No manuscript this week, but you can find a video of this sermon here. You can also find videos of several other sermons on this blog here.
CPT
Monday, April 29, 2013
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Get on up! (Fourth Sunday of Easter 2013)
Acts 9:36-43
36
Now in Joppa there was a disciple whose name was Tabitha, which in Greek is
Dorcas. She was devoted to good works and acts of charity. 37 At that time she
became ill and died. When they had washed her, they laid her in a room
upstairs. 38 Since Lydda was near Joppa, the disciples, who heard that Peter
was there, sent two men to him with the request, "Please come to us
without delay." 39 So Peter got up and went with them; and when he
arrived, they took him to the room upstairs. All the widows stood beside him,
weeping and showing tunics and other clothing that Dorcas had made while she
was with them. 40 Peter put all of them outside, and then he knelt down and
prayed. He turned to the body and said, "Tabitha, get up." Then she
opened her eyes, and seeing Peter, she sat up. 41 He gave her his hand and
helped her up. Then calling the saints and widows, he showed her to be alive.
42 This became known throughout Joppa, and many believed in the Lord. 43
Meanwhile he stayed in Joppa for some time with a certain Simon, a tanner.
I think from
time to time we all ponder the big questions of our own existence. “Why am I
here?” “What difference can I make?” “Will I be missed when I’m gone?” Perhaps
it’s a bit of a confession to say that I’ve asked that last question more than
once, so I’ve done what most people do when they’re seeking the answer to a
deep and particularly perplexing question—I turned to Google, and sure enough,
I got an answer.I eventually clicked on a link that took me to a website called
www.gotoquiz.com. There I found a short,
fourteen-question quiz that was guaranteed to tell me whether or not I’d be missed
when I was gone.[1]
The first
question was simple enough: “What is your age?” I clicked “25 to 30 Years Old.”
Question #2 was also pretty simple and straightforward: “What is your gender?”
I clicked “male” (in case you were wondering). Question #3 was when the quiz
really started to get deep: “Would you consider yourself a ‘nice person’?” Now,
I’d like to think I’m a nice person, but I’m sure there are others who might
think otherwise. Either way, I clicked “yes.”
Question #4: “Do
you always wish friends and family a happy birthday?” Now, I have to stop here
and explain something to you. Birthdays were not a big deal when I was growing
up—at least my birthday was never a big deal. I’m also not the best at
remembering when other people’s birthdays are, and I’m that one friend you have
on Facebook that doesn’t post on your wall on your birthday simply because
everyone else is doing it, and I tend to have a habit of being a dissenter. So,
for question #4 I checked the answer “sometimes.”
Question #5
asked if I was a good listener. I like to think I am, so I checked “yes.” Then,
question #6 asked “When someone asks for help, do you help them?” I feel like I
do what I can when I can, so again, I checked, “yes.” In order to keep from
revealing the rest of my answers and coming across as someone who is totally
self-unaware, I’ll just skip the rest of the quiz questions and get to the
results.
After answering
all fourteen questions, I clicked “submit answers,” and in an instant I got the
answer to the question “Will I be missed when I’m gone?” According to the results
of this quiz, I have an 81% chance of being missed. In fact, my results said,
“Yes, you will be missed very much. Your family will weep, your friends will
sob, and all others in your community will mourn. You will have a nice funeral,
and everyone who knew you will come, many will speak a few words about you.”
You can imagine my relief when this fourteen-question quiz on the internet
prophesied my future and the emotional state of my family and friends after my
departure from the world of the living!
In all
seriousness, though, I do think we all wonder from time to time if we’ll be
missed. We wonder if we’ll make enough of an impact in this life that others
will remember us when we’re gone; we wonder if they’ll say things like, “They
broke the mold when she was born,” or, “They don’t make men like him anymore.” I
think if we’re all honest, we want to be missed; we want to know that we’re
significant, that we’ve made a difference, that people love us. I think
sometimes some of us wish we could be like Tom Sawyer, Huck Finn, and Joe
Harper, who had the oddly unique experience of witnessing their own funeral and
the way their friends and family missed them.[2] We
want to know that we will be missed. In some ways, I think we want to be like
this woman in Joppa in our text today, a woman so desperately missed by her
community that they sent for an apostle in the hopes that she could be
resuscitated.
