We're Moving

Due to a jillion-and-a-half reasons, I'm shutting this blog down.

With it's death, two things will happen:

1) My sermons are all going to be in audio (mp3) format here: www.frostburg.ang-md.org/sermon.htm

2) In the near future there will emerge another blog to replace this one: this time with lectionary reflections, resources, and sermon-ish stuff: this time a week in advance!

God's Peace!

Beyond Birth

Let me tell you about my relationship with my mother.

On July 29, 1974 she gave birth to me at Wilmington General Hospital, in Wilmington, Delaware.

And, well, that’s my story (and I’m stickin’ to it!).

Now, what did that tell you about my relationship with my mother? Not much, huh? Except that she is indeed my mother, and she gave birth to me almost 32 years ago.

But, that ‘story’ could diverge in a million different directions from there. The story which begins in a Hospital in Delaware could have continued on with, “and she gave me up for adoption, and I’ve never met her.” Or, “She’s been beside me every step of the way, and has been my biggest supporter and best friend.” Or, “when I was 20 we got into a fight and are not estranged from each other.”

The story of my birth doesn’t say anything about how good of a mother she is or how good of a son I am.

Does that make my birth unimportant? Well, no. Without that day in Wilmington General, I wouldn’t be here. And every year since we’ve celebrated that moment with cake, ice cream and presents.

It was a beginning. An important beginning – but it says nothing about how good, bad, deep, meaningful, or not my relationship with my mother is today.

Nicodemas, a probably good intentioned Pharisee, came to Jesus – at night. (Which tells you how dangerous it would have been for Nicodemas if he had been seen with Jesus.) He flatters Jesus and tells him how great he thinks he is.

Jesus doesn’t have the time of day for that kind of talk.

“Very truly I tell you, no one can see the Kingdom of God without being born again.”

In their subsequent conversation, Nicodemas has a hard time understanding what Jesus was talking about (Born again? How does that happen?) – and really can you blame Nicodemas? Born again? How DOES that happen?

First of all, let me let you in on a little biblical secret: “born again” may not be what Jesus meant to say.

The biblical word used here for ‘again’ doesn’t just mean ‘again.’ It also means ‘from above.’ This word (anothen) shows up in the Gospel of John three other times, and each time it so obviously means ‘from above’ and not ‘again.’

Personally, I believe that this argument is settled once and for all at the end of chapter 3, when John the Baptist says of Jesus: “The one who comes from above is above all; the one who is from the earth belongs to the earth, and speaks as one from the earth. The one who comes from heaven is above all.”

What Jesus is therefore saying to Nicodemas, is that to become a member of the Kingdom of Heaven you must come from above – your earthly birthday is good, but it’s only a start. You must come from above as Christ has come from above. And this can’t happen on our own (we can’t just spring out of Heaven at our own will), it must be an act of the grace of God.

Here’s the kicker: even this (second) birth (this time, from above) is just a beginning. If Nicodemas got it – if he figured it out – if he was born again from above. . . and that was it. . .he’d have totally missed the point.

Being born from God is great, but if all you can tell me is that you’ve been born, you haven’t told me anything of substance of your relationship with God. Great, you’ve been born, but are you still walking with God? Are you still calling home (prayer)? Are you growing in faith, and love, and forgiveness?

You know, Zoë is doing pretty good. She went to the doctor this week for her two year examination, and the doctor said: she’s developmentally at the level of a three year old. (Can’t you just hear the proud parent in me beaming!)

But, as good as she’s doing – as much as she’s grown, if she just stops there, and she doesn’t progress any further, would that be good? If at 40 years old she was still only putting together 4 and 5 word sentences, was still infatuated with Cinderella, and was still regularly (and publicly) picking her nose and pooping her pants – I’d be worrying a little bit.

Why then do we think that our lives with God should be static? I hear it all the time: being pastor of two old and historic churches, I hear at least once a week from some proud soul, “I was baptized in that church.” They say it with pride – like I should be impressed. And that’s great. But, what have you and God been up to lately?

I hear it all the time. From some proud soul, “I walked up to the stage at the Billy Graham crusade in 1955, and gave myself to the Lord.” Fantastic. But, what have you and God been up to lately?

Dedicating our lives to Christ is right on target. Having life-changing moments of the Presence of God and altering the shape of our lives because of it is good. Coming and being baptized is great. But, if forty years after those moments we’re still at the spiritual equivalent of picking our noses and pooping our pants we’re in trouble.

At that point it would be difficult to say that we really have dedicated our lives – our entire lives – to Christ. It would be difficult to say that the baptism has any more significance than a high school graduation.

Now, don’t think that I’m preaching the Gospel of ‘more.’ There are times when I hear other preachers (and, to be honest times when I hear myself say) that what we need is to do more. We need to pray more. We need to read the Bible more. If we just did more ‘Jesus stuff’ we’d be fine.

When I hear talk like that I get exhausted. I get discouraged, and I just want to go and take a nap. What’s the bother? My life is busy as it is, and I don’t have time for ‘more, more, more.’

