Hang In There!

What do we do when we are faced by evil? We see it all the time in the evening news -- terrorist bombings, child abuse, incredible greed. How are we called to respond as Christians? I believe that the book of Revelation gives us an answer, although it is hard to hear amid the complicated structure of the text. I offer my suggestion in this sermon.

You may remember that when I started this series of sermons a couple of weeks ago, I said that I would be preaching only good news until the end of May. I remarked that I was tired of hearing bad news, because this year’s Lenten season seemed to be so very full of bad news. Things haven’t gotten any better, have they? Just when we thought that we might have a break from bad news, two young men bombed the finish line of the Boston Marathon. Those bombs killed three innocent people: 29-year-old Krystle Campbell, the manager of a local restaurant; 23-year-old Lu Lingzi, a 23-year-old student at Boston University; and Martin Richard, who was only 8 years old. Over 170 other adults and children were injured, runners and spectators alike. Some lost limbs, others suffered severe wounds from the shrapnel that was packed inside the bombs, and all of them were deeply troubled by the distress that they witnesses. None of them will ever be the same again.

Now, it’s one thing to lose a loved one to an illness. Although that kind of loss is difficult, we all know that our mortal bodies are going to wear out sooner or later. We can even deal with injuries that are the result of the workings of nature. We may not like it, but the fact is that floods, hurricanes, earthquakes, and tornados are simply hazards of living on this earth. But unnecessary harm caused to innocent people in the middle of a public event – that is, quite simply, the result of evil; and it is impossible for us to accept. The book of Revelation has quite a bit to say about evil. In fact, the book of Revelation faces evil squarely in the face like no other text in the Bible faces it. Revelation recognizes evil for what it is; assures us of its ultimate fate; and gives us instructions on how to behave as Christians while evil is still around. And if the church ever needed to hear that kind of message, we need to hear it now!

Like most of its messages, Revelation shows us the world’s evil in symbolic visions. In particular, we see three creatures that represent the evil that lurks in our world. The first is a dragon, a great red dragon who pursues the Messiah and makes war on all God’s people. The second rises out of the sea, appearing as a combination of a leopard, a bear, and a lion. We’re told that it has authority all over the world. You met the third in this morning’s reading from chapter 13 as it rises out of the earth. It looks like a lamb but it speaks like a dragon. This third beast is a deceiver; and it leads people into paths of destruction. These three beasts represent all the evil in the world of one kind or another. Don’t be misled into thinking that they only refer to one specific kind of evil. In the time that Revelation was written, the beasts probably referred to Rome and its emperor; but they have referred to many kinds of evil down through the ages. 70 years ago, Adolf Hitler and the Third Reich could have been the beasts; while today, they could be the network of global terrorism that threatens our security and our peace of mind. But don’t waste your time trying to decide which particular evil in history the beasts represent. They represent any of them and all of them.

After we see the visions of the evil creatures, we hear a puzzling statement: “This calls for patient endurance on the part of the saints.” (Revelation 14:12) “Patient endurance…” The Greek word that is usually translated as “patient endurance” is hypomone (hoo-poe-moe-nay). Sometimes it’s translated as “patience,” or as “endurance,” or even as “perseverance.” Regardless of how we translate it, we’re supposed to be doing it in the presence of evil. We’re supposed to be patiently enduring. But that endurance doesn’t mean just gritting our teeth and hanging on for dear life. On the contrary, hypomone is a positive endurance. It’s doing something while we’re hanging on.

The best example of hypomone is the little Dutch boy who stuck his finger in the hole in the dike. You probably know that story. The area of Europe that we call Holland is actually below sea level. The ocean is kept back by huge earthen dikes that surround the country. If one of those dikes springs a leak, the results can be catastrophic. As the story goes, one day when a little boy was walking along the dike, he saw just such a leak. There was nobody around but him; so he stuck his finger into the hole in the dike. And he kept it there. For hours. His finger got cold. It swelled under the pressure. It hurt terribly! But he kept his finger there until somebody came along who could offer some help! Because of that little boy’s hypomone – his patient endurance – a catastrophic flood was averted.

That’s what we Christians are supposed to do in the face of evil. We can call it “patient endurance” or “non-violent resistance” or just “hanging in there.” It’s all the same thing. Quite simply, it is resisting evil while not resorting to using the methods of evil. Gandhi practiced it to win independence for the nation of India – and to raise the status of members of the lowest caste, the Untouchables. The Danish people practiced it during World War II when Hitler ordered every Jew to wear a yellow star. Every single Danish citizen wore a star so that their Jewish neighbors could not be identified. And Martin Luther King used it to raise our nation’s awareness of civil rights issues. Hypomone isn’t just an obscure Greek word. It’s a living activity, one that all Christians are called to practice!

But I still haven’t answered the question that’s on the table this morning. What does this patient endurance have to do with fighting evil? The surprising answer, according to the book of Revelation, is that it’s not our job to fight evil. Jesus does the fighting for us! Our only job is to hang in there and patiently endure. In last Sunday’s scripture reading (Revelation 5:1-10), Jesus was called the Lion of Judah and the Lamb of God. Jesus appears again in this morning’s text from chapter 19. In today’s text, he’s a warrior on a white horse, and his name is “Faithful and True,” and “the Word of God.” In case you don’t recognize him, the name “King of Kings and Lord of Lords” is written across his robe, just like that big “S” that Superman has written on his chest. Yes, that’s Jesus, all right. And at the end of the day, he is the one who captures the beast and throws him into a lake of fire.

One of the messages of Revelation is that we humans can’t ever clean up cosmic evil. But Jesus can – and God promises that, one day, he will. Jesus will eventually destroy evil once and for all. But that day isn’t here yet. And until it is, we need to let Jesus do his work while we do ours – patiently enduring, holding tightly to our Christian faith, and believing in God’s promise that one day, Jesus will clean things up once and for all.