Now, it may
seem strange to us to think that this community of believers in Joppa would
keep the body of their beloved friend Tabitha (or Dorcas) washed in an upper
room, after sending a couple of men for the Apostle Peter, who just so happened
to be in the nearby town of Lydda healing a man named Aeneas, who himself had
been paralyzed and bedridden for no less than eight years. It may seem strange
to us despite our cultural traditions of wakes and evenings spent “sitting up
with the dead”,[3]
but it would have been stranger still in a time and culture where the body was
typically buried the day a person died out of respect for that person. The fact
that they kept her body in an upper room and sent for Peter suggests that they
were expecting something to happen—some kind of miracle that would revive their
sister, Dorcas. [4]
But why? Why
not simply say a few last words and bury her body in the respectful way their
tradition demanded? If we were to witness such a scene today, we might label
the believers in Joppa as “codependent.” We might say they have attachment
issues, and perhaps the more practical but less sensitive among us might even
go so far as to tell them to move on, to get on with their lives and deal with
the reality that Tabitha died. That still doesn’t get to the heart of the
matter though—why did these disciples at Joppa want to hold on to their sister
so strongly? Why were they willing to risk the faux pas of an unburied corpse
in order to wait on a traveling apostle? Why did they miss Tabitha so much?
Perhaps it’s
worth noting here that while this story of resuscitation isn’t necessarily a
unique story in Holy Scripture, there are some unique points in the story worth
pointing out.[5]
You may recall the story of Lazarus and how Jesus raised him from the dead, but
can you remember anything about what Lazarus did during his life? Can you
remember anything at all about Lazarus except for the names of his sisters and
that he followed Jesus? What about the daughter of Jairus, another person whom
Jesus brought back to life? Matthew, Mark, and Luke can’t even recall her name.
Then there was the son of Zeraphath’s widow, raised by Elijah in 1 Kings 17 and
Elisha’s raising of the Shummanite woman’s son in 2 Kings 4. In both of these
instances they are sons raised in order to restore worth and hope to women in
an ancient patriarchal society. But what makes this story in Acts 9 so different?
Is it different at all?
Unlike these
others who had been revived, we have at least a little information about the
kind of person Tabitha was. In verse 36
Luke tells us, “She was devoted to good works and acts of charity.” The “acts of charity” which Tabitha
performed were likely the giving of alms to the poor.[6] Furthermore, at the beginning of that
verse, Luke calls Tabitha a “disciple,” in Greek, maqhtria (this is the only place in
the entire New Testament where the feminine form of the word is used). Tabitha
is a do-good disciple, a leader in the church at Joppa. What is more, she used
her resources for the good of the community, for in verse 39 we see that after Peter arrived on the scene “All
the widows stood beside him, weeping and showing tunics and other clothing that
Dorcas had made while she was with them.” The way the language reads
here suggests that the clothes these widows were showing Peter may have been
the very clothes they were wearing.[7]
Dorcas/Tabitha was the not
the kind of church and community leader that pointed to others and said “do
this…go there.” No, she was the kind of disciple who cared for her sisters and
brothers (especially the widows) by doing herself! She was not missed because
of the plaques on her walls, the buildings the bore her name, or the charitable
foundation started by her money or named in her honor—no! She was missed
because she was an active and providing member of the church and community
there at Joppa. She was missed not because she remembered to wish her friends
and family a happy birthday, not because she thought she was a good listener,
and certainly not because she considered herself a “nice person.” She was
missed because her presence brought faith, hope, and love to her community.
What happens there is Joppa
in that upper room is surely miraculous. In verses 40 through 42 we hear that “Peter
put all of them outside, and then he knelt down and prayed. He turned to the
body and said, ‘Tabitha, get up.’ Then she opened her eyes, and seeing Peter,
she sat up. He gave her his hand and helped her up. Then calling the saints and
widows, he showed her to be alive. This became known throughout Joppa, and many
believed in the Lord.” Tabitha’s resuscitation became news, and it led
to many believing in the Lord, but I can’t help but believe that the way she
lived her life before her death had also led many to believe in the Lord.