What I’m saying though is that we need to at least be on the path. We have to at least be intentional. When I think about my relationship with my mother I don’t think in terms of more, more, more. I want to call her every couple of days or so. I want to get her a nice Mother’s Day gift. I want to let her in on our joys and our anxieties.

Being born again, from above, is the beginning of our eternal life. It’s not just about Heaven, it’s about right now. We’re born of Heaven here on earth – eternal life with God starts now. And the life of a person who is born again, from above, is a life that seeks God’s face, asks questions of God and about God, and tries to align itself with the will and desire of God – so that God’s desires could one day be our desires.

And, it’s a life-long/ eternal journey. We never get there. We never get the answers to all the questions. We never fully figure God out. We can get glimpses. We can step into moments where we feel so close to God we could just explode with joy. But we never quite get there.

Take the Trinity for example. (Today is Trinity Sunday after all) How is God three and one at the same time? Is it like water: solid, liquid, gas? No, not quite. Is it like a pretzel: three loops, but one pretzel at the same time? No, not quite.

The mystery of the Trinity is just that – a mystery. It’s True, but we’re unable to comprehend it. But, we can grow into fuller understanding. We can get close. We can get closer to God where we can understand more and more – of course realizing that the more we know, the more we’ll know that we know very little!

But, we grow. Beyond spiritual nose-picking. Beyond date and hospital. We grow as people born of God – born a second time, from above – growing citizens of the Kingdom of Heaven. People on the journey. A journey where the destination is given to us, but the journey continues on past the horizon.

The Not-So-Good-News About Judas

In prayer, Jesus confirms to His Father ‘Not one of them was lost except the one destined to be lost’

Unfortunately, it’s a bad translation.

Jesus doesn’t call him ‘the one destined to be lost,’ but rather the Greek literally reads ‘the son of perdition’ – or in more modern English – ‘the son of Hell,’ or the ‘son of eternal damnation.’

Who’s he talking about? Who was the ‘son of Hell?’

Judas.

He’s the one the Gospels tell us sold out Jesus to the religious authorities for payment of silver coins. The Gospels identify Judas over and over again as the ‘betrayer.’ There are some hints in the Gospel of Matthew that Judas’ motivation for his betrayal might have been the payment he would receive – he was doing it for the money. But, beyond that, we really don’t know why he did what he did.

Scholars and preachers over the centuries have spread the gamut on Judas: on one side condemning him as one of the most evil men in human history, and on the other side explaining away his actions as being necessary for salvation history to have played out – in other words if Judas didn’t do what he did, Jesus wouldn’t have died for our sins, and we’d all be in big trouble.

From the time since I was in High School, I have been overtaken with the 70’s Broadway musical, Jesus Christ Superstar. In that show Judas is portrayed as a conflicted man, who betrayed Jesus all the while thinking that he was doing the righteous thing. After the arrest of Jesus, Judas is beside himself with regret, realizing the horrible mistake he’s made: he even tried to give back the money he was ‘paid’ – money which he didn’t want from the beginning.

I remember going to my youth pastor at church with my newfound revelation about Judas: he wasn’t such a bad guy after all – and I remember that my youth pastor wasn’t too impressed. According to my pastor, Judas wasn’t misunderstood; he was a man who committed an awful, ultimate sin.

He may have been right.

After all, Jesus said to Judas in the Gospels of Matthew and Mark, long before he actually betrayed him, that it would have been better for Judas if he hadn’t been born.

This is a man who knew Jesus intimately. He would have enjoyed the same close friendship and mentoring relationship that the rest of the disciples had with Jesus. He would have witnessed incredible miracles, huge crowds, and glimpses of the Kingdom of God breaking out on earth. And yet, it was he – an insider – someone who Jesus loved – who turned his back on Jesus, and handed him over to be beaten, tortured, and horrifically executed.

Could this have been the actions of a man who thought he was doing the right thing?

On the other hand, Judas is described clearly in Luke as being possessed by the devil. Satan entered into him, and drove him to his actions against Jesus. – Could Judas really be responsible for the actions of Satan dwelling within him? If he was just a vessel for the powers of Hell, wasn’t he a victim too? Maybe just as much of a victim as Jesus – after all he died a horrible death too.

Of course, we’ve all heard of the ‘Gospel of Judas’ over the past several months. This ‘Gospel’ is a third century manuscript written by a ‘Christian’ sect about Judas. It’s written as if it was written by Judas himself, but there isn’t a scholar on earth who’d say that Judas wrote it. While the copy that was recently discovered was written almost 300 years after the life of Jesus, it is just a copy of an earlier manuscript written no later than 180AD. We don’t have that original copy (we actually don’t have any original copies of any of the books of the Bible though either), but we know that a ‘Gospel of Judas’ was circulating around the year 180, because a bishop in the Church (Irenaeus) condemned it by name.