You might wonder what that kind of patient endurance looks like. I can show you in the person of retired South African Anglican archbishop Desmond Tutu. Archbishop Tutu was ordained back in the days when South African was officially divided by apartheid. He resisted not only this policy that separated black from white; he resisted the violence that was a frequent result. When the all-white South African government banned anti-apartheid demonstrations, Tutu and other members of the clergy intervened in confrontations between demonstrators and the police who were called in against them. He urged that economic pressure be used against the South African government instead of mob violence. When apartheid was finally rejected as a national policy, Archbishop Tutu led the Commission of Truth and Reconciliation that was charged with examining the sins of apartheid and looking for ways to foster reconciliation between black and white citizens.

For this nonviolent resistance against the evil of apartheid, Tutu won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1984; and just this year, he was awarded the Templeton Prize. This award honors those who have “made an exceptional contribution to affirming life’s spiritual dimension, whether through insight, discovery, or practical works.” The judges commented that “Tutu’s steadfastness to core Christian principles such as love and forgiveness has broken chains of hurt, pain, and all too common instincts for revenge; and instead, has advanced the spiritual liberation of people around the world.” That sure sounds like patient endurance to me. And what does Archbishop Tutu say? “We inhabit a universe… where kindness matters, compassion matters, caring matters,” he said in his official remarks. “This is a moral universe, and right and wrong matter. And mercifully, gloriously, right will prevail.”

I can only say “amen” to that. Despite all the evil that we see around us; despite the appearance that it is too powerful to defeat; despite its claim that it will have the last word; it doesn’t get the last word. Jesus gets the last word! Jesus is fighting for us; and Jesus will win in the end. So… hang in there!

Lion and Lamb

This sermon is the second in my series on the good news that the book of Revelation offers us. Last week, I preached on the cosmic Christ -- the One who is in all places, at all times, and all things to all people. This morning, I consider what kind of Christ this One is.

Have you ever thought about why some things are funny and others aren’t? Why do some stories make you laugh, while others don’t even put a smile on your face? Many elements go into comedy; but one of those surely is the unexpected. We don’t laugh at what we expect to hear. Here’s an example of that. “Why did the chicken cross the road?” We’ve all heard that joke. The punch line, “To get to the other side” isn’t even much of a punch line any more. It just isn’t funny – except maybe to a first grader. But if I ask, “Why did the chicken cross the road?” you might laugh if I replied, “Because the chicken farmer was running behind it trying to catch it.” You didn’t expect that answer. Humor relies on the unexpected.

And so does its partner “wonder.” We only laugh at the joke that surprises us; and we are the most impressed by something that surprises us, as well. When people catch their first glimpse of the Rocky Mountains, they stand open-mouthed in awe at the mountains’ towering majesty. But the people who live in Colorado don’t think twice about those mountains. They see them every morning, day after day. The Rockies may be a marvel of creation, but even their beauty is old news after a while. They lose their ability to amaze the people who are too familiar with them.

Why am I talking about the way our reactions are influenced by what we expect? What does this have to do with the gospel? Just this – we have lost the “punch” of much of the gospel because we’re too familiar with it. Familiarity may not breed contempt; but it can sure breed yawns of boredom. This morning’s reading includes a great example of that.

This text from the book of Revelation (4:1-3; 5:1-10) is part of the first great vision that the author describes to us. As the book opened, he saw a vision of the cosmic Christ – the One who is everything at all times and in all places. (I preached about this text in last Sunday’s sermon.) But who exactly is this Christ? How does he behave as he functions as king, priest, Spirit-bringer, and, in the end, God himself? How will we know him when we search for his presence among us? There are, after all, a lot of descriptions of Jesus Christ in the gospels. Sometimes he is a compassionate healer, blessing the children and healing the sick. Other times, he is a brilliant debater, shredding the teaching of the Pharisees with a mind like a knife. And sometimes he is a wrathful warrior, upending the tables of the money-changers in the Temple. Which Christ will John the Revelator show us as he looks into heaven itself and sees the throne of God? The answer in the vision that he describes to us is meant to set us back on our heels with amazement. It is a breathtaking reversal, an image that shocks us with an unexpected twist, more unexpected than the ending of any O. Henry short story could ever be. And most of us miss the punch line.

It begins with a question: Who is worthy to break the seals of the scroll that God holds in his right hand? Who is worthy to open the scroll that holds God’s intention for all creation? Who is worthy to interpret the scriptures once and for all? The answer, not surprisingly, is no one except God’s Messiah, the Root of David – the Lion of the tribe of Judah. We turn our eyes, expecting to see a fierce beast, a warrior who holds a sword and a shield, perhaps even wielding a bolt of lightning. We expect to see a Christ who will take revenge on all those who have opposed him – the Lone Ranger and Batman and the Terminator all rolled into one. Wow, we think, people are sure going to be sorry now!

But that’s not what we see. We are stunned to see a lamb that has been sacrificed. Its wounds are still visible, and its wool is still matted with its own blood. This is the Lion of Judah? This is the warrior who is worthy to open the scroll and interpret its contents? Yes, indeed – this is the triumphant Messiah. This vision that offers a sacrificed lamb in place of a vengeful warrior is completely unexpected, even shocking.  We’re ready to see a Christ who whacks people upside the head, but we see a Christ who offers to be whacked. We expect a Christ who conquers through force, but God gives us a Christ who triumphs through humility.

We usually miss the impact of the image because we expect it. We know that Jesus is the Lamb of God. We learned it in Sunday school! But let’s imagine, just for a minute, how that image must have impacted the first-century Christians who first heard it. In the time when Revelation was written, the entire known world was under the thumb of the Roman Empire. The Romans weren’t known for their kindness and compassion. No, they prided themselves on keeping the peace by any means necessary. That meant suspicious Roman soldiers stationed anywhere and everywhere. It meant imprisonment on even a suspicion of wrongdoing, with no rights to a trial. It frequently meant row upon grim row of public crucifixions as an example to anyone who might even think about rebelling against the government. No wonder the Jews were awaiting a Messiah who would knock heads in the most effective way! “Just wait, you Romans,” they muttered. “Just wait until the Messiah gets here. He’ll fix your apples right enough!”

