Reflection on Luke 21:25-36

 

The man had not talked to anyone in years…not in any meaningful way in any case.  Sure, he said the obligatory “hellos” and “thank yous” required while shopping, but other than that he was content to live alone in his house.  What did other people do in the world?  He did not really know, or care. 

I guess you could say that he was alone, but after so many years he really did not feel alone.  What is loneliness anyway?  It had been over twenty years since his wife left him through a car accident, and it had been over twenty years since he touched another person.  Did he miss it?  How would you know after twenty years?  Being alone had simply become a way of life. 

In church we remind each other on a regular basis that God is not absent, that God is at work out there, and we would see it if only we had the right eyes: the eyes of faith.  The man did not have these eyes.  From the confines of this house he could see very little.

And then, the flood hit. 

Like a tin can that is forced opened on both sides, the surge of rushing water completely opened up the lower floor of his home.  After the initial rush of water had passed, he wandered the lower floor of his home in a daze.  His television was gone.  Somehow, this made him feel, alone.  All of his books had washed out.  There would be no more adventures and no more characters to which he could relate.  He was alone. 

Unexpected tears filled the man’s eyes.  The man sobbed over the loss of his books.  The man wailed at the loss of his television of all things.  And, and quite unexpectedly, the man grieved his wife.  She was not here.  No one was here.

Watching the tears patter on the water around his feet, he suddenly felt a warm touch on his hand.

“Sir, we have to get you out of here,” the woman said kindly.  Her warm hand guided him outside, though the opening in the wall of his living room.  Jesus had come.  As he held the hand of the woman, and as they waded through the water, he could not help but see that Jesus had come.  The body of Jesus Christ had arrived in that warm touch.  Jesus has come, riding in on the clouds of that storm. 

Maybe, he was not so alone after-all? 

It was true, all that the man had, was now gone.  It had passed away.  But, for this man, the storm was not an end to his story; rather, it was the beginning of a new one…one in which he was no longer alone.  Jesus had come to him through the storm.

As I was sitting and pondering this promise: that Jesus is present in the storms of life.  And, as my mind wandered, as it often does, I remembered an unremarkable experiment that every little kid eventually tries. 

Imagine a three year old, squatting down by some moving water (maybe by a creek or at the ocean).  And now imagine that he takes a pile of sand and piles it up on a rock that is partially submerged in the rushing water.  What happens? 

It is a simple experiment, I know, and what happens is obvious: the water rushes by and slowly erodes the sand, bit by bit, until all that is left is the rock.  Little three year olds will do this again and again, confirming the hypothesis that the water will take away the sand bit by bit, but not the rock.  Now, why in the world was I wasting time remembering this simple little experiment?  Because, though it is simple, I am not certain that we always trust the result.

Jesus says this, "Look at the fig tree and all the trees; as soon as they sprout leaves you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already near. So also, when you see the storms taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is near. Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all things have taken place. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.”

“Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.”  “Heaven and earth can be washed away bit by bit, but my words are a boulder,” Jesus teaches.  The more the cloudy mounds of sand are washed away, the clearer you can see the care, love, and grace of Jesus.  When the walls that have closed you in, finally wash away, then maybe you will finally be able to feel Jesus’ warm hand on yours. 

The promise of Jesus, to always be our rock of power and love, does not wash away.  So, stand up straight with your head held high and face the storm directly.  Have hope, Jesus is here!

It is easy to preach, “Face the storm,” but it is quite another to actually do it.  If the rain starts to pour, I have no problem taking another stroll through the aisles of the grocery store.  And, a little more to the point, when the rains of life start to pour, I have no problem hiding away in the walls of my home under the warmth of my blanket.

You know what I mean?  We have been through a lot these past couple of years, and I have seen the very real human need to take shelter against the chaos of the world play out again and again.  There is so much to fear.  There are so many rocks breaking apart throughout the world.  Deaths are on our minds.  The way things used to be seems to be gone for good.  Churches are not rebounding, but the virus is.  Families are torn apart by politics in ways they had not been before.  Divorces threaten families that have already suffered so much strain.  Homelessness threatens ever younger and younger people as drugs and alcohol present themselves as a shelter to the weary parents.  Children face bullies in school and online.  They cannot find a safe shelter. 

