy do not “follow” us, like an obedient dog.  God is not obedient to us.  God does not answer to us.  But, God’s goodness and mercy do pursue us. 

God’s goodness and mercy chase after us.  They hunt us down.  They search and find.  God’s goodness and mercy run into the pathways of grain trucks and grab us.  They lie down in front of wolves and protect us.  They go to the cross and save us.  God’s goodness and mercy do not abandon us. 

The Bible puts it this way:  Jesus says, “I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father. And I lay down my life for the sheep.”

Have you ever considered that in Jesus’ kingdom, you are not left out of the ball game because you are terrible at hitting the ball? 

In Jesus’ kingdom, you are not left out of the beauty contest because your eyes do not line up perfectly, or because your body has never understood how to be shaped like an hour glass? 

In Jesus kingdom, you are not left out because you are late to the dance or left alone because you dance with two left feet.  

In Jesus kingdom, you are not the one in your group of friends that everyone forgets to call.

In Jesus’ kingdom you are known by name.  Jesus knows you like a shepherd knows his sheep, and you know Jesus in the same way that sheep follow only their shepherd’s call. 

Jesus walks with you through the dark valleys.  He guides your journey through the lands of the enemy. 

Jesus knows you, all of you.  Jesus knows the hidden parts, even the ugly and deformed parts.  Jesus truly knows you, and he pursues you with grace and love anyway, like a little boy who saw nothing but beautiful creature to love in the crooked, smashed face, and broken tailed little kitten. 

Have you ever considered that Jesus looks at the broken parts of your life, and sees nothing but someone to love?

And, have you even considered that Jesus looks at the broken parts of other people’s lives, other sheep who are not yet a part of his sheep, other people who are not yet a part of his people, and he actively pursues them with goodness and mercy?  It is true.  God pursues them with goodness and mercy, as the Bible reminds us today, rather than pursuing them with judgment and exclusion. 

That is the message of the cross.  That is the truth of goodness and love.  That is the way of the followers of Jesus Christ.

I could not possibly say it any better than the writer of 1 John, so listen up followers of Jesus Christ:

“We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us—and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. ¹⁷How does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help? ¹⁸Little children, let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action. ¹⁹And by this we will know that we are from the truth…” (NRSV, 1 John 3:16-19).

Reflection on Luke 24:36-48

 

What does eating and forgiveness have to do with one another?  Apparently, they have a lot to do with one another!  They exist side-by-side in this Easter commissioning from the gospel of Luke where Jesus casts his vision for the future of his people’s ministry.  But, before we get to that, I want to tell you about Amy.

Amy was one of the gang who sat at our school lunch table.  She always sat next to her best friend across the table from me.  Whenever a joke was cracked, Amy would lay her head on her best friend’s shoulder, and the two would share joy in the way that only best friends can do. 

Then came the day when Amy walked into the lunchroom, looked our way in apprehension, saw the scowl exuding from her friend’s face, and turned to sit alone at a table near the end of the lunch room.

“What happened?” I asked the friend.

“I am not talking about it,” she answered, throwing darts with her eyes in my direction. 

Well, I did not want to end up alone at the end of the lunch room, so I let the issue drop. 

But, she obviously did not. 

The next few days were not the same as before.  The laughter was not the same.  The joy was not the same.  With Amy absent, the people at the table were not the same.  A thick wall of tension filled the lunch room every time that Amy entered. 

She had obviously hurt her best friend in some deep way.  She had obviously “missed the mark” in her quest to be a good friend. 

“Missed the mark.”  That is the definition of sin that can be found in the ancient Greek language.  The word, ἁμαρτάνω (ham-ar-tan'-o) is a term from archery that refers to any shot other than a bulls-eye. 

So, to say to your wife that the dress looks great, when she actually hates the dress, is a slight ἁμαρτάνω (ham-ar-tan'-o); it is hitting the target near the bulls eye, but it is not quite there. 

But, when you say to your wife, “I absolutely hate that dress,” when it is her favorite spring outfit which makes her feel cute; that is not even aiming for the target.  That is ἁμαρτάνω (ham-ar-tan'-o) in its greatest sense.

Sin is missing the mark.  Whether it is by a little or by a lot; sin is sin.  It is missing the mark.