But the Lion of Judah turns out to be… a Lamb? Do you mean that the Messiah doesn’t conquer by force? Do you mean that Jesus isn’t going to ride into town with his six-shooters blazing and get rid of all the bad guys? Do you mean that he’s not going to take revenge on everyone who has ever hurt anybody else? Yes… that’s pretty much what John means.

What’s more, John is telling us in his vision that Christ is both Lion and Lamb at the same time. Christ isn’t either Lamb or Lion; he’s both at once! We don’t have to give up the Lion of Judah when we accept that Christ is the Lamb of God. Jesus is victorious over sin, evil, and death! The good news of the gospel wouldn’t be very good if we didn’t believe that, now would it? It’s how Jesus is victorious that is so hard for many people to accept.

I once heard an interview with Dr. John Dominic Crossan regarding this very issue. Dr. Crossan is a respected New Testament scholar who concentrates on the very beginnings of the Christian church. He commented that many people expect Jesus to return at the end of time and – excuse the language; it’s what Dr. Crossan said – to return at the end of time and “kick butt.” The trouble is that Jesus didn’t “kick butt” the first time. If he had, he would have come down from the cross and straightened things out. People who expect him to come back with a sword in his hand are saying, in effect, “Well, he didn’t get it right the first time. Maybe he’ll do better when he comes again.”

I, for one, am very grateful that Jesus didn’t decide to fulfill his role as the Lion of Judah through violence. After all, if he decided to take vengeance on everyone who opposes him, that would include me. It would include you, too. It would include everyone who has ever lived, Christian or not. Let’s face it, not one of us lives the way that God wants us to live. The Israelites didn’t. The disciples didn’t. The early church members didn’t. And we don’t, either. The Lion of Judah is victorious because, through his wisdom and compassion, he understands that we can’t live the way God wants us to live, no matter how hard we try! And so, in his humility, he does it for us. Now, that’s an almost impossible thing to wrap our heads around – almost as impossible as believing that the Lion of Judah and the Lamb of God are one and the same person. Maybe, in the end, it’s just one of those things that we have to believe through faith, because our logic can’t handle it. And when we realize what Christ does for us – when we really realize it – it causes us to stop in wonder and amazement.

A recent hymn describes the Christ in beautiful language that sets the Lion of Judah and the Lamb of God shoulder to shoulder with each other.

            You, Lord, are both Lamb and Shepherd.

            You, Lord, are both prince and slave.
            You, peacemaker and sword-bringer
             of the way you took and gave.
            You, the everlasting instant,
            You, whom we both scorn and crave.
    
            You, who walk each day beside us
            sit in power at God’s side.
            You, who preach a way that’s narrow
            have a love that reaches wide.
            You, the everlasting instant;
            You, who are our pilgrim guide.

            Worthy is our earthly Jesus!

            Worthy is our cosmic Christ!
            Worthy your defeat and victory.
            Worthy still your peace and strife.
            You, the everlasting instant;
            You, who are our death and life.

And may we never forget it. Amen.

The hymn “You, Lord, Are Both Lamb and Shepherd” by Sylvia G. Dunstan is published in the Upper Room Worshipbook (Upper Room Books, 2006), Elise Eslinger, editor.

The Very Best news

When we think of good news, we seldom think of the book of Revelation. But it offers some of the best news in the entire Bible! During the next 6 weeks, my sermons will preach the good news as the book of Revelation understands it. If you are frightened by the book of Revelation -- or if you think that it is only for religious fanatics -- you might want to read this sermon and the ones that follow it. You may be surprised what you'll find!

This has been a difficult year so far for many of us. Several of us have lost a family member or a close friend with no advance warning. One day we were walking next to loved ones, and the next day we were burying them. Others of us have lost someone after a long battle with illness. We may have had more warning that we were about to be bereaved, but that didn’t make the funeral any easier to bear. Still others have dealt with other kinds of bad news. An illness has popped up, perhaps, and has caught us completely off guard. Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of hearing bad news. I want to hear some good news for a change! I don’t want Easter to be over quite yet. I don’t want to go back to Lent and think about what I’m doing wrong in my Christian walk – not right now. There will be plenty of time for that later. No, right now, I want to hear about what God has promised to do for me; because right now, I need to hear that -- and maybe you do, too.

So, for the next 6 weeks, I’ll be preaching out of one of the most optimistic books of the Bible – the book of Revelation. I know what you’re thinking. Revelation is an optimistic book? The gospel of John, maybe, but… Revelation? Why, Revelation is one of the most frightening books in the whole Bible! Some folks don’t even go near the book of Revelation because of its violence and its bizarre images. Some of its scenes could be right out of Nightmare on Elm Street. How could a book like that reassure us with its good news?

Before I answer that question, let’s take a bird’s eye view of the book of Revelation. You’ve probably heard it compared to a road map to the end of the world. Many people claim that if we look around in our world right now, we can identify events that correspond to scenes in Revelation. Then we can figure out where we are on our journey to the end of time. After all, the Revelation ends with the last judgment and the New Jerusalem; so it’s not unreasonable to think that the book might be a road map between our time and the end.

Actually, Revelation isn’t a road map at all. Instead, it’s a mirror… and a telescope… and a crystal ball.