And, to top it all off, the over-burdensome expectations of Christmas are coming!  Hurray!  It is all one huge mess of a storm, and it threatens to wash us all away.

“Is this the end of the world?” I was asked again this week as the individual considered hunkering down.  I get asked this a lot lately.  The writer of Luke got asked this a lot by his church as they considered hunkering down and disappearing from sight.  And, as he pondered his response, I cannot help but wonder if he thought of that early sand, water, and rock experiment that we do as three-year-olds.  And, when thinking of that experiment, I wonder if Jesus’ Spirit filled him until he shouted out Jesus’ promise to the world, “Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.”

“Wars can threaten to destroy; divorce can tear people apart; waters can rip through houses; storms can rip away; churches  buildings can disappear; earth can be moved until it is no more; pandemics can rage and kill, all can be washed away, but my words of care, love, and grace will remain.  I will remain,” Jesus declares in the face of the storm.  Even pain, and tears, and death itself will pass away, but Jesus’ promise will never pass away.  Crosses will always be overcome.  Jesus is our rock.

And, warm hands of the members of the body of Christ will always be there to guide people away from the rubble.  People of God, Jesus instructs you to raise your heads high.  Do not stare at the destruction.  Rather, look for the Lord.  Look through the clouds, for your salvation is here.  Look and see that your rock has not moved.  Be the one to look up, because when you do, you will see the truth and you will share the truth with a hurting world: the Lord is here. Raise up your heads!

Reflection on John 18:33-37

 

He seemed to live in his own world.  Every once and a while, one of our seminary professors would show up late for class.  Now, at my seminary, there was a rule that students could leave the class if the professor did not show up within 15 minutes of the beginning of class, and there were certainly times that the professor was pushing the boundaries of this time limit, but we never left.  Instead, we waited patiently. 

To everyone else, this man seemingly did live in his own world and did not care about inconveniencing others, such as students waiting to start class.  But, for those who knew him well, the professor was living in a different world…a different kingdom you could say…but it was not of his own making.  He was living in Christ’s world, doing Christ-like things, and he always prioritized those things over small things such as starting class on time.

“Sorry, I’m late,” he said one day as another student came into the classroom at the same time.  She later told us that she was struggling with…well it was a confidential conversation…but, she was struggling, and the professor took the time at the very start of class to minister to her struggles.  To this guy, there was nothing more important at that moment than offering some healing words to the young woman.  This professor did not live in his own world; he lived in Christ’s world.

And, that is what living in Christ’s kingdom is like.  As followers of Christ, we walk down the same sidewalks, and go through the same doors, and smell the same flowers, and see the same people as anyone else, but where everyone else sees the world as an obstacle to overcome, followers of Jesus Christ see the world as something and someone to love.

Do you want to know what has always struck me as strange about Jesus, even as a little kid?  It was how he did not struggle against these people who were trying to put him to death.  I just did not get that.  Like in today’s reading, Pilate (the governor of the land) is questioning Jesus, after Jesus’ own people have handed him over to die at the hands of the Romans.  Pilate is giving Jesus an opportunity to defend himself. 

“Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me. What have you done?” Pilate asks. 

And, here is the part that I have always been baffled about.  Jesus responds, “My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here.”

All my life, growing up, I have been taught that it is OK to defend yourself.  I still remember clearly the message coming at me in black and white from the TV, where Andy, the sheriff in the Andy Griffith show, tells his son that it is OK to punch another kid if he needs defend himself.  I also remember teachers turning a blind eye to students setting the class bully in their place, sometimes with fists.  Our culture has taught us that sometimes you need to take the kingdom by storm in order to save it from falling apart.  We have seen plenty of people, on our televisions, taking our kingdom by storm in order to save it over the past number of years.