Now, if you want to talk about missing the mark, we need not look any further than the betrayal and denial that Jesus endures from his very own followers while on his way to the cross.  One could say that jumping ship on the Messiah and savior of the world just might be considered “missing the mark.”  Heck, it is choosing to jump away from the mark entirely all because you can see arrows flying your way. 

If anyone could have rightly banned his former friends to another table at the end of the lunchroom, it is Jesus.  But, in response to his friends jumping ship, Jesus chooses to do something different.  Jesus chooses to show up.  He shows up! 

The gospel of Luke reports that Jesus first shows up on a walk with a couple of his followers as they journey to Emmaus.  He joins them at the dinner table to break bread. 

And, then again, in today’s story, we see that Jesus chooses to show up with words of peace; “Peace be with you,” and asks to eat in their presence.  Broiled fish was on the menu. 

Do you see?  Eating and forgiveness go hand in hand.  Jesus seeks food and peace from those who have missed the mark.  Jesus chooses to forgive rather than forget.  Eating and forgiveness go hand in hand.

One day at lunch, Amy’s former best friend walked right past her normal spot at our table and sat at the edge of the lunch room, at Amy’s far flung, lonely table.  Amy came into the lunchroom minutes later.  She stood, holding her lunch for a moment, trying to decide what to do.  She finally took a deep breath and walked over, sitting next to her former best friend. 

We watched and listened.  We could not actually hear anything, but, to our relief, we finally saw a laugh, and the best friend laid her head on Amy’s shoulder. 

When you forgive each other, you can eat together.  Or, is it when you eat together, you forgive each other?  Or maybe, the two are so intertwined that they are one in the same. 

It reminds me of the Lord’s table, where the bread and the cup are so intertwined with the forgiveness of God that they cannot possibly be separated.

Do you want to know what being a follower of Jesus Christ looks like?  It looks like eating with people.  It looks like eating with those who need forgiveness.  It looks like eating with sinners and tax collectors.  It looks like giving food to the hungry and water to the thirsty.

And, when we, the followers of Jesus Christ, share in his simple ministry of eating and drinking with others, Jesus will commend us for eating and drinking with him.  And, when we ask Jesus when we ate and drank with him, Jesus will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me’ (Matthew 25:40).

One of the most practical and biblical suggestions that teachers of church growth continually provide is inviting a friend or acquaintance to breakfast and then opening the scriptures to them by going to church, or inviting a neighbor to church to hear the good news of the scriptures, and then paying for their lunch as you have lunch together following the service (or in these days of COVID, having a picnic together along the river walk). 

This suggestion is not just about growing numbers in the pews though.  It is about inviting God to grow faith in more and more people in the same way that Jesus grew the faith during his own ministry. 

This is Jesus’ vision for the people of God.  He envisions that we might open the scriptures together and eat together.  This is all in the hope that, just as Luke 24:47 states, “repentance and forgiveness of sins” can be “proclaimed in his name to all nations.”

So, just to be clear, the gift that Jesus envisions you giving to the world when you eat and open the scriptures is the gift or repentance and forgiveness. 

This gift is so much bigger than many Christians can even imagine.  You see, many Christians assume that preaching repentance and forgiveness means making people feel really, really bad about their sin by pointing out their sin, and then…only after they have been properly prepared through guilt and shame…sharing with them the gift of God’s grace.  That may be an exaggeration, but not by much. 

And, though I, in no way, want to take away from the powerful testimonies of those who have gone from lives of destruction, to lives of guilt, and then to lives that then seek God’s grace and love, the notion of intentionally making people feel really, really bad before they can hear a word of grace is not at all what the Bible preaches to us in Luke. 

If we look at what Jesus actually says, if we look at what the Greek actually says, we find that repentance really means “changing one’s mind.”  So, Luke 24:47 should actually read that Jesus desires you, his followers, to proclaim “the changing of your mind into forgiveness.”  I will say it again, “the changing of your mind into forgiveness.”  This is what the world, including us, needs to hear, according to Jesus.

Jesus does not say that his people are supposed to be about the business of proclaiming guilt and shame.  He does not say that his people are to be about the business of telling people how terrible they are and constantly pointing out the faults of the world.  Jesus does not say that his people are to be about the business of exiling friends to the far reaches of the lunch room, to remain alone until they come back groveling while coming to their senses.  Jesus preaches none of this.