·         It’s a mirror because it makes us look at ourselves and decide who we are deep down in our hearts. Revelation presents a contrast between the Church and the World. The Church follows Jesus Christ, while the World follows wealth and power and status. Revelation asks us to decide which side we’re on. When we look into its mirror, we have to take a side.
·         It’s a telescope because it gives us a view into heaven itself. It shows us God sitting on the throne and the angels doing God’s bidding. It shows us realities that are hidden from our human eyes. It shows us truth that we could never figure out on our own.
·         And it’s a crystal ball because it offers us a glimpse of the end of time. It shows us the New Jerusalem where there’s no more pain or suffering, and God enthroned among his people. The images are beautiful, but they aren’t clear. They’re shrouded in mist and mystery. We can’t see much detail as they float in and out of our vision.

All the images from the mirror and the telescope and the crystal ball are intertwined, woven together like a braid, so that sometimes it’s impossible to tell just who and what we’re looking at, and where it’s taking place. If we try to use Revelation like a road map, we’re bound to get lost. But if we use it like a mirror, a telescope, or a crystal ball, we may very well encounter truths that will deepen our faith in ways that we never thought possible.

So, now that we’ve taken a bird’s eye view of Revelation, back to the original question. What good news can we find in Revelation that is worthy of being preached at a time like this? The good news is simply this – that no matter what our situation may be, Jesus has it covered. Jesus is everything that we need, no matter where in life we may find ourselves. But the author of Revelation has chosen to tell us that in images instead of in logical statements. From the very beginning of the book, John shows us pictures to get his point across.

This morning’s selections from Revelation were almost nothing but images (Revelation 1:9-10, 12-18; 22:12-14, 16). Jesus speaks in a voice like a trumpet; he wears a long robe with a golden sash; his eyes are fire; his face is like the sun; a two-edged sword comes out of his mouth; and his voice is like the sound of many waters. Now, John doesn’t mean for us to take this picture literally. This isn’t what Jesus really looks like. The picture is made up of lots of images that John took from the Old Testament and from the culture in which he lived to try to give us the fullest description of Jesus that he can. Jesus speaks in a voice like a trumpet because when a ram’s horn trumpet was blown in the Temple, it meant that God was near. Priests in that time wore a long robe with a gold sash, just like Jesus is wearing in John’s picture. Jesus’ eyes are fire, like the fire of the Spirit, or the presence of God in the burning bush. His face is shining like the sun, shining like the face of Moses shone when he came down from Sinai from receiving the Law. The two-edged sword coming from his mouth is an image of power – the power of the word of God. And Jesus’ voice that sounds like many waters comes from the book of Ezekiel, where the appearance of God sounds like the rush of a mighty flood. If we know how to read it, the picture that John paints tells us that Jesus is Spirit-filled, law-giver, priest, the one who speaks the word of God with power, and even God himself. He is everything that we need regardless of where we find ourselves in life.

We hear very the same message when Jesus himself speaks. “I am the First and the Last,” we hear him say. “I am the Living One, the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. I am alive forever and ever, and I hold the keys of death.” How many different ways can Jesus say it? “I’ve got it covered! I’m the first and the last… the beginning and the end… the alpha and the omega. I’m the A to Z and everything in between.” Whether we’re at the beginning of our life, somewhere in the middle, or nearing the end, Jesus has our back. Even on our deathbed, Jesus is there. He not only is the Living One, he holds the keys of death.

That, my friends, is the very best news of all. There is nothing that Jesus is not; there is nowhere that Jesus is not; there is no time that Jesus is not. Let me say that another way. Jesus is all things, in all places, in all times. That’s how the author of Revelation begins the book; and that’s how he ends it, as well. He shows us that Jesus is the beginning and the end by putting him both at the beginning and at the end of the entire book.

There is nowhere that Jesus is not. When we’re having a rough day… Jesus is there. When we get bad news from the doctor… Jesus is there. When we struggle with illness… Jesus is there. When we bury those we love… Jesus is there. And when we take our last breath… Jesus will be there, too. The One who loves us… the One who knows us better than we know ourselves… the One who offers us eternal life… the One who died and rose again and is alive forever… that one is with us always, no matter what.

There can be no better news than that!

Finished and Begun

Do you ever feel just a little bit guilty that you're not as joyful on Easter as you are on Christmas? You're not the only one! My sermon considers the common tendency to get "stuck" on Good Friday and miss out on the joy of Easter. Maybe my thoughts will be familiar to you. And... Happy Easter! Christ is risen!

We have arrived at Easter, one of the two most joyous days in the entire year for Christians around the world. The other day, of course, is Christmas. We all know why Christmas is joyful. On that day, God came into our world as one of us. And Easter is joyful because on this day, Jesus lifted us up out of our world as children of God. Easter is the “bookend” to Christmas. One holiday isn’t complete without the other. They are both occasions of great joy!

So – if Easter calls for us to be just as joyful as we are at Christmas – why don’t we celebrate Easter more than we do? If you compare the way that we celebrate the two holidays, Easter really takes a back seat to Christmas festivities. Oh, Easter is certainly joyful. Folks wear their best clothes to church – and we did. The Christ candle is lighted again, in churches that do that kind of thing – and we did that. Worshippers sing “Christ the Lord Is Risen Today,” a song that is full of joyful alleluias – and we did that, too. But on Monday morning, the only reminder that Easter has taken place will be the Easter grass that has settled into the edge of the carpeting in the living room. And all the hard-boiled eggs in the fridge that we have to either use or throw out.

Have you ever thought about how little we celebrate Easter compared with Christmas? Christmas celebrations go on for months! Decorations are in the stores right after Halloween (if the stores wait even that long), radio stations begin to play Christmas carols 24-7 in early November, and holiday bargains are… well, everywhere! But Easter? It’s almost invisible. You might see a lily or two in the window of the local florist, but they aren’t hanging from the light fixtures in Wal-Mart. The Chipmunks haven’t recorded a version of “Because He Lives.” And I’ve never once seen a store offer an Empty Tomb sale! Although Easter is celebrates Christ’s victory over death itself, we just don’t get as excited about it as we do over Christmas. Why do you suppose that is?