Long before
Peter had told Tabitha to “get on up” her life had served as a witness to the
Lord who calls each of us to love our neighbor as ourselves, to care for the
widow and the orphan, to give to those who have need. Long before Peter, the great apostle, had arrived on
the scene in Joppa, Dorcas the disciple was clothing the widows of her
community, giving alms to the poor, and devoting herself to good deeds. Tabitha
was missed not because of a charming personality or excellent taste in art; she
was missed because of her actions of obedience in following Jesus had made her
a vital and important part of her community. To put it another way, she was
missed because she had been the hands and feet of Christ to her community.
This week, in Boston, West,
and countless other communities around the world, people are mourning the loss
of loved ones. Communities are missing those who have died. They miss the sound
of their laughter, the sights of their smiles, and the ways they made their
communities whole. We are still living in the midst of these tragedies as
recovery begins and communities are being revived. In the wake of such
tragedies we often find ourselves all pondering the big questions of our
own existence. “Why am I here?” “What difference can I make?” “Will I be missed
when I’m gone?” We cannot predict the future, nor can we alter the past, but we
can begin to change our community and our world now, in the present. We can
begin creating the kind of testimony that Tabitha/Dorcas left behind a
testimony of a life lived following the loving example of Jesus, a life of
giving without the need of praise or congratulation. She did not live a life in
selfish pursuits, but she lived a life marked by good deeds and acts of charity.
When
devastating news of loss comes our way, when we mourn with communities around
the world who have lost so much and so many, may we find encouragement and hope
in Tabitha’s story. May we find the courage to get on up and begin creating a
legacy of faith, hope, and love that will change our communities and eventually
change the world. May we begin living lives of purpose and meaning, following
Jesus as his disciples. And when we ask ourselves if we will be missed when we
are gone, may we hope the answer is yes, but not because of our own selfish
achievements, but because of the way we followed Christ by giving of ourselves
and being vital parts of our community. May we who live in a world rocked by
loss, death, and tragedy, remember the example of Tabitha and begin creating a
new world filled with the hope of Christ today.
Let us pray…
Lord Jesus, we pray as we live
in a world twisted by sin that you will use us, your Church, to bring hope. Use
us, O Lord, to change our community and our world by the power of your love and
the Holy Spirit. Help us to have mercy as we show others the grace you have
freely given to us all. Son of God, empower us this day to live lives of
discipleship that will cause others to miss us when we’re gone, to miss your
presence living through us. Show us this day how we can begin to change the
world. In your holy name we pray. Amen.
[2]
From The Adventures of Tom Sawyer,
chapter 17.
[3]
For background on the tradition of “Sitting up” with the dead, http://www.effinghamherald.net/archives/1654/
[4]
Darrel L. Bock, Baker Exegetical
Commentary on the New Testament, “Acts.” Baker Academic: Grand Rapids, MI
(2007). pp.377-8
[5] Lewis
S. Mudge, Feasting on the Word, “Fourth
Sunday of Easter: Acts 9:36-43 (Theological Perspective).” Westminster John
Knox Press: Louisville, KY (2009). p. 426-30
[6]
Bock, p.377
[7]
Robert W. Wall, Feasting on the Word, “Fourth
Sunday of Easter: Acts 9:36-43 (Exegetical Perspective).” Westminster John Knox
Press: Louisville, KY (2009). p. 429
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Beachfront Breakfast (Third Sunday of Easter 2013)
John 21:1-19
1 After these things Jesus showed
himself again to the disciples by the Sea of Tiberias; and he showed himself in
this way. 2 Gathered there together were Simon Peter, Thomas called the Twin,
Nathanael of Cana in Galilee, the sons of Zebedee, and two others of his
disciples. 3 Simon Peter said to them, "I am going fishing." They
said to him, "We will go with you." They went out and got into the
boat, but that night they caught nothing. 4 Just after daybreak, Jesus stood on
the beach; but the disciples did not know that it was Jesus. 5 Jesus said to
them, "Children, you have no fish, have you?" They answered him,
"No." 6 He said to them, "Cast the net to the right side of the
boat, and you will find some." So they cast it, and now they were not able
to haul it in because there were so many fish. 7 That disciple whom Jesus loved
said to Peter, "It is the Lord!" When Simon Peter heard that it was
the Lord, he put on some clothes, for he was naked, and jumped into the sea. 8
But the other disciples came in the boat, dragging the net full of fish, for
they were not far from the land, only about a hundred yards off. 9 When they
had gone ashore, they saw a charcoal fire there, with fish on it, and bread. 10
Jesus said to them, "Bring some of the fish that you have just
caught." 11 So Simon Peter went aboard and hauled the net ashore, full of
large fish, a hundred fifty-three of them; and though there were so many, the
net was not torn. 12 Jesus said to them, "Come and have breakfast."