The real scholarly debate over the ‘Gospel of Judas’ isn’t over whether it’s an ancient Christian writing (because it clearly is). The debate isn’t over whether Judas actually wrote it (because he clearly didn’t – after all how could he if he was dead?). And the debate isn’t over whether or not this book should be included in the Bible (because it clearly shouldn’t be – there were tons of things written in those days about Jesus, and not everything belongs as scripture, says the Church – even bishop Irenaeus).

The debate is over whether or not we can learn anything about the actual Judas in this book, and therefore whether we can learn anything about his relationship with Jesus and the events which transpired around his betrayal and crucifixion.

The ‘Gospel of Judas’ is so explosive because it contains a passage which indicates that Jesus asked Judas to betray him, and told him that he would be hated forever because of his necessary and requested betrayal.

So, does this gospel say anything real about what actually happened between Judas and Jesus? I suppose that’s the question scholars, fanatics, and conspiracy theorists will argue over for a while to come.

I’m pretty certain – in fact I’m thoroughly certain – that it doesn’t say anything about the real Judas, Jesus, and the betrayal.

But, what I do think it says is that ancient Christians were just as confused as to whether Judas was a good guy who was just misunderstood, or whether he was evil incarnate. This ‘Gospel of Judas’ was one author’s attempt at trying to make Judas out to be a good guy – but it doesn’t make him right.

So – who was this ‘Son of Perdition?’ Was he a son of Hell by his own actions, or was he hijacked by the powers of Hell, and therefore not responsible for his actions.

In other words: Did the Devil make him do it? Did his own sinfulness make him do it? Or (as in the Gospel of Judas) did Jesus make him do it?

Honestly, I don’t know. It depends on the day. Sometimes I think he was a bad, bad man who stabbed his best friend in the back in his moment of need, and other times I rock along to Jesus Christ Superstar and think that maybe it was all a mistake – or a setup.

But, here’s the thing: I don’t think the answer to these questions really effects us either way. The fact is that Jesus was betrayed, he was crucified for our sins, and he did rise again on the third day.

But, here’s the other thing: I think all the hoopla about Judas misses the point. Because the sins of Judas just about him – they’re about us too. He way have been the ‘Son of Perdition,’ but there are times that we’re not so hot ourselves.

He is condemned because he betrayed Christ, but doesn’t our sin betray Christ too? When we turn away from the life, decisions, and manner of living that Christ would have us live – even after all he’s done for us – don’t we turn away from Christ too?

We may no sell Christ up the river over 30 pieces of silver – but we may do it for pleasure, revenge, indulgence, or for personal gain.

The Cursillo community uses as its symbol the rooster. Usually, the rooster is flamboyantly colorful. The rooster symbolizes the cock which crowed when Peter denied Christ. The bold colors remind us of the boldness of the sin of denying Christ. And we take it as our symbol realizing full well that we’re pretty bold sinners too, that we repeatedly deny Christ in our manner of living – and isn’t the denial of Christ just a hair’s breadth away from betrayal.

When Jesus speaks of Judas, he speaks of us too. We’re sinners. Sometimes bold sinners. Sometimes we sin, thinking we’re doing the right thing. Sometimes we sin after being setup. Sometimes we just make bad decisions.

That’s what Judas can teach us, and remind us: he’s a mirror to the side of our own darkness, and the reason for our need of God’s goodness, grace, forgiveness, and mercy.

Him, You, and just us

(The Rev. John Jorgensen is preaching at St. John's this week, but this is Fr. Rick's sermon from St. Peter's, Lonaconing)

What is prayer? Really, what is it?

I suppose that most people would say that it is us talking to God – it’s the words that we say to God – our communication with God.

If that’s what you’d say, then I’d say that you’re half-right! There is another side to it – and it’s certainly the most important side: It’s God’s words to us too. To think that prayer is just our words to God means that we’re leading a one-way conversation with the Almighty, which is not a good idea.

But, certainly ‘our’ prayers – the part that we’re responsible to make time for and to take the initiative on, are the words, thoughts, and images that we offer to God.

To God: that’s the important part. When you talk to someone, think of the language that you use. If I’m talking to Elaine, I don’t say things like, “Elaine is my friend. She is a member of St. Peter’s. I enjoy her when she’s around.” If I did, she’d think I was crazy! If I’m talking to Elaine I’d say something more like: “Elaine, you are my friend, and I’m so glad that you’re a member of St. Peter’s, and that you’re around often.” I’d use ‘you’ language, not ‘she’ language. I’d use ‘she’ language only if I was talking about her to someone else – right?

Classically, we think of hymns as prayers set to song. But, are they? Or, are they all?

There are actually two kinds of hymns: there are hymns and songs which are indeed prayers to God, and there are hymns and songs which are about God, the faith, and the Church.

Think of the difference between “O Come, O Come Emmanuel,” and “Joy to the World.” One is directly addressed to God, and the other is about the ‘glory of HIS righteousness, and wonders of his love.’