So, why do we not do the same for Jesus?  After-all, if Jesus is truly the way, the truth, and the life, why do we not try harder to take the kingdom by storm in his name?  Why are not we storming the halls of congress in his name?  Why are we not taking to the streets with masses of human bodies, marching to preserve and glorify Jesus’ name?  Why do earthly leaders and earthly causes get our blood and sweat, but Jesus, the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end, does not in the same way?

Before you run into the streets and grab your wood and cardboard protest signs, you need to know that there is a reason we do not.  First, Jesus simple does not want it.  When Peter tries to defend Jesus during Jesus’ arrest, drawing a sword and cutting off a servant’s ear, Jesus yells at Peter to put away his sword!  Jesus’ kingdom is different. 

Again, I remind you that Jesus tells Pilate, “My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here.”

It is as if Jesus walks in our world, under the rules of our world, and facing the leaders of this world, but acts as if he were actually walking around in a completely different world.  Like my professor, Jesus sees things differently.  Jesus sees the world as a place to love and save, and not a place to control.

And, as followers of Christ, we too walk around in the world, under the rules of the world, and face the world and its struggles and games of power.  But, we follow Jesus, and it looks to everyone else that we are playing this game called life by different rules.  And, it looks like that because we are.  We are in the world, but not of the world.

I think of Paul and Silas, chained up in prison, singing songs of praise and thanksgiving to God.  The tune filled the air of the prison and filled the hearts of the prisoners and the prison guard with the gift of the Spirit.  Is not prison supposed to be depressing and demoralizing?  To everyone in the world it looks like we live in a different kingdom and follow different rules, because we do.

I think of the pastor who only employs gang members from the streets in his ministries of care to the neighborhood.  Because, in these men, through the tough and dangerous exteriors, he sees the fingerprints of God and he sees the spark of the Spirit.  It looks like we live in a different kingdom and follow different rules, because we do. 

And, I think of the professor who is not beholden to the concept of “time,” but is instead beholden to the concepts of “love” and “healing.”  He will never be accused of not taking the time to help.  He will never be the one to pass up the beaten man on the side of the road.  He is a Good Samaritan, living the ways of the kingdom, following different rules because he knows the truth, and the truth sets him free. 

Jesus says, “Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.”  And, to the dismay of seminary administrators, that professor listens to the voice of Jesus very well.  He lives in a different kingdom from the rest of the world: the kingdom of God.  He follows the way, the truth, and the life. 

That means that sometimes the dean needs to talk to him about timeliness.  And, he will continue to graciously say thank you for the correction, and then he will continue to ignore the correction, because he knows who he follows, and it is not a page filled with administratively created schedules.  He follows the Lord of love, Jesus Christ.

And, so do you.  Christ has made you a part of his kingdom because he loves you and wants you to be there.  The world cannot see this kingdom, but you can.  It is a kingdom in which Jesus’ love dictates everything.  It is a kingdom in which the Spirit leads and inspires, even on the days when you are slammed away in prison, or a boring meeting…there is no difference, right?  It is a kingdom that uses the same streets, but is guided by different signs: signs of love for the world.  “For God so love the world.”

Reflection on Mark 13:1-8

 

It was not that many years ago that my son Isaac was just learning to stack blocks.  I remember one of the first times that he was able to stack quite a number of blocks on top of one another.  He had just placed the seventh block on top of his thin, block tower when his excitement got the best of him and he accidentally kicked the tower down with his foot.  Isaac screamed, with tears dripping off of his cheeks, as seconds of time and effort were now down the drain.  Though a little part of me wanted to laugh at the drama over a stack of blocks which can be reconstructed in seconds, another part of me wanted to cry along with him, my heart squeezing the way it does anytime something that we hoped would last suddenly falls apart.

Maybe, I can be a little too empathetic sometimes.  Or, maybe it is because I have seen so many people struggle when what they have strived to build comes crashing down.