Now none of the disciples dared to ask him, "Who are you?" because
they knew it was the Lord. 13 Jesus came and took the bread and gave it to
them, and did the same with the fish. 14 This was now the third time that Jesus
appeared to the disciples after he was raised from the dead. 15 When they had
finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, "Simon son of John, do you
love me more than these?" He said to him, "Yes, Lord; you know that I
love you." Jesus said to him, "Feed my lambs." 16 A second time
he said to him, "Simon son of John, do you love me?" He said to him,
"Yes, Lord; you know that I love you." Jesus said to him, "Tend
my sheep." 17 He said to him the third time, "Simon son of John, do
you love me?" Peter felt hurt because he said to him the third time,
"Do you love me?" And he said to him, "Lord, you know
everything; you know that I love you." Jesus said to him, "Feed my
sheep. 18 Very truly, I tell you, when you were younger, you used to fasten
your own belt and to go wherever you wished. But when you grow old, you will
stretch out your hands, and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take
you where you do not wish to go." 19 (He said this to indicate the kind of
death by which he would glorify God.) After this he said to him, "Follow
me."
I’m often fascinated by the notion
that our sense of smell has such a strong tie to our memories. With a passing
sniff of the stuff in the air, our minds can suddenly recall people, places,
and things we have otherwise forgotten. We might not be able to place a finger
on the source of such a scent, but our brain (specifically the part of our
brain called the hippocampus) has a fascinating way of manufacturing long-term
memories simply by our sense of smell. [1]
I know for me, any time I smell freshly cut
grass on a sun-filled, spring day, I immediately recall my first day of
baseball practice in the third grade. Or anytime I walk into someone’s home and
it is so cold that it makes the air smell wet with condensation from the coils
of a window air conditioner, my mind takes me back to those days when the
school bus would drop me off at Ma’s house, and we’d play blackjack for pennies
at the kitchen table while the air conditioner in the window loudly strained at
keeping up with the humidity of South Alabama. Even the smell of old oil and
grease on a worn cement floor calls my mind back to those first times I ever
saw the underbelly of a car, holding the droplight for my dad as he attempted
to keep whatever jalopy he was driving at the time held together. Even the
smell of whatever chemical it takes to create the temporary hairstyle that is
ironically called a permanent, recalls the memories of when my mother went
through a phase in her life where she was certain she had to have a perm.
Perhaps you’ve noticed such a connection in your own life. Maybe the
smell of the spray of the ocean as it crashes on the beach takes you back to
those first summer trips you made with your family when you were a child. Maybe
the smell of warm soil, mixed with the salty scent of sweat transports you back
to those days on a family farm or grandma’s garden. It really is amazing how
strongly our sense of smell is tied to memory. Of course, the way our sense of
smell recalls memories isn’t exactly under our control, and as such, we may
even find our noses triggering memories we had hoped were long lost, emotions
we had hoped would not resurface.