Most of the really ancient songs and hymns of the church (and I’m not talking about the 1800’s!), were really musical settings of prayers to God. When church services became more ‘evangelical’ in nature – when their chief aim became to convince people of something or to convert them to the faith – the hymns the church began writing changed. A lot of what we know as the ‘great’ ‘old’ hymns of the faith usually fit in this category: “Amazing Grace,” “There is pow’r in the Blood,” “The Old Rugged Cross,” “I love to tell the Story.” There are exceptions of course, like “Great is Thy Faithfulness,” “How Great Thou Art.”

I’m not trying to say that there isn’t a place for the other hymns – the ones about God – but I think it’s important to be aware of it. It’s good to talk about God – it’s good to talk about God to each other, and to people who don’t know God yet. But, it’s far more important to talk to God, to listen to God, and to direct our lives to God and not just about God.

[I get nervous, and leave unfulfilled when I go to other churches where there are really long sermons which dominate over half the service, and 3-5 hymns about God. What you get is something that dangerously get close to being a class about God instead of actually worshipping the Creator and Savior and fostering and deepening that relationship.]

Which brings us to the 23rd Psalm, that familiar and comfortable piece of scripture that has carried countless people through difficult times, death, and moments of fear: The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside still waters, he restores my soul.

What do you notice about those few opening lines? – Yeah, it’s a psalm about God, not a psalm directed to God!

Which seems a little awkward doesn’t it, when you think of the psalms being the book of Israel’s prayers – the ancient hymnbook used in the Temple and in the synagogue for thousands and thousands of years.

And here’s the really mind-blowing thing about this psalm; listen to the next few verses: Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff comfort me. Thou shalt prepare a table before me in the presence of them that trouble me; thou hast anointed my head with oil, and my cup shall be full. Surely thy loving-kindness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.

What happens? The psalmist switches – mid psalm – from talking about God, to talking to God!

Here’s what excites me about this psalm – here’s what I think this psalm challenges us about prayer:

1) Note what the psalmist asks for. . . what does he ask for? Nothing! Which really shouldn’t surprise us, since the second line is: “I shall not want.” If you don’t want for anything, if you don’t need anything, then why would you need to ask God for something?! What does he give thanks for? Nothing! What does he offer to do for God? Nothing! In the 23rd Psalm, the psalmist is telling God, reminding God, what God already does for him – and it’s prayer.

2) Note what this psalmist has known in life: he’s gone through the valley of the shadow of death, he’s been put in situations where he’s in close proximity to those who don’t like him and who may want to do him harm, and he’s experienced evil. He’s upfront with the fact that he doesn’t need to fear any of those things, but he’s also clear that his life hasn’t been peachy-keen. He realizes that the promise of God isn’t that God is going to keep us away from trouble, but the promise is that WHEN we go through trouble that God will be right there with us.

3) The psalmist switches back and forth between talking about God, and talking to God. (In fact you could reasonably argue that the psalmist goes full-circle in the last verse: I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever – instead of I will dwell in YOUR hose forever.) I think what we can be reminded of here, is that in the community of the faithful, we can, and should do both. And when we talk about God, we don’t have talk about Him in a detached and scientific way, but we can bring Him in on the conversation to help us talk about Him more faithfully. If we only talked ABOUT God, we’d miss out on our relationship WITH God. To talk only with God, we’d miss out the relationships with others, with our neighbors, with those who are not yet part of the fellowship of God, and the rest of the Creation which God has given us to enjoy Him in too.

Though, through it all, the 23rd Psalm stands as a icon of prayer, an icon of the abiding Presence of God, and our joyful need to reach out to that Presence, and reach out with that Presence.

Bumbling, Terrified, and Sent by God

The women had seen the empty tomb, and (in Luke) they had run to tell the disciples of their discovery. The two disciples on the road to Emmaus had seen the resurrected Jesus, and they ran back to tell the disciples. Then Jesus himself comes and stands in the midst of them.

Jesus had foretold his death and resurrection several times in his life and ministry. Now, what he had said to them – and what had been written in the scriptures about him – was coming to fruition. And they were getting news about his resurrection from several sources.

So how did the disciples react when Jesus comes to stand in the midst of them?

They’re so excited they can hardly contain themselves? No.

As giants of faith, they rest happily, showing their confidence that they knew this would happen all along? No.

Here are the words that Luke uses to describe the disciples: startled, terrified, doubt[ing], frightened, in joy, disbelieving, and still wondering. Besides the quick mention of “joy” there, the faith of the disciples seems a little bleak, doesn’t it?

The really scary thing, is that these are the people who God was counting on to tell the world about Jesus, salvation, repentance, and the forgiveness of sins.

THE SALVATION OF THE WORLD – THE REDEMPTION OFALL HUMANKIND – rested upon these cowering men, hiding in the upper room, scared out of their wits, and unsure about everything.

What exactly were they scared of? I mean, at first glace, everything seems to be pretty normal: Jesus is among them, opening scripture, eating with them, and proclaiming peace, hope, and God’s power. Sounds like any other day that Jesus was with his disciples, doesn’t it?