I think of the random guy on the internet who was videoed cutting down a really large, dying tree next to his house.  Though he thought he was cutting it correctly to fall safely away from his house, the tree ends up giving its life in the opposite direction and end up taking the life of the house with it.  The tree completely crushes the roof of the house and essentially cuts the entire house in half.  The man just stands there in utter disbelief.  I am certain the tears followed shortly after. 

Things fall apart, even when we do not want them to fall apart.

Jesus would look at our tears and hear the fears of our heart and tell us, “Do not be alarmed.”

I think of the young mother who furiously cleaned the home, finished the yard work, and shopped for some nice clothes for her children so that everything would be perfect when her beloved sergeant came home.  She could not believe her eyes or ears when the person approaching her door in uniform was not her expected husband, but rather a soldier commissioned to inform her that her husband would never be home.

Things fall apart, even when we do not want them to fall apart.

Jesus is there to see our tears, and he is there to hear the fears of our heart, and he reassures us, “Do not be afraid.”

The plain truth is that things fall apart in this life.  Nothing lasts forever.  Businesses close, loving relationships cease, families crumble, fortunes are lost, beloved toys break, historic paintings get burned, wisdom is forgotten, heart valves fail, houses do not last, and very nice vitamin C colored sports cars end in a blinding black cloud of thick smoke right in the middle of highway 220 between Towanda, and Monroeton…not that I would know.  Block towers that you have invested time building, fall within seconds.

That makes me think of the disciples who followed Jesus out of the holy temple, and then stared up at the massive stones and buildings.  I think of those who gazed at the craftsmanship that was designed to last thousands of years, and that also brings me to think of Jesus who also looks up and says, “Do you see these great buildings?  Not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down.”  Shortly after, they were.

And, as people of faith from around the nation look up at their beautiful, sacred spaces and then look down again and see just how empty the pews and chairs in these spaces have become over the past two years (during the pandemic), or even longer, these people of faith wonder if Jesus might be talking about their temples too?  After-all, things fall apart, even when we do not want them to fall apart.

And, when things do fall apart, what does it all mean?  Does it mean that we have failed?  Does it mean that God no longer cares?  Does it mean that it is near the end and that God is just done with us?  Does it mean that we deserve the pain that comes when things fall apart?  Are we being punished? 

We ask because we do not know what it means!  Do you know the first thing most people do when they have no idea what it all means?  People start searching for meaning.  And when people search, there are always others who are all too happy to come and tell us what it all means.

“Maybe, you need to live differently.  Come and follow me.”

“Maybe, you sinned a terrible sin and are being punished.  Come and follow me.”

“Maybe, you just never tried hard enough.  Come and follow me.”

There are so many people who are just waiting in the bushes for the chance to give you all the answers, as long as you take their pills, or buy their books, or offer up your money, or follow them wherever they lead.  Do not be mistaken, their words will sound a lot like the Lord’s words.  Their actions will look a lot like the actions of the Lord.  And, because of the danger they pose, Jesus has some words for you:

“Beware that no one leads you astray.  Many will come in my name and say, ‘I am he!’ and they will lead many astray.”

Because of this warning from Jesus, lots and lots of people ask me how they know for certain whether or not something is from the Lord or from world.  And, as far as I know, there really is only one faithful sort of answer.  Does it demonstrate a love or a concern for someone else rather than self?  Is it self-sacrificial in nature?  Does it heal or help?  Does it draw together in love rather than dividing?  Does it look like Jesus giving his life on the cross?  If it looks like that, then it is probably from the Lord.

Oh, and one last thing: does it try to hold on to what was rather than embracing what God is doing new?  After-all, the Bible preaches that God is doing a new thing.

Back to Isaac and his blocks, once Isaac discovered that you could just build everything back up into even taller towers and even more daring designs, he was then just fine destroying his creations.  “Kicking” was his go to method of destroying the towers.  And, I was relegated to searching for the now scattered blocks.  Fun for me!