Like the smell of misting rain on one of those
awkward in-between days in September, when the earth is trying to decide if it’s
ready for autumn, my mind forces me to recall the day I had to do my first
funeral as a pastor—the funeral of my grandmother. Like the smell of hot wires
and metal can recall the trauma of losing one’s house or the way the smell of
whiskey brings to mind the loss of a loved one to addiction. Sometimes such a
scent can be apparent, one we experience every day, but our brains secretly
spring the trap of sentiment on us, and our minds are transported to another
time and place we had hoped to never visit again. It can be an aroma as obvious
and specific as aftershave, or it can be subtle and commonplace, like the smell
of breakfast in the morning, but that scent can trigger our minds to recall
something we had thought was buried deep within the mausoleum of our memories. It
can even be a smell as familiar as a charcoal fire.
It’s in chapter 18, verses 17 and 18 of John’s gospel where we first catch
a whiff of smoke. Jesus has been arrested in the garden of Gethsemane after
breaking bread with his disciples and washing their feet. It was during that
meal that Peter had vowed his allegiance to Jesus, his willingness to lay down
his life for Christ. In chapter 13,
verse 37, Peter says, “I will lay down my life for you,” but
Jesus replies to him in verse 38: “Will you lay down your life for me? Very
truly I tell you, before the cock crows, you will have denied me three times.”
And, with smoke-filled nostrils in chapter
18, verse 17, Peter denies Jesus the first time: “The woman said to Peter, ‘You
are not also one of this man’s disciples are you?’ [Peter] said, ‘I am not.’” In
verse 18 it says, “the
slaves and the police had made a charcoal fire because it was cold…Peter also
was standing with them and warming himself.” With the smell of burning
charcoal in his nose, Peter denied knowing Jesus for the first of three times;
he would deny him twice more in verses
25 through 27 of chapter 18. In verse
27, after Peter’s third denial, he hears the cock crow, with the smell of
charcoal and smoke still fresh on his nostrils.
The events that followed Peter’s
denial happen with the kind of swiftness mostly associated with vacation days.
Jesus is tried, accused, and sentenced to crucifixion. He is executed on a
cross, and his body is placed inside a borrowed tomb. About three days later,
Peter hears the news that the tomb Jesus was placed in is now empty, so he runs
to check it out and finds it just as it was told to him. That afternoon, Jesus
appears to all of the disciples as they were hiding out in a locked room,
fearful that the same group who had Jesus arrested and executed might be after
them. The writer of John’s gospel relays the events following Jesus’ arrest and
Peter’s denial with a relative quickness, but to have lived in the midst of
that confusion, the heartbreak, and the panic must have surely made the days
feel like eons. It would have felt like enough time to forget.
After Jesus appears to the disciples
a second time and wipes away Thomas’ doubts, we come to the text we’ve heard
here today, an epilogue to the Fourth Gospel.[2]
It’s an interesting scene: Peter in verse
three simply declares that he is going fishing. Now, maybe Peter was one of
those people who can’t stand to be still, one of those people who would much
rather have something to do to keep them from going stir crazy than stand
around waiting for something to happen. Maybe Peter figured it was time to get
back to normal; perhaps he thought that life after Jesus’ resurrection was
supposed to be like it was before only with the added knowledge that Jesus had
overcome death. I’d like to think that Peter was a practical person, and he was
likely bored, hungry, or both, so he decided to do what he had done for most of
his life—fish.
Now, after Peter decides to go
fishing, the rest who were with him decide to join in. I imagine Peter’s lungs
filled with the cool night air as he and the others set the nets in the water.
The smell of the water, the boat, the smell of fish, likely brought all kinds
of memories to the forefront of Peter’s mind as he and the others repeatedly
threw their cast nets between the trap nets in the water, only to draw them up
empty.[3]
That night, according to verse 3,
they caught nothing; in fact, throughout all four of the gospels, the disciples
never catch any fish by themselves. No, they never catch any fish until…Jesus
shows up.