But, while nothing has changed, everything has changed: Jesus had died. He was dead and buried. The government had executed him. And here he was standing in the room with them – and just in case they thought it was all a dream or he was a figure of their imagination: he had the wounds to prove that it had indeed happened.

If Jesus was just dead and gone, the disciples and the other followers of Jesus would have mourned deeply for a couple of days – maybe even a couple of weeks. But, gradually they would have come to a place of peace and contentment. They would have gone on with their lives, and would have had great stories to remember him by.

But, now that he’s come back from the dead, the whole world has been changed – and they have major work to do.

Listen to what Jesus has to say about himself and the scriptures foretelling his life, death, and resurrection: Thus it is written, that the Messiah is to suffer and to rise from the dead on the third day, and that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things.

The suffering and rising from the dead on the third day – that was Jesus’ job, and it was done.

The proclamation of repentance leading to the forgiveness of sins in Jesus’ name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem – whose job was that? It was theirs. They were in Jerusalem, and their job description had just gotten a little more added to it.

I suppose my knees would be knocking too.

The disciples had come to the realization that while some things were the same as they had always been (the sun was still going to rise in the east, winter was still going to follow fall, and gravity was still going to pull apples to the ground when dropped from above) everything was now different, and would never be the same: There was no mistaking, Jesus WAS indeed the Messiah, he was in fact resurrected from the dead, and they were indeed being sent forth into the world on the most foreboding, dangerous, and impossible job ever given to a human being: proclaiming the Gospel to every corner of the world.

Here’s a few things to notice in this text:

First, Luke makes it very clear that the Resurrection actually happened, and that it was a physical resurrection. His ‘spirit’ didn’t just rise. His body didn’t just go missing. He was raised to life again by the Power of God, and he appeared with flesh and bone, with the wounds of a crucifixion, and with an appetite. Luke doesn’t add the fact that he ate the fish in the presence of the disciples for nothing: he was trying to tell us that since ghosts and spirits don’t eat, Jesus wasn’t a ghost or a spirit.

And yet, at the same time, Jesus’ Presence is different: the disciples walking with him on the road to Emmaus didn’t recognize him, Mary mistook him for the gardener at the tomb, and at the Upper Room he could appear instantly in the room even though the doors and the windows were locked.

Yet one more way to see that everything was the same as it had been before, and yet everything was completely different.

Second, an interesting note with powerful implications: Jesus interprets the scriptures to say that he had to rise from the dead, and that those who came after him had a mission. What was the mission? To proclaim repentance leading to the forgiveness of sins. Realize what it doesn’t say here: the mission of the followers of Jesus isn’t to tell people to be good, to sin less, or to commit lesser sins if they must sin at all: the mission of the followers of Jesus is to tell sinners that there is redemption and hope, forgiveness and a way out that begins with repentance.

Unfortunately, the mission of the followers of Jesus has been warped throughout the centuries to become the morality police. And that’s all well and fine – but it’s not the job that Jesus gave his followers: Our job is to proclaim the Good News of the forgiveness of sins, not the illusion that somehow if we’re good enough we can overcome sin by our own efforts. The Good News of the Gospel of Jesus is that even though we’re sinners, God still loves us, counts us worthy to be his children, and counts us worthy enough to send his son to die for our sins, and destroy the power of sin and death by his Resurrection.

Which brings us to the third interesting thing to notice. Actually, it’s not all that interesting – in fact it should make us downright startled, terrified, doubt[ful], frightened, disbelieving, and still wondering – even if a little joyful too: when Jesus gave them their mission, it wasn’t just THEIR mission. It’s ours too. WE are to proclaim repentance for the forgiveness of sins in Jesus’ name to all nations. The mission began in Jerusalem, it continues in Lonaconing, Gilmore, Cumberland, Fort Ashby, Frostburg, and everywhere people claim Jesus as Lord.

Most churches today don’t get to the point where this mission scares them. When most Christians hear the mission we’re given following the Resurrection of Jesus, they aren’t terrified or frightened; they’re bored. I see most churches glaze over and begin thinking of what’s for breakfast when confronted with the demands of discipleship and apostleship.

But, when we cease being people of mission, we cease being the church. When we become preoccupied with the busy-ness of our lives, or the busy-ness of churchy stuff, or the busy-ness of being the morality police we stop being the Church of Christ and we start being a country club. Country clubs are fine, but they don’t give you access to the Kingdom of God no matter how high the greens fees.

Here’s what gives me hope though: if Jesus counted on those poor little frightened men cowering in the upper room, surely he can count on me. And you.

If they could move beyond their fear, and begin the mission of spreading God’s promise of the forgiveness of sins, hope, love, and redemption, then so can I.

I think the Gospel writers kept in all those references to fear and trembling in the first followers of Jesus to keep us from thinking they were stained glass giants of faith. They were just as bumbling and troublesome as the rest of us, and God called them – so why wouldn’t God call us.

Here’s the other thing that gives me hope: There is forgiveness in Jesus’ name through repentance, through the cross, and through the empty tomb. Each time I fail to be a disciple, each time I fail to be an apostle, each time I fail to be a nice person, God not only gives me another chance, but He gives me another hundred chances.