I don’t know the answer for sure, but I have a suggestion. Could it be that Easter takes a back seat because we just can’t wrap our minds around Easter like we can around Christmas? After all, Christmas is full of images that we know well – images that we cherish. We all love newborn babies, with their chubby fists and their squished-up faces. We’re comfortable with farm animals in the stable. Even city slickers can relate to lambs and donkeys and brown cows. We can even imagine a bunch of smelly shepherds crowding around a manger in the middle of the night. But Easter doesn’t have any of that. We don’t know what to do with Easter! We’ve never experienced an empty tomb. We’ve never met an angel who proclaims that the dead is alive; and then asks why in the world we’re still standing in the graveyard. The Jesus that we know teaches and heals and comforts. He doesn’t appear unexpectedly in the middle of the room and walk through doors, as he does in the gospel stories of the resurrection. Easter is so foreign to us that when it rolls around each year, we do our best to celebrate; but while Christmas lives deep in our hearts, Easter stays in our heads. We know about it; but we just can’t relate to us.

That’s why I’m convinced that many people live their lives stuck in Lent. They never manage to make it past Good Friday. Even on Easter morning, they’re still hanging on to the old rugged cross that’s planted firmly on the hill of Golgotha. After all, that’s where their experience is. When most people wake up in the morning, they don’t open their eyes and think, “Alleluia! Christ is risen! Death and evil don’t have any power over me anymore! Because he lives, I will live, too!” No, they open their eyes and they worry about their aging parents; they face their own illnesses; or they mourn the loss of a loved one. They wonder how they will get the rent money; how they will put food on the table; and sometimes, how they will simply get through one more day. Those aren’t Easter thoughts. Those are Good Friday thoughts. During Lent, we look those experiences in the face and state confidently, “It may be Lent now; but Easter’s coming!” But all too often, we never quite make it to Easter; and we live our lives wishing for the resurrection that is ours already!

The reality is that it’s awfully hard for us to get Jesus down off that cross. We tend to be so focused on Jesus’ suffering that we never get to the triumph of his resurrection! We hear Jesus’ last words from the cross, “It is finished!” – and that’s where we stop, too. Because Jesus’ earthly life is over, we take his words to mean that the whole story is over! We’re like Mel Gibson, who ended his movie The Passion of the Christ with Jesus’ body being put into the tomb. That movie never got to Easter. But in the words of the famous radio personality Paul Harvey, there is a “page two.” And if we want to hear “the rest of the story,” we have to get to Easter morning.

After all, without Easter morning, Good Friday is meaningless. Without Easter, Jesus’ crucifixion is just an unjust execution; another example of corrupt authorities who intend to hold onto their power at all costs. Without Easter, Jesus’ crucifixion is just one more tragedy in a world that is full of them. Without Easter, Jesus suffers eternally, but never triumphs. Without Easter, the cross is merely a hideous symbol of human cruelty. But with Easter, it is the ultimate symbol of God’s amazing power, love, and grace. Easter is God’s eternal beginning that transforms all of the endings in our lives, no matter how cruel and unfair they may be. In Luke’s account of the Easter story, an angel asks the women who have come to the tomb, “Why are you looking for the living among the dead?” That angel is talking to us, too, you know. Why are we looking for the living among the dead? Why are we looking for the triumphant among the suffering? Why do we insist on staying in Good Friday?

Maybe it would help if we added some Easter symbols to the cross that hangs so prominently in most Christian churches. During my time with the children, I’ve told them that we have three symbols for God on our altar – the Bible (symbolizing the Word of God), the cross (symbolizing Jesus Christ), and the candles (symbolizing the Holy Spirit). What resurrection symbol could we add to these others? Well, we might add a few colorful butterflies. Butterflies are an ancient symbol of the resurrection. They start out their lives as caterpillars, humble little critters who creep around on the tomato plants. And then, they spin a cocoon and they appear to all the world to be dead. But they’re not. Just when we think that ugly old cocoon will stay that way forever, out of it comes… a butterfly! It’s not too much of a stretch to make the connection between the newly-born butterfly and the risen Christ. A few butterflies might remind us that the cross is not the end. Or we might give lilies a permanent place on the altar. Lilies grow from bulbs, just like all the flowers that are decorating the sanctuary today. A lily bulb appears to be dead. But when it’s buried in the garden, out come little green shoots that eventually bloom as a beautiful flower. Out of death comes life. We could even surround the cross with empty plastic Easter eggs, just like the one that I used this morning in my time with the children. There’s no candy in them. They’re empty – just like the empty tomb! Any of these symbols would remind us that we are Easter people in the end; and that Christ is risen indeed. After all, the resurrection is the foundation of our faith!

On this Easter morning, I invite you to leave Good Friday behind. Oh, don’t forget about it altogether. The cross is a vital symbol of our faith. But remember that the cross doesn’t get the last word! This morning, take a joyful, confident step into Easter. Jesus isn’t on the cross anymore! Let’s not go looking for the living among the dead. He is risen! And because he lives, so do we!

Trusting

My Palm Sunday sermon this year focuses on Jesus' courage as he rode into Jerusalem in defiance of both the Romans and the Temple authorities. I consider his statement from the cross, "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit" as representative of his entire life. If you choose to read it, perhaps it will remind you of a time in your life when you committed your own life into God's hands.

In my opinion, one of the bravest phrases in the English language is “…and let the chips fall where they may.” Believe it or not, that phrase has nothing to do with dropping potato chip crumbs into the sofa cushions. It actually originated in the world of logging. When you chop down a tree using an axe, pieces of wood – the chips – scatter every time you hit the tree. But while you are cutting, you don't really care where those chips land. Your job is to stay focused on the task at hand — chopping down the tree. The phrase has come to mean accepting the consequences of taking an action that other people aren’t going to like very much. People say “…and let the chips fall where they may” when they’re going to confront the boss, or write a stinging letter to the local newspaper about city council, or join a group that’s protesting the inflated profits of Wall Street banks. Whatever it is that they plan to do, someone is going to take offense at them; and they know it all too well.