In verse 4 we find out that Jesus is standing on the shore of the lake
as the sun came over the horizon. He shouts out to the disciples on the water
in verse 5, “Children, you have no fish, have
you?” They shout back, “No.” So Jesus tells them to try the
right side of the boat, and “they were not able to haul it in because
there were so many fish.” I have to think that mixed with their
excitement and amazement was just a tad bit of frustration—after spending all
night fishing, a stranger shouts from the shore to try the other side of the
boat, and apparently that’s where the fish had been all along!
In the midst of all of the work and
excitement that goes into hauling in such a large catch of fish, “That
disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, ‘It is the Lord!’” and at the
sound of such news, Peter tucks in his clothes[4]
and jumps in the sea. He’s off swimming to the shore, towards the one he’s been
told was the Lord. He’s excited; this is the risen Jesus, the one who triumphed
over the grave, the one who appeared to them even though the doors were locked.
Peter is swimming to Jesus—to the Lord, and he is so enthused, so motivated by
seeing Jesus, that when the others have rowed the boat in with the heavy net of
fish, Peter (in verse 11) “went
aboard and hauled the net ashore, full of large fish, a hundred fifty-three of
them; and though there were so many, the net was not torn.” It seems as
if Peter is infused with some source of divine strength![5]
Peter seems to be on top of his game. This is the Simon Peter Jesus
called from the shores of Galilee. This is the Simon Peter who stood out as the
leader among Jesus’ followers. This is Peter, Petros, Rock—the Rock on which Jesus said he would build his
church. This Peter, the one who jumps in the water, swims to Jesus, and hauls
in the large catch of fish—this post-resurrection Peter—is a far cry from the
shifty-eyed apostle who denied Jesus three times while warming himself by the
charcoal fire…
There it is again, in verse 9: “When they had gone ashore, they saw a
charcoal fire there…” Peter no doubt smelled that charcoal fire burning
there on the beach, cooking some fish and bread for a beachfront breakfast.
Perhaps his sense of smell hadn’t triggered the memory yet, but the author of
this gospel wants to trigger ours. Peter is surging, he almost seems
superhuman. In the smoky smell of burning charcoal, however, Peter and Jesus
have a private conversation—a conversation that would bring memories rushing to
the forefront of Peter’s mind, memories that would deflate this disciple.
In verses 15-19, Jesus asks
Peter the same question three different times: “Do you love me?” Peter
replies each time, “yes.” Then Jesus tells Peter “feed my lambs…tend my sheep…”
Three times Jesus asks Peter if he loves him. Three times Jesus tells Peter to
look after his flock. Three times…Once by a charcoal fire, Peter denied Jesus
three times. Once by a charcoal fire, Peter told Jesus how much he loved
him—three times. Once, with the smell of smoke wafting in the air, Jesus
commands Peter to tend to his sheep; it’s as if Jesus said to Peter once again,
“You are the rock on which I will build my church.”
I don’t doubt the smell of charcoal and the three-fold formula of Jesus’
questions brought to Peter’s mind how he had denied Jesus—not once, but three
times—before. And I don’t doubt that it must have troubled Peter to know that
he was eating and talking with the same Jesus (now resurrected) he had denied
just a few days before. But despite Peter’s previous denial, despite how it
must have weighed on his heart and mind, Jesus still calls him to “Follow
me.”
In our journey with Jesus, there will come times when we will stumble,
times when we’ll let our guards down, times when sin will get the better of us.
There will also come times in our journey with Jesus where a photograph, a
song, a tattoo, or maybe a scent will remind us of who we once were, something
in our past of which we are not proud. There will be times when we will all be
in Peter’s place—having denied Jesus, either by our words or deeds and forced
to remember such denial. It will be easy to let those memories overtake us, to
give in to who we once were, to let our past flaws and failures keep us from
becoming the people Jesus calls us to be. But Jesus, just as he did to Peter,
asks us a simple question, “Do you love me?”
No matter what mistakes we have in our past, no matter what shameful
memories may be conjured up by the fragrance of our past failures, Jesus asks
one simple question, and he asks it in the present
tense: “Do you love me?” Despite where we’ve been, or what we’ve done
Jesus still calls us to “Follow me.”