There is always hope, there is always God’s love, and because of that there should always be voices to remind the world of that, in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Easter Day: Out-Of-Control

The women went to the tomb on the morning of the third day.

His body had been quickly buried, and on Saturday – the Sabbath – everyone rested and mourned.

And then, with the rising of the sun the women went to make the final burial arrangements: clean the body, anoint the body with fragrances, seal the tomb.

But, when they get there, the tomb is already open – huh?

And when they look into the tomb, they see someone, but it’s not Jesus – hmm?

And this fellow looks eerily like an angel. . .

He tells them not to be afraid (as angels always say), and that Jesus has risen from the dead. He tells them to run and tell the others, and let them know that he will meet up with them in Galilee.

So. . . the women – so excited that their Lord and Master has risen – that everything he had said would happen has come true – that there is no need to mourn, but rather it’s time to celebrate. . . so the women run out and tell everyone they know, everyone they see that Christ has risen! (And everyone lives happily ever after.)

Wait. . . that isn’t what happens, is it?

What happens?

So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.

Now, is that anyway to run a Resurrection?

Why are they scared and not excited? Why do they say nothing to no one? Why do they run away in fear?

Well, for one, things have obviously gotten out of control – way out of control.

People who have been put to death – people who have been dead and buried for days – aren’t supposed to get up and meet you somewhere else.

Something big is going on – something huge – and something totally out of the ordinary.

In The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, the 4 Pevensie children are in the home of Mr. and Mrs. Beaver. They’ve never heard of Aslan before – the Christ figure in the Chronicles –

Mrs. Beaver said, “if there’s anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they’re either braver than most or else just silly.”

“Then he isn’t safe?” said Lucy.

“Safe?” said Mr. Beaver; “don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. Be he’s good. He’s the King I tell you.

Near the end of the book, long after the Pevensie children have gotten to know Aslan well, and while Aslan was leaving them, Lucy recalls another conversation with the Beavers:

Mr. Beaver had warned them, “He’ll be coming and going,” he had said. “One day you’ll see him and another you won’t. He doesn’t like being tied down – and of course he has other countries to attend to. It’s quite all right. He’ll often drop in. Only you mustn’t press him. He’s wild you know. Not like a tame lion.”

He’s not safe – but he’s good. He’s not tame – but he’s wild.

This was Lucy’s discovery, and this was the discovery at the empty tomb that the women made.

Jesus isn’t predictable, he isn’t ‘safe,’ he’s ‘not tame’ – he’s wild, and good, and uncontainable.

The manger can’t contain him, the authorities couldn’t contain him, and the shroud or tomb couldn’t contain him – he’s an uncontainable force –

And uncontainable forces are scary.

In the news this week, people are worried that Iran is might soon have nuclear weapons. In general this isn’t a big deal – lots of countries have nuclear weapons – the problem is that we can’t contain Iran – they’re unpredictable – their outside of our control. That’s why it’s scary.

At the tomb, on the morning of the third day, God shows once and for all who he is, and how nothing can hold him down, or hold him back.

And the force which God wields – the force which compelled him to send his son – the force which compelled his Son to be crucified on the cross – the force which raised Christ from the dead, and destroyed the powers of death, sin, and evil – that force is the boundless love of God.

That kind of love is scary, and good, and anything but tame.

That’s what made the women run in fear on that first Easter morning. It’s what has changed lives for thousands of year – lives who come to belief and faith in this power, and the God who is behind it. And it’s what brought us here this morning.

Oh, the other thing about the women running in fear, and telling no one about anything: It’s not the end of the story. Mark doesn’t end his Gospel with a nice, neat ending because there is no ending to this story.

This story of the power of God, and his gift of love, goes on – and it’s meant to go on through us and with us.

The characters have changed – the characters are us.

The stone on the tomb is rolled back, tomb is open and it’s empty. Do not be alarmed, for Jesus of Nazareth is not in the tomb, he has been raised. Go, tell others the Good News, and know that the love which sent him, killed him, and brought him to New Life is for you, and for all.

The Cross: Get Over Yourself

Jesus walked by the docks, and stopped when he saw several fishermen there; cleaning their nets.

He ambled over to them, and gave them a simple, provocative, and yet strange opportunity: follow me.

Follow me? They had never seen this guy before! They had no idea who he was. Really at this point in his life, no one knew who he was – except maybe his family.

But these fishermen – complete with wives, families, lives, and quite obviously, a job – dropped everything and followed him.

And they didn’t stop following him, until his road took a sharp turn – towards Golgotha. Then they abandoned him.

They abandoned him because his journey changed – his destination changed.

Actually, the journey and destination were the same as they had always been – they just weren’t the journey and destination that Peter, James, and John had in mind.

Though this journey was always on the mind of God.

It was a journey that they would pick up again, after the discovery on the morning of the third day.

And it is a journey that we are all asked to take – the journey that is supposed to mark our lives, make our lives, and make our lives different.

The journey to the cross.