No one in the Bible ever used the phrase “…and let the chips fall where they may.” It’s a fairly modern thing to say. But the spirit of that phrase is there, over and over again. When Queen Esther resolved to plead for the lives of her people, she said, “I will go to the king, though it is against the law; and if I die, I die.” Let the chips fall where they may. When Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego were threatened with being thrown into a fiery furnace unless they worshipped a golden idol, they replied, “…we will not serve your gods and we will not worship the golden statue that you have set up.” Let the chips fall where they may. And when Gabriel came to the Virgin Mary and told her that she was to be the mother of the messiah, although it involved an out-of-wedlock pregnancy and scandal for her family, what did she say? “Let it be with me according to your word.” Let the chips fall where they may!

Jesus word from the cross, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit,” is representative of his life that was lived by a man who had the very same philosophy of life. If he had known the phrase, “Let the chips fall where they may,” I’m convinced that he would have used it. Jesus knew that he would face opposition as he taught the people, reinterpreting the Law of Moses. He went nose to nose with the religious authorities again and again. He challenged their wealth and political power, and condemned the religious traditions that oppressed the very people they were supposed to care for. He called them a den of snakes, coiled and ready to bite anyone who stood in their way. He compared them to painted tombs – beautiful on the outside, but full of rot on the inside. He even accused them of locking people out of heaven with all their rules and regulations. As Jesus confronted the religious authorities with their behavior, chopping down the tree of religious corruption, he let the chips fall where they may. The only way he could have done that is by giving his life into God’s hands. He trusted that God would be present with him no matter what happened.

I wonder if he said, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit” on that first Palm Sunday morning. Surely he committed his life to God on that day, knowing that by the end of the week, the chips would fall in a very difficult place for him, indeed. Jesus’ ride into Jerusalem on that day was nothing less than a radical political statement. It was a breathtaking action that both offended the Jewish religious leaders and alarmed the Roman authorities. That first Palm Sunday took place at the beginning of Passover week, the most politically loaded time in the entire Jewish calendar. Passover celebrates the miraculous deliverance of the ancient Israelites from their Egyptian oppressors. Jewish tradition claimed that when the Messiah appeared – the one who would free them from their Roman oppressors – he would ride into Jerusalem by the east gate to the city, by the gate called Beautiful. Every Jew who knew the scriptures knew what to expect. The prophet Zechariah had written that the Messiah would arrive in Jerusalem “humble and riding on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” By riding into the city where and when and how he did, Jesus was claiming to be nothing less than the Messiah, the rightful king of the Jews. The only trouble was that the Roman emperor Caesar was the political king of the Jews; and he wasn’t about to allow any peasant from Galilee with a rag-tag bunch of followers to threaten his power. The Temple authorities knew what would happen when the Roman authorities got wind of Jesus’ action. He and all his followers – and quite possibly all the Jewish religious authorities – would be arrested and executed. And so, some of the Pharisees in the crowd told Jesus to keep his disciples quiet.  “Teacher, order your disciples to stop,” they said. But Jesus answered, “If these were silent, the stones would shout out.” His attitude is clear. “I have done what I have done. Let the chips fall where they may. Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.”

Now, you might be thinking that it is quite a relief that we aren’t in Jesus’ position here today. We don’t live under an oppressive Roman government . We practice our religion without any threat of arrest. We enjoy freedom of speech, and we can practice any religion that we like, as long as we don’t break any law while we’re doing it. We don’t have to worry about being persecuted for taking a stand. Do we? Unfortunately, if we are serious about following Jesus Christ, then sometimes we do. In every time and in every place, from Jesus’ time to ours, Christians have felt called to take unpopular stands, and to let the chips fall where they may.

All the way back in the time of the early Church, Peter was dragged before the Jewish high council and was told to quit preaching about Jesus. Peter said that he wasn’t about to stop preaching about Jesus; because he had to obey God rather than men. Father, into your hands I commit my spirit. In the year 1517, Martin Luther nailed 95 statements to the door of the church at Wittenberg, Germany – protests against Roman Catholic practices of his day. He was hauled into court, and was ordered to deny his beliefs and swear obedience to the Church, he famously replied, “Here I stand. I can do no other.” He might have added, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” In our own time, Martin Luther King, Jr. endured all kinds of abuse as a result of his stand on civil rights. It is said that one evening, he sat alone in his kitchen after his family had gone to bed for the night. He considered the abuse that both he and his family had suffered – fire-bombs, bullets through his windows, and death threats. Was it worth it? Should he give up his quest for civil rights for all Americans, both white and black? His decision wasn’t easy; but once he made it, he never backed down. He was chopping down the tree of discrimination, and he wasn’t about to stop! The chips would fall where they may. Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.

During the rise of the Third Reich prior to World War II, the German theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote, “Who stands firm? Only the one… whose life [is] nothing but an answer to God’s question and call.” In every time and place, God calls faithful Christians to make a choice between what is right and what is easy. It may concern something very small – a family member, for example, who insists on telling offensive ethnic jokes. Or it might concern something much bigger – the threat of arrest for offering aid and sanctuary to illegal immigrants. Whatever it is – whatever the issue, whatever the circumstances – Jesus calls us to stand firm on behalf of the Gospel, and to let the chips fall where they may.

On this Palm Sunday, Father, into your hands we commit our spirits.

Looking Towards Paradise

Today was the third Sunday in Lent; and my sermon considers Jesus' third word from the cross: "Today you will be with me in paradise." Is that kind of promise just pie in the sky bye and bye; or is it something far more profound? If you choose to read my sermon, I hope it helps you to think about that question.