This is what Jesus does say.  Jesus says that he is about the business of showing up in those far reaching places of exile with words of peace.  Jesus is about coming into the lives of those who have crossed him and abandoned him, saying, “Peace be with you.”  “Why are you frightened, and why do doubts arise in your hearts?  Look at my hands and my feet; see that it is I myself.”

In other words, Jesus comes to the table of the exiles and outcasts with forgiveness in his heart.  Like the best friend, he chooses to sit with them, full of forgiveness.

And that, brothers and sisters in Christ, is the business that the people of God are to be about.  We are about having our minds changed toward forgiveness, over and over, and over again.  We are a people who open the scriptures and see forgiveness.  We are a people who open our hearts to the possibility of forgiveness again and again.  And, we are a people who believe in the saving power of Christ’s forgiveness, the saving power of the cross.  We are a people of God’s forgiveness.

But, we should have known that all along.  After-all, we have a baptismal font that is all about the free gift of forgiveness, even for babies who could not have possibly even earned it.  We have preaching each and every week that reminds us that Jesus cares desperately about sharing God’s forgiveness.  We are urged regularly to pray for our enemies, in the hopes that we might share forgiveness even with them.  And, we have a meal in which we partake in Jesus’ body of forgiveness. 

We are a people of eating and forgiveness; all because Jesus first came to us, ate with us, and forgave us. 

After-all, when you choose to eat with someone, it is because you love them.  How can you possibly desire to eat with someone and not forgive?

Eating and forgiveness go hand in hand.

Reflection on John 20:19-31

 

There is so much that is surprising about Jesus’ resurrection appearance to his disciples, who remain shut away from the world out of fear. 

Jesus appears despite the doors being locked. 

Jesus breathes on them the Holy Spirit. 

Jesus gives them the ability to forgive sins, a job relegated to God alone previously. 

But, of all of the surprises, the one that caught me and stopped me dead in my tracks was Jesus showing his healed wounds to his disciples. 

Though we have seen countless images of Jesus showing his wounds to Thomas in art throughout the years, and heard the story countless times, it struck me just how counter-cultural this simple act is.  How many of us share our deepest wounds with others?  How many of us share the time we were on the point of suicide; or share the time we were out of control on alcohol; or share the time we acted recklessly in the car; or share the time we were out of control, anger dripping from our lips at our children, and they were afraid; or share the time we broke our own little toe on the stool by the kitchen island because we were mad and stomping around the house?  That last one was a little too specific, wasn’t it?

You see what I mean?  In shame, we hide our wounds.  In shame we hide our failures.  But, in hiding those failures, shame also causes us to hide the healing. 

You want something to be shameful about?  How about the government putting you to death in a very public way, with your clothes stripped from you, while leaders of the community spit at you and taunt you as passersby going into town gawk at your exposed body?  You do not parade wounds like that.  I have not even shared with anyone the one time during my entire elementary school career that I was sent to the principal’s office.  It was not even my fault, but you are the first to hear about it.  Yet, the Bible says this about Jesus appearance to his closest followers: 

When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side.

And again, a week after Thomas shouts out “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.” the Bible tells us: 

Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.”

It seems that for Jesus there is no shame in wounds; quite the opposite.  Somehow, sharing his deeply shaming wounds with others brings along with it peace and healing.  And, in my experience anyway, we all need that sort of healing.

Did you know that my grandpa ended his own life?  The guy that took me fishing, would take me for Sunday rides in his jeep, and who caught minnows one day and in no way dissuaded me from the belief that the fish sticks that we ate that evening were the very minnows that we caught; that guy that I loved dearly chose to leave us.

It was not in any way taboo in our family to talk about grandpa’s death, but I did not.  Shame is a strong thing.

This happened while I was in elementary school, and for years after I struggled with the fact that I beat him at cards the night before.  Maybe I should have let him win and he would have been happy?  Did I give him a hug before he left?  Was I angry when he got after me?  Did I say something nasty?  I couldn’t remember.  The questions dripped from a wound that would not heal. 

Heather is the one Jesus sent to bear his likeness to me.  Heather was a friend from the first days of my college career, and one day while we walked to our dorms from the lunch hall, she mentioned, out of the blue, that she was bummed that day because it was the anniversary of her brother’s death.  He too had taken his own life and she too struggled, wondering if she had any part in the tragedy.  She talked about it so openly.  She talked about it with no shame.  She talked about how she had forgiven him.  She talked about it. 

“My grandpa took his life also,” I suddenly mentioned.  I was just as surprised by the admission as she. 