Whether you can look back on your life and see a legacy of which you can
be proud, or whether you look back and see a life filled with trouble, Jesus
still asks, “Do you love me?” Whether you came here today bearing the
weight of memories filled with sorrow and sin, or whether you came into this
room with a spirit of wholeness and joy, Jesus still sends the call, “Follow
me.” And whether you’re here today sure of where you’re going, or if
you haven’t got a clue, Jesus still calls his followers to “feed my lambs…tend my sheep.”
Do you love Jesus today? Will you follow him? Will you join with us as we seek
to feed his lambs and tend his sheep?
Let us pray…
Lord Jesus
Christ, Son of God, have mercy on us, for we are sinners. Help us not to be
weighed down by the memories of past sins and denial. Show us the way to
restoration in your love for us and our love for you. Eternal God, call us to
Yourself. Help us to let go of our sins and trust in your redemption and
resurrection. Move in our presence that we may respond to your word as we have
heard it in this place today. In the name of the living Lord Jesus we pray.
Amen.
[2] George
R. Beasley-Murray, Word Biblical
Commentary, Vol. 36 “John.” Word Books: Waco, TX (1987). p.395
[3] Gary
M. Burge, The NIV Application Commentary,
“John.” Zondervan: Grand Rapids, MI (2000). p.582-3
[4] Andreas
J. Köstenberger, Baker Exegetical
Commentary on the New Testament, “John.” Baker Academic: Grand Rapids, MI (2004).
p.591
[5] Ibid.
p.592
Monday, April 1, 2013
Resurrection Moments (Easter 2013)
Luke 24:1-12
1 But on the first day of the
week, at early dawn, they came to the tomb, taking the spices that they had
prepared. 2 They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, 3 but when they
went in, they did not find the body. 4 While they were perplexed about this,
suddenly two men in dazzling clothes stood beside them. 5 The women were
terrified and bowed their faces to the ground, but the men said to them,
"Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has
risen. 6 Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, 7 that the
Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third
day rise again." 8 Then they remembered his words, 9 and returning from
the tomb, they told all this to the eleven and to all the rest. 10 Now it was
Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women with them
who told this to the apostles. 11 But these words seemed to them an idle tale,
and they did not believe them. 12 But Peter got up and ran to the tomb;
stooping and looking in, he saw the linen cloths by themselves; then he went
home, amazed at what had happened.
On our coffee table at home is a
simple, two-sided glass picture frame. On one side of the frame is one of
Sallie and my engagement pictures, taken by a friend of ours about seven years
ago. On the other side of the frame is a different sort of picture. It’s a
picture that was taken over the Fourth of July weekend of 2008 in San Antonio,
Texas: we’re standing in front of The Alamo. Now, I have to tell you, The Alamo
(for those of you who’ve never been) isn’t exactly what you’d expect—at least
it wasn’t what I was expecting.
For whatever reason, I was expecting
to be halfway to the desert, at least on the outskirts of San Antonio, looking
for this big, antique, stone building, scarred from its famous battle and years
of weathering in the South Texas sun. I was expecting to see the kind of
building John Wayne defended as Davy Crocket; I was thinking we’d drive up to a
wide, concrete parking lot, with a huge, tan, castle-looking structure in the
distance. What we found, however, was nothing like what I was expecting.
The morning we were going to visit
The Alamo we got dressed in comfortable walking clothes (I figured we’d need to
be comfortable to walk in the near-desert climate on the way to the site),
hopped in the car, and started following the brown road signs marking the way
to The Alamo. Well, before too long I realized we were driving in downtown San
Antonio (I remember thinking how strange it was that we would have to cut
through downtown…). But before long, we found ourselves parking between the
office buildings that rose up like giant saguaro (suh-wah-ro) cacti all over the city, and we continued following the
signs on foot. Then it just sort of snuck up on us: we turned the corner of a
construction-clogged city street to find ourselves almost directly in front of
an old, dust-colored building no higher than a two-story house. We found The
Alamo, stuck between the modern buildings of downtown San Antonio like a lost
remote control in the couch cushions. It wasn’t at all what I was expecting: it
was in the middle of the city and it seemed way too small, but it’s strange
when you find something you weren’t expecting and it changes your perspective.