This morning, we consider the third word of Jesus from the cross: “Today you will be with me in paradise.” Like last week’s word (“Father, forgive them; they don’t know what they’re doing.”), this statement seems to be one that only God can make. How could a human Jesus state with such confidence that something good is awaiting him as he is hanging on the cross, racked by pain and taunted by those who executed him? Isn’t God the only one who can say something like that with such certainty? Actually, this statement of Jesus is a word of hope; and hope is a gift of God to all Christians.

Hope wasn’t a very common thing in Jesus’ time. The Roman Empire was in charge of things; and the Roman Empire didn’t really care much for the welfare of the common people. The people in power were only concerned with staying in power; and the people who resisted the government were crushed like bugs. Floggings, crucifixions, beheading… they were all common sights in Jesus’ day. No one had much hope that anything would ever get better. It’s not that different from today, is it? Oh, we may not see executions in the public square; but many people have precious little hope these days, either. Wherever we turn, the future is pictured as nothing but doom and gloom. The budget sequesters that have now gone into effect are predicted to turn our economy back on itself, and plunge millions of people into unemployment. Global warming is wreaking havoc with the climate worldwide, and may very well lead to the extinction of many types of animals. And if we manage to avert global warming, we still have the problem of overpopulation. All kinds of dire consequences are predicted from that – wars, famines, diseases, and death. Yes, many people look for those four horsemen of the apocalypse to ride out any day now! How we need the hope that Jesus offered when he said, “Today you will be with me in paradise.” Jesus uttered that courageous statement in the midst of a situation that should have led him to despair. But his words reflect a certainty that hate and oppression and suffering and even death don’t have the last word. God’s love has the last word. The end is not disaster, but renewal.

Now, there’s plenty of wishful thinking around today that masquerades as hope. We hear it all the time. “I hope that the weather will be nice tomorrow.” “I hope that I lose some weight so I can fit into this dress again.” “I hope that I win the lottery.” Those statements may use the word “hope,” but when we take their masks off, they aren’t really about hope at all. They’re just wishes that we make in the middle of bad situations. Hope is something very different. Hope isn’t a wish; it’s a certainty that God’s love, wisdom, and power will transform any situation into something good, even if we don’t see any evidence of it right now! Hope doesn’t deny that things are bad; but hope believes that the good will arrive someday. In the middle of the night, hope bravely declares, “This will not last forever. Even though I may never see the light, I believe that in the end, the darkness will be conquered.”

One of my favorite descriptions of hope is this poem that was written by the great American poet Emily Dickinson:

Hope is the thing with feathers

that perches in the soul
and sings the tune without the words,
and never stops at all.

Hope is like the little birds that come to my feeder in all kinds of weather. Sun, rain, or snow, little feathered bits of hope arrive every day to gobble up sunflower seeds or peanuts and to peck at cakes of suet. I am always amazed that, even in the most dreadful weather, they sing their songs. Oh, on some days those songs are very quiet. They don’t sing very much when the weather is bad. But they do sing; just as we have hope in both good times and in bad.

Hope is the thing with feathers

that perches in the soul
and sings the tune without the words,
and never stops at all.

 Just like the presence of God, hope stays with us no matter what the circumstances of our lives may be. And did you notice that the hope Jesus offered from the cross wasn’t just his own personal hope? No, his statement took the thief right along with him. Jesus could have declared, “I’m not worried! I know that I’m going to heaven when all this is over!” Instead, though, he included someone else. “Today you will be with me in paradise.” Christian hope reaches beyond itself to include all the folks around it who have no hope of their own! In a world that is often hopeless, we Christians can offer hope to others.

Now, sometimes, when we offer our hope to others, they ask, “How can you possibly have hope? Look around! Do you see any evidence at all that things are going to get better?” And in many cases, if we’re honest with ourselves, the answer to that question is “no.” Many situations in our world are very dark with no light to be seen anywhere, not even at the end of the tunnel. But that’s why hope is hope. Hope is the result of a faith that declares that God can and will redeem any situation, no matter how bad things may be. And there’s no way to prove that. No scientist can find God’s love in a test tube or in a Petri dish or under a microscope. We need faith to believe it. But if we do believe it, then we need not lose hope, not in any situation that we may encounter.

People who have hope are like the little boy who always found an opportunity for good, no matter what happened to him. When the weather was rainy, he reminded his family that the rain helps the flowers to grow. When he got a low grade on a test, he declared that his mistakes helped him know what to study so that he could improve. When a fellow classmate was rude to him, he said that the experience helped him to learn patience. His neighbor was not nearly as cheerful. He was a grumpy man who was annoyed by the child’s unfailing optimism. “That kid needs to grow up,” he declared one day. “I’ll show him that not everything in life is rosy.” So he ordered a huge pile of horse manure one day, and he had it dumped right in the middle of a vacant lot where the boy often played with his friends. When the child came home from school that day, his neighbor called to him. “Hey, I’ve got a present for you!” Leading him to the vacant lot, he showed him the enormous manure pile and said, “Here – this is all for you!” Without hesitation, the boy ran to the pile of manure and began to dig into it gleefully. The neighbor was astonished. “What in the world are you doing?” he demanded. The boy looked up with a huge smile, and answered, “Well, with a pile of manure this big, I know there must be a pony in here somewhere!”

Hope expects to find a pony some day. Hope believes that the sun will rise no matter how dark the night has been. Hope refuses to surrender to despair. Hope believes that God will redeem everything in his own time; if not in this life, then in the next. And when we hope, we are like Jesus in the certainty that God is sovereign.

“Today, you will be with me in paradise.” It’s the hope that Jesus offered to the thief on the cross.

“Today, you will be with me in paradise.” It’s the hope that we can offer to a world that has fallen into despair.
“Today, you will be with me in paradise.” It’s the hope that God offers to us, too, because of a cross and an empty tomb.