Now, I am not saying that you should start having fun destroying everything and everyone around you.  We have a name a person who is like that, who also is not one and a half years old: a sadist.  What I am saying though is that there is a certain kind of freedom that comes when you no longer worry whether something will fall apart or change.  After-all, it is just a simple truth that things fall apart.  Jesus puts it this way:

“When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take place, but the end is still to come.  For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines.  This is but the beginning of the birth pangs.” 

Do you know who never promised that things would not change, or fall apart, or be a struggle in this life: Jesus?  Jesus never promised any of those things. 

After-all, Jesus is about crosses and empty tombs.  Jesus is about allowing old things and ways to die and is about making things new.  He builds back better and taller, and overcomes death and crosses.  He overcomes sin and stubbornness.  Jesus raises from the grave, and when he does, all things are made new. 

Things fall apart, yes.  But, do not be alarmed, something new, and holy, and great just might be birthed any second from our Lord, Jesus Christ.  And, that is why we put our trust in Jesus Christ and call him Lord.

Reflection of John 11:32-44

 

I have to admit that I put off writing this sermon for a long time.  All Saints Sunday is just hitting a little too close to my heart this time around.  Not that it has not in years before.  In the past, I have usually been able to find emotional shelter in some of the other ways that a preacher can approach All Saints Sunday. 

You can always go for the uplifting, “You do not need to be a special hero of the faith, dying from the gunfire of oppressive tyrants all the while proclaiming loudly that Jesus is Lord in order to be one of God’s saints.  As honorable as that is, all sainthood requires is that Jesus saves you, and that you trust that good news.  So, come all you scallywags!  You are a saint, and you are a saint, and you are a saint, you are all saints!  Find your place with the saints of God!”  That is a fine sermon if the Bible leads you in that direction.

And, it is always nice to hear the promise of Revelation, where we hear that God comes down to us and brings heaven along with, where there will be no more death, mourning, crying, and pain, “for the first things have passed away.”  We could just linger in that promise for a while and imagine, for a few minutes anyway, that everything is going to be alright.  And, there is nothing wrong with that sermon either.

Or, the preacher could lighten things up with a good old end of life joke: 

An old man is at home on his death bed when suddenly he smells something amazing. It's the smell of his favorite chocolate chip cookies. And with his last strength, he gets out of bed, and he goes to the kitchen, where his wife of 50 years, is cooking these beautiful chocolate chip cookies. And four of them are on a plate, just out of the oven. And with his last human strength, he reaches over to take one of the cookies.  His wife sees him, she rushes over, she slaps his hand, and she says, "No, those are for the funeral."

Can you tell that I am stalling?  It is because the gospel text for today is just so real, and just so full.  Rarely, do you get to hear about emotions in the Bible, but in this story about Lazarus’ death you get so many.

First, you get the grief stricken weeping mixed with accusatory anger from Mary.  Remember, that when Jesus was told that Lazarus was sick, he decided not to come and heal him.  Rather, Jesus stayed longer where he was at.  So, when Jesus does finally show up, he gets the tears and the wrath of Lazarus’ sister, Mary.  “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” 

Yeah, why did not Jesus show up?  Why did he not come and heal the man?  Why did not Jesus come and heal any number of people very close to us whom we loved?  The anger filled tears spill all over the place, and it is all a little too real right now because I feel some of that anger mixed with tears burning inside me.  I just do not think that I am ready to talk about it, so let us go with another joke.

Never challenge Death to a pillow fight, unless you’re prepared to face the reaper cushions.

Unfortunately for you, this is my day job.

Mary is not the only one dealing with grief in this story, though.  The Bible says that when Jesus saw Mary weeping, and everyone else with her weeping, “He was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved.”  Now, there is an ongoing argument between biblical scholars regarding the meaning of the Greek words here for “greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved.”  Some argue that they convey Jesus’ own sense of sadness regarding the loss of his friend.  But, others argue that the words are translated wrong and that Jesus’ greatly disturbed spirit is actually, deeply filled with anger and outrage.  And, as the scholars argue back and forth about the meaning I just say, “Yes, that is exactly what it means.” 