Take up your cross and follow me.

When Jesus was lifted on the cross for all the world to see: he was lifted high. He was lifted in agony. He was lifted with purpose. And he knew the enormity of the moment: he was going to die; this was it; never would the world be the same again; never would all creation be the same again.

When we ponder the cross, it is easy to slip into what the cross does for us.

Hundred and hundreds of years of Christian theology has tried to figure out exactly how the event of the cross gives us the gifts of salvation and the forgiveness of our sins.

There’s the ransom theory of the atonement, which says that the every sinner’s life belonged to Satan. So, Jesus – who had not committed sin – willingly gave his life as a ransom for all humanity. (This is the theory of atonement that we see very clearly in “The Chronicles of Narnia.”)

There were some theologians who didn’t like this theory, because they didn’t like the idea of the Devil being owed anything by God. So they came up with the Satisfaction theory of the atonement. It says that God couldn’t just wipe away human sin without sacrifice – without it being paid for. So, Jesus, the Lamb of God, offered his life sacrificially for everyone, paying God back, and giving God what he needed to make things right.

There are other theories – it would be good to note that no theory is laid out in scripture. The Bible tells us that Christ destroyed sin and death on the cross, but it never says ‘how’ it did what it did.

And I think that’s all good and well, myself, because to make the cross about us only shines a light on our own self-absorption.

The cross was God being God: it was the moment when God showed what kind of God he was, and how far he was willing to go. He was lifted high on the cross for all the world to see, so that all the world might see what love, power, grace, and strength really is.

We all too often make Christianity about us: we make it about getting our butts into Heaven – about giving us blessings – about getting us out of the world on the first rapture train. But, for it to be authentic, it has to be about God!

We’re always on God’s mind, we’re always in the path of God’s love – the problem comes in when we are always on our mind, and we’re always in the path of our own love and self-absorption.

It’s like the bad marriage where the wife is looking out for the needs of the husband – and the husband is looking out for the needs of the. . . husband!

We are freed to love God with all our heart, soul, mind and strength, and we are freed to love our neighbor as ourselves – because God is loving us! Because our neighbor is loving us!

And so, when God looks at the cross, he is freed to think of us, and when we look at the cross we can then put our own selfish needs and desires aside and think of God.

On Good Friday we always read the passion from the Gospel of John. John’s Passion is remarkably different from the Passion accounts in Matthew, Mark and Luke. No shouts of ‘my God, my God, why have you forsaken me.’ No crying out in a loud voice.

In John, Jesus is completely in control. He coolly reminds Pilate that Pilate has no power to do anything, except the Power of God from on high. He is no sooner nailed to the cross that he’s setting up the care arrangements for his mother. And in his final moments, he gives up his spirit – it’s not taken away from him, he gives it up.

In John, the cross isn’t just the moment of execution, it’s the moment of exaltation – it’s the moment of enthronement. It when the King of Kings, the Son of Man, the Lamb of God is lifted high upon the cross for all the world to see.

The cross – especially in the Gospel of John, is all about God. It’s God being God. It’s God showing all the world what true power, victory, and triumph looks like. It’s God showing the world exactly what he’s make of. It’s God redefining love, and grace, and holiness.

It’s interesting how many times, and in how many ways humanity has tried to be like God. Adam and Eve ate the apple so that they might have the same knowledge that God has. The people of Babel built the tower so that they might be as high as God. Today we try and manipulate life in a Petri dish, create machines as smart or smarter than we were created. We build bigger and bigger bombs, to wield more and more power – we build buildings with their own climate systems that can be controlled with the simple turn of a knob– and we try and decide who has a right to life and who doesn’t.

The ironic thing is, if we really wanted to be like God – if we really wanted that kind of power and glory – if we wanted to taste omnipotence and omnipresence – we couldn’t come near it with bombs or towers. We couldn’t hold a candle to it with Petri dishes or apples.

To wield that kind of power we’d have to give everything up: control, prestige, comfort, might – and life.

That kind of divine power only comes with the love, grace, and triumph of the cross: where the victim is the victor – the executed is the exalted, and where the awesome, thunderous, and majestic Presence of God is lifted high for all the world to see -

And when he breathed his last, and gave up his spirit, the view from the cross never changed – and his love for the world – his love for his executors – his love for his betrayers, and deniers, and his followers who fled for fear of facing the same fate –

That love never faltered, that power never flickered – it was stamped on creation forever, stamped high on the cross, lifted for all to see – and believe – and know – and follow.

The Sign

Most relationships involve promises and agreements.

Nations make treaties with one another which dictate how they will act towards each other, and how they will act in the world.

People make formal contracts with one another: mortgages, employment agreements, arbitration.

People also make less formal agreements with one another. When Karen and I first started dating, we made an unspoken agreement that we would only see and date each other, until we decided otherwise. Then we made a bit more formal agreement, with a ring and a promise, that we were going to get married. Then we made a formal commitment, complete with white gown, tuxedo, and priest that we would have and hold each other from that day forward, come what may.