“Really?  Tell me about it,” she said. 

And, so I did.  I told it all, for the first time.  I told about the horrible find.  I told about my guilt.  And, in the same way that loosening a tight belt relieves the uncomfortable tension, but exposes the truth of your belly, the story that she listened to brought the relief of holy peace, even though the truth was out there, bearing its ugly presence. 

“It’s nice to know I’m not alone.  Thank you, for sharing with me,” she said with a smile. 

But, it was she who needed to be thanked.  She was the one who followed Jesus’ lead and exposed her healed wounds.  She was the one who pointed a way beyond the shame to healing.  She was the one upon whom Jesus breathed the Holy Spirit of forgiveness and allowed me the freedom and conviction to utter that evening into the night sky, “I forgive you grandpa.”

Everyone’s hands look different.  Some hold the greasy stains of daily struggle.  Some hold the healed wounds that come from broken bottles.  Some hold the healing photo of the one who died.  Some hold the healed wounds of disagreement and hard-heartedness or the dark, healed bruises of abuse.  Everyone’s hands look different, and everyone’s hands hold scars. 

The key to what the Bible is trying to preach to us is that Jesus did not put his hands in his pockets.  He did not buy designer gloves to cover them up.  Instead, Jesus chose to show up in that fear stricken room, he stretched forth his hands and he intentionally showed his healed scars to the scared and disoriented disciples. 

After-all, the message that we desperately need to hear is not that our imperfections are something shameful, to be hidden so as not to entice death.  Rather, we need to hear the message that wounds can be overcome. 

Death does not get to win the day.  The fear of one’s shame does not get to control one’s world.  Rather, the good news of Jesus Christ is that our shame is healed and overcome in his death and resurrection.  The scars become a part of who we are, just as they became a part of Jesus’ saving work.  The healing that Jesus brings us becomes a vital part of our faith story. 

“Jesus said to Thomas, ‘Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.’ Thomas answered him, ‘My Lord and my God!’” 

Do you not you see?  Thomas can believe because he sees the healed wounds.  How many people feel alone in their struggles all because they have never been shown the healed wounds that Jesus provides?  How many people are stuck in the past, staring at gaping wounds that could have been healed long ago had someone shared their own healed wounds? 

The wounds are a part of your story.  It’s OK.  Nobody’s story is perfect.  Nobody’s.  We are humans.  We are not gods.  And the scars that prove you have been healed are what make you a part of Jesus’ story of redemption.  Jesus has brought you healing.  Jesus has made you whole.  Jesus has redeemed you from sin and death.  The scars prove it.

So, do not fear showing those healed scars.  You never know who Jesus will bring your way, whose wounds are still bleeding and in need of healing.  You never know who Jesus will bring your way so that they can hear the good news of new life and second chances through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ our Lord.

Reflection on Mark 16:1-8

 

It ends with the women, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome, all running away from the scene of the resurrection in fear. 

Really, truly, that is the end of the gospel of Mark: fear.  Some unsatisfied monks years later tried to tack on what they thought were better endings to Jesus’ story and you can read them in your Bibles if you want.  These monks just could not possibly see how the very heart of the Christian faith, the very root that nourishes us and bears the fruit of belief could have its roots in unresolved fear. 

Yet, we are a people who look to the Bible to guide all aspects of our faith, so we do not get to choose what it says.  We just have to contend with the fact that the resurrection story in Mark ends in fear.  We just have to contend with the fact that the ending does not seem like an ending at all.  We just have to contend with the fact that the life of faith is not always the bliss of walking and talking with Jesus in the garden alone. 

Indeed, the last words of Mark do not seem like the ending of a story at all. They seem more like the buildup to a sequel.  

The Bible says, that the young man in white, who announces that Jesus has been raised from the dead, tells the women to “go, tell [Jesus’] disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.” So [the women] went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid. 

That is the end.  But, it is not the end.  We are here, telling the story today, 2000 years later.  The women had to have said something at some point.  The story continued on at some point. 

And, maybe that is the point.  Maybe, the point is that Jesus’ resurrection gets rid of the ends of stories.  Maybe, the point is that the resurrection means that Jesus can allow any story to continue.  Maybe, your story does not have an ending either, thanks to the resurrection of Jesus Christ our Lord.