Forgiving

I preached this sermon on the second Sunday of Lent. The subject is forgiveness -- not Jesus' forgiveness of us, but our forgiveness of others. We all have a terrible time forgiving people who have hurt us. Maybe my sermon will help you understand why it's so important.

This morning, we continue our consideration of Jesus’ last words from the cross. Specifically, we continue to look at how those words reflect the human Jesus. For some words, that’s easier than for others When we considered his word of abandonment last week (“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”), it wasn’t hard to understand how a human Jesus could say such a thing. After all, we have all asked God that very same question during our own lives. But Jesus’ word of forgiveness from the cross is another story completely.

“Father, forgive them; they don’t know what they’re doing.” (Luke 23:34) Even while Jesus hung dying on the cross, he prayed that God might forgive the people who were killing him. That couldn’t have been an easy thing for him to pray. After all, remember what he had experienced. After Jesus was arrested in Gethsemane, he was taken before an illegal court session on a trumped-up charge. He was convicted on false evidence offered by liars. After being handed over to the Roman authorities, he was beaten and ridiculed. He was crowned with a circle of thorns, and forced to carry his own cross to the place of execution. Nails were driven through his hands and feet, and he was left to die suspended on a wooden crosspiece in the hot sun. What human being could possibly pray for the people who did all those things? It tempts us to believe that this prayer must be from a divine Jesus who loves with God’s infinite love. After all, his forgiveness includes everyone involved in his death – not just the Roman soldiers who nailed him to the cross, but also the Jewish council who handed him over to Pilate, Judas who handed him over to the Jewish council, and the disciples who ran away when the going got tough. It seems to us that only God could offer that kind of forgiveness.

But in fact, Jesus wanted us to do the very same thing. He talked more than once about the importance of forgiveness. If someone wrongs you, Jesus told Peter, forgive that person even more than seven times. Forgive them seventy-seven times. (Matthew 18:22) Forgive that person so many times that you lose count! And do you remember Matthew’s parable of the unforgiving servant (18:23-35)? He refused to forgive a fellow servant a tiny debt even though his master has just forgiven an enormous debt that he owed himself. He was condemned for his callous actions. “Forgive,” says Jesus (Luke 6:37) “and you will be forgiven.” Forgiveness isn’t only something that God does. Jesus expects us to do it, too.

But forgiveness is a very hard thing to offer. It’s a lot easier to dwell on the hurts that we have suffered than to accept what happened and move on. The trouble is that if we don’t offer forgiveness, we become trapped in a spider’s web of anger, resentment, and hate. We might even start to think about revenge in the name of justice. We don’t see the people who hurt us getting their just desserts, so instead of trusting that God will deal with the situation in God’s time and in God’s wisdom, we decide to take matters into our own hands. And in the process, we only hurt ourselves. Revenge is a dish that always comes back to poison the one who serves it. But hate is so easy. Revenge appears to be so sweet, and forgiveness is so difficult. Sometimes it even seems to be impossible. How could we possibly forgive someone who intentionally hurt one of us or one of our loved ones?  Surely no one could do that!

But, in fact, we’ve seen that kind of forgiveness not that long ago. Back in October of 2006, a deranged gunman entered an Amish schoolhouse in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. He shot ten young girls in the back of the head before committing suicide. The response of the bereaved parents was almost unbelievable. Instead of calling for revenge, the Amish community chose to forgive. The grandfather of one of the victims insisted, “We must not think evil of this man,” while one of the fathers reminded us, “He had a mother and a wife and a soul, and now he’s standing before a just God.” When the media asked for an explanation of their reaction, one of their members said, "I don't think there's anybody here that wants to do anything but forgive; and not only reach out to those who have suffered a loss in that way, but to reach out to the family of the man who committed these acts." And that’s exactly what they did. Amish community members comforted the shooter’s wife, parents, and parents-in-law. One Amish man reportedly held the shooter’s father for over an hour while he wept uncontrollably. 30 of the Amish community attended the funeral of the shooter; and they set up a charitable fund to benefit his family. In an open letter to her Amish neighbors, the shooter’s wife thanked them for their forgiveness, grace, and mercy. She wrote, "Your love for our family has helped to provide the healing we so desperately need. Gifts you've given have touched our hearts in a way no words can describe. Your compassion has reached beyond our family, beyond our community, and is changing our world, and for this we sincerely thank you." “Love your enemies,” said Jesus, “and pray for those who abuse you.” (Luke 6:27-28) That’s what the bereaved Amish community did; and they set an example of forgiveness for all of us.

In his word from the cross, Jesus not only set a model for our own forgiveness; he even gave us a reason that we should forgive others. “Father, forgive them; because they don’t know what they’re doing.” That deranged man who shot Amish children in cold blood probably didn’t know what he was doing. He wasn’t thinking rationally. And although we may not be mentally ill, we don’t know what we’re doing most of the time, either. Usually it’s not a big thing, and we don’t even realize what we’ve done. When a new mother brags about her baby to a young couple, she may not know that they are struggling with infertility issues. She doesn’t see them weeping together in the night because the child that they want so desperately can’t be conceived. They are deeply hurt; and the one who caused them so much pain never even knew it. No, we don’t know what we’re doing. So if we expect people to forgive us for the hurtful things that we do to them, then we have to forgive them for all the hurtful things that they do to us.

In the end, forgiveness is our response to the realization that we are all imperfect human beings who live in an imperfect world. We don’t know everything. And so, with the best of intentions, we do things that are hurtful instead of helpful. We give in to temptations so easily. Because we want power and status, we step on people who are in our way. And because we’re often busy or rushed or just plain lazy, we don’t take the actions that we should. While we strive to get what we want, we neglect people who don’t even have what they need.

“Father, forgive them; because they don’t know what they’re doing.” Jesus has forgiven us so often! Maybe during this season of Lent, we could so some forgiving ourselves.