It means missing your Dad so much that you just want to break down and cry, even a year and a half later and, at the same time, you are just angry for no good reason what-so-ever!  So, Jesus knows where I am coming from. 

He was sad about Lazarus’ death and he was angry: For getting the blame from Mary?  For Lazarus’ dying when he should not have?  For pondering on his own impending death?  I do not know why Jesus would have this mix of sadness and anger.  Do we ever really know?  Why did I get mad at the Dandy worker for counting out my change too slowly just weeks after my father died?  I do not have a clue.  Why did a stupid children’s song send me into a fit of yearning for my Dad?  I do not have a clue.  He never sang it.  Was Jesus sad or angry?  I do not claim to be a biblical scholar here, but I know the answer.  The answer is just “yes.”

Very soon in the story, we witness the depths of Jesus’ soul.  The Bible says that “Jesus began to weep.”  His tears mix with ours.  His torment embraces ours.  His humanness holds ours.

Do you see what I mean about this story being so full?  It is just so real, and true.  The pain and tears and anger are just so real and true.

I know that there is a whole other half to this story, but I am just going to let us sit right there in the story for a moment so that we can soak in how…OK it is to grieve.  If the son of God does not need to develop a stiff upper lip, then neither do I.  And, neither do you.  Maybe, it is just fine for me to not want to preach this morning.  Maybe, it is just fine for it all to be too much.  Maybe, grief is just grief and it is fine to struggle through it because it is the only way that Jesus has, and similarly it is the only way that we have, to get to the other side.

The other side of what?

Jesus is weeping and again is “greatly disturbed,” but he does keep walking.  He eventually gets to the tomb.  Sometimes, just continuing to walk helps you get to the other side of wherever it is God is taking you, even when your eyes are filled with the clouds of tears and anger.  Take one step at a time, until you can finally see a new truth.

Martha, Lazarus’ other sister, is not ready to see a new truth.  Maybe, she simply cannot.  Maybe, it is just too hard to believe.  Maybe, the dead are supposed to just stay dead.  What happens when the dead refuse to stay dead?

Jesus said, “Take away the stone.”  Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, “Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days.”  Jesus said to her, “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?”

Can I just point out that Jesus knew what he was going to do all along?  Can I just point out that this final sign, the raising of Lazarus…oh, sorry, spoiler alert, Lazarus is raised…can I just point out that the raising of Lazarus is the very reason that Jesus did not come immediately heal the man?  Can I just point out that Jesus “was greatly disturbed in spirit” this whole time anyway?  Jesus’ grief did not equate to a lack of holiness.  And, your grief and anguish does not mean you lack of faith.  All it means is that you experienced a profound loss.

And, maybe what you need is to not listen to the voices that tell you to stop the grieving, but rather to instead witness a profound sign from Jesus.

After praying to God the Father that all who are standing there may believe that Jesus was sent from heaven, Jesus cries out with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!”  And, Lazarus came out! 

The other side.  Jesus shows us the other side of death.  Jesus shows us the other side of our tears and pain.  Jesus shows us the vision of when “God himself, will be with them; he will wipe every tear from their eyes.  Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away.”  And, because we have seen it, we will trust that Jesus has the power to make all things new.

So, when it hits me, again and again that my father is gone, through the tears and anger I will remember that Jesus is making all things new.  When the toll of this pandemic starts to drive my soul into the ground, I will mourn, and take a step forward anyway, and remember that Jesus is making all things new.  When the news drives me to believe that the state of our world is just hopeless, I will raise my head anyway because I remember that Jesus is making all things new.

And, when I do, when I raise my head and look to the throne of God, I will see all the saints dressed in white, all those who have been gathered there before the throne, and I will see my Dad there too, dressed in his white alb, and I will see that the stone has been rolled away and with tears in my eyes I will believe what Jesus has told Martha: we will see the glory of God.