This reminds me of a play that I heard about once.  I heard it years ago, and I cannot for the life of me remember the play’s name, but I can certainly remember the twist at the end of the play. 

The lights go down toward the end of the show, and when the lights come back up, they reveal an empty stage.  The actors never return to the stage and the curtains (this is key) never close. 

For minutes the audience sits uncomfortably, yet the house attendants stand at the doors, keeping them shut.  Eventually, someone gets up the nerve to go on the stage and look around.  They handle the props.  They invite others to play around on the set.  Chairs are sat in.  Bottles are opened and smelled.  Stories are told.  Beds are laid upon.  The audience becomes a part of the story.  The whole point of the play is that there is no end to the story.  The audience gets to continue the story. 

And, I think that is what Mark, our preacher is trying to get at.  The lights may go down and come back up throughout the show…throughout our lives…but the curtains never close.  The resurrection means that, what we have been convinced is the ending, is not the ending. 

To those of us who have the details of our lives planned out, this can be a scary notion.  We like to be in control of our stories.  We want to know where they end.  We want them to end in a cabin by the lake with happy grandchildren visiting and filling us with love.  We want them to end on a beach in a warm climate; next to the person we have loved our entire life.  We want our endings to be our endings, and the idea that they might not turn out in the way that we had planned is scary.

But, for those who have been convinced by others that their stories are going to end in jail, or end in pain, or end in loneliness, because of the own sins or because of the sins of their parents or because of crazy circumstances, to learn that what people had convinced them would be the final curtain for their lives is merely a scene change, the lights coming down and then back up again, is quite simply, life giving. 

It is the gift of forgiveness. 

It is the gift of being raised to new life.

It is the good news of the resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ.

And, for those who fear the final lights going out, the lights that never come back on, the darkness that reeks of death, they too get to hear the good news that just because the lights went down, that in no way means that the curtain has closed. 

In fact, Mark 15:38 says that Jesus’ death means that the curtain of the temple that separates us normal people from the holiness of the Lord “was torn in two, from top to bottom.”  There is no final curtain.  There is only the next scene of new life with God for eternity.

And, for those of us who are not yet to that final lights out, and I hope that includes everyone here…  I know I can preach a boring sermon, but I am pretty certain that I have not killed anyone…yet.  We can set goals can’t we? 

And, for all of us here who are not yet to that final lights out, we hear Jesus’ voice which outright tells us that even our crazy circumstances are not the end of the story. 

What does the Bible say?  It says that the disciples were told, on multiple occasions, by Jesus himself and this young messenger of God in the tomb, that Jesus “is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him.” 

I do not know who convinced you that a small church is the end of the story, but it is not.  Get up on the stage and join Jesus.  He is already there, ahead of you. 

I do not know who convinced you that this changing world is the end of the story, but it is not.  Get up on the stage and join Jesus.  He is already there, ahead of you.  

I do not know who convinced you that the illness, or the addiction, or the lies, or broken relationship, or the abusive relationship, or the joblessness, or any other event in life is the end of the story. 

There are no curtains in Jesus’ story, and yes, you are a part of Jesus’ story.  You are a child of the holy one.  You are a child of the one who continues to write the story.  You are a child of the one who refuses to let the curtains fall. 

I do not know who convinced you of the end of your story.  Maybe, it was you?  Maybe, you cannot see the next act.  Maybe, you simply cannot imagine beyond the wall that you have put in front of yourself.  Well, I have news for you.  Jesus is already ahead of you.  Jesus already knows the next chapter.  And, I guarantee, it will not be a curtain. 

Oh, the lights may come down.  The scenery might change on you.  You might need to get your bearings once again and let go of the past scenes, but it is not curtains. 

Because, Jesus Christ only knows how to create new life.  Jesus Christ only knows how to write a new scene.  Jesus Christ only knows how to hold on to you in love, during the dark times, during the time on the cross, and he only knows how to pull you back up. 

After-all, in Jesus’ theatre there are no curtains.  There are no ends to the stories.  And, that is why this sermon has no ending. 

Why did I just see fear streak through half of your faces? 

No, no, I am not going to keep preaching.  This is the part where I step aside, and the sermon continues in you.  And, may Jesus tell a really good story of love and new life in your life. 

After-all, the root of our faith in Jesus Christ has nothing to do with endings.  Rather, the root of our faith in Jesus Christ has to do with the promise of new beginnings.  Welcome to the never-ending resurrection story.