Promises, agreements, contracts – they concern who the agreement is being made with – they concern what the agreement will be about – and they concern the responsibilities of each party (who has to do what for the agreement to work and not break off).

Throughout humanity’s relationship with God, we’ve had agreements and contracts too. Sometimes they were less formal: like the pledge to Adam and Eve that they could people the earth (go forth and multiply. . .). And sometimes they were big deal agreements. Big deal agreements between God and humanity are always called ‘covenants.’

Scholars and preachers debate and argue about exactly how many covenants God made with us (some say as many as 10, others as few as 1), but it’s pretty clear that there are at least 4 instances where God set down an agreement through a certain person – agreements which would change the world forever.

And, with each of these agreements, God gives us a sign – like the physical paper of a contract – which help us and Him remember his promises, and our promises, and our relationship.

What was the first real covenant that God made with us? The covenant with Noah. Remember? God promised that he would never again destroy the world in a flood.

Do you remember who that covenant was made with? Just Noah? Just humanity? No. It was made with all living creatures on the face of the earth.

And what was the sign of the covenant? The bow. When God got angry with his people, and the clouds came over, and he saw his bow, he would remember this covenant with all life on earth, and not bring a flood again.

What was the second covenant? (It’s actually only a few chapters after the covenant with Noah in the Book of Genesis) The covenant with Abraham. What was the deal – what was the agreement? God would make Abraham (an old man of 91) and make him the father of a great nation, and he would bless his descendants forever. So this covenant wasn’t with all humanity and all life on earth: it’s with the children of Abraham.

And, what was the sign of the covenant? Circumcision. The children of Israel were to have the reminder of the covenant marked on their bodies: they were supposed to be different. As God sanctified Abraham and his descendants forever, his descendents forever were to be set apart from the rest of the world, that they might show the world that there God is a holy God. The nations of the world were supposed to be able to look at these marked people, and say: wow they are so holy, their God must be a holy God.

What was the third covenant – this is actually the toughest of them to remember for some reason: Moses. God made an agreement with Moses that God would be their God and they would be His People – the only thing they had to do was follow God’s laws (that was their end of the bargain). Again, the idea was that Israel was to live such holy lives that the nations of the world would look on them and know what a holy God they had. Note here, again, that this covenant isn’t with all humanity and earthly life – it’s with the Jews – the children of Abraham and the followers of Moses.

What was the sign? Sabbath. The children of Abraham and the followers of Moses were supposed to rest one day a week. It wasn’t a suggestion – a nice idea – it was law, it was decreed, and it was the sign of the covenant, the agreement that God was making with His people.

And what was the final covenant? The final covenant is the reason we’re here today – it’s the reason this church is here today – it’s what makes this week Holy Week, and it’s what makes us Christians: it’s the covenant that God made through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

Who is the covenant with? Just Jews? Just the children of Abraham and the followers of Moses? All creation? All earthly life?

For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son, that all who believe in him may not perish but have everlasting life.

All who believe in him.

What’s the agreement? The deal? Everlasting life, the love of God, the forgiveness of our sins.

And. . . what’s the sign?

After supper, he took the cup of wine, and when he had given thanks he gave it to them and said, ‘take this all of you and drink it, this is my blood of the – New Covenant, which is given for you and for many for the forgiveness of sins.

On the night Jesus was betrayed by Judas – on the night he was denied by Peter – on the night before he forged the covenant on the hard wood of the cross – he gathered his disciples around him for a meal, and gave them the sign covenant: his body and his blood.

The only time in all the Bible that Jesus uses the word ‘covenant’ is in the story of the Last Supper, when he took bread, gave thanks for it, broke it and gave it – when he took the cup of wine, gave thanks for it, and gave it.

Remember on the road to Emmaus, when the disciples are walking with the Resurrected Jesus and didn’t know it. They were talking about Jesus, but they didn’t recognize that it was Jesus that they were talking to. Do you remember how they finally recognized him?

In the breaking of the bread. Not just because he had broken bread with them so many times before (and he had) – but because he was showing them the sign of the covenant – and with the sign, they remembered, and saw.

In this covenant, what’s our end of the bargain? Yes, it is to believe in him – but belief isn’t just something that goes on in the head. We’re supposed to believe, and have that belief effect our lives. How? What’s a life of faith supposed to look like?

Well, Jesus showed the disciples – and us.

Because after giving them the sign of the covenant, he got up from table and washed their feet. He told them to love one another, and serve one another. When all the world looked upon them, and us their descendents, the world is supposed to see servants, serving each other and serving God. When the world sees the church, the community of the servants of the servant, they would know what kind of God we have, what kind of Messiah we have, and what kind of faith we have.

And so, how we live matters. How we celebrate and remember Jesus with the celebration of the Lord’s Supper matters. It’s the sign of the covenant.

It’s the sign of God’s love for us. It’s the sign of the agreement that God has made with his people once and for all. And in the breaking of the bread, we can with eyes of faith see Jesus: the crucified, the Risen, and the one who is to come.