You see, finding The Alamo in
downtown San Antonio among the polished steel, the glistening glass, the
paint-striped asphalt, and concrete sidewalks, immediately made me aware of the
reality that this modern city wasn’t always so modern. It made me greatly aware
that this little mission-turned-fortress must have indeed been something of a
miraculous battleground as Santa Anna as his troops laid siege for thirteen
days on the troops inside. I think if I had found what I expected to find—an
antique Texas relic drying on the edge of the wilderness—I may not have been so
captivated by its story. But you know, it really is something when you find
what you weren’t expecting and it changes your perspective.
I’m sure Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the
mother of James, and the other women with them were expecting something
completely different when, on the first day of the week, at early dawn,
they came to the tomb, taking the spices that they had prepared. I’m
sure they expected to find in the darkness of early dawn, a heavy stone disk securely
sealing the entrance to the rock-hewn tomb. I’m sure they expected to ask for
help once they arrived since the men who had so closely followed Jesus in his
life have now scattered and are in hiding after his death. I’m sure they
expected to brace themselves for the stench of decomposition as they entered
the tomb to treat the corpse of their beloved friend and teacher they expected
to find inside. I’m sure they carried with them all kinds of expectations about
death, graves, corpses, and grief, but when they arrived at the tomb that
morning, they did not find what they expected to find…they found something else
entirely, and what they found changed their perspective, changed their lives.
Luke tells us “They
found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they went in, they did not
find the body.” The same Greek word is used there talking about what
the women found, εὗρον: they
expected to find (εὗρον), a stone blocking the way, and they expected to find (εὗρον) the
body of Jesus inside. But they found, instead, what they weren’t expecting: the
tomb was empty and the body of Jesus gone. Had someone taken the body? Were
they in the wrong place (it was dark after all)? Was this some kind of cruel
joke, a final rubbing of salt in the wound to his followers? Upon finding
anything but what they expected, the women “were perplexed about this.” But
before they had time to figure out what was going on, “suddenly two men in dazzling
clothes stood beside them”—this certainly isn’t what they were
expecting, because Luke records their response to this sudden appearance of
dazzling men in verse 5: “The women were terrified and bowed their
faces to the ground.” These unexpected, angelic figures speak to the
confused and frightened women "Why do you look for the living among
the dead? He is not here, but has risen. Remember how he told you, while he was
still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be
crucified, and on the third day rise again."
That’s all it took, a little
reminder of words they had heard along the way, and in a literary instant,
these women go from perplexed and terrified to being the first, joy-filled
proclaimers of the truth—“returning from the tomb, they told all this
to the eleven and to all the rest.” But there again, their story isn’t
what the elven and all the rest were expecting. After all, these were women in
the first-century and they were grief-stricken, so maybe they don’t have the
most credibility among a bunch of first-century Jewish men. In fact, Luke tells
us in verses 11 and 12: “But [the women’s] words seemed to them an
idle tale, and they did not believe them. But Peter got up and ran to the tomb.”
The men, hiding out in some undisclosed location, don’t believe the women, yet
there was something that caused Peter to run and “double-check.”
Now, I wonder what Peter expected to
find. Perhaps he expected to find what the women had expected to find earlier:
an intact tomb, the body of Jesus, three-days-dead, inside. Maybe, in the
clearer light of a later morning, Peter expected to discover the truth behind
what those women had claimed to see, perhaps he expected he might even discover
that they had indeed been at the wrong tomb all along. But when Peter arrived
at the tomb, “stooping and looking in, he saw the linen cloths by themselves.”
He didn’t see what he expected to see—all he saw were the linen grave cloths
and nothing else. “[T]hen
he went home, amazed at what had happened.” That’s all it took—one look
inside the tomb, not a personal appearance from Jesus himself, not some sort of
resurrection note in Jesus’ own post-death hand—one look, and Peter went from a
hiding, doubtful disciple, to an amazed witness. Peter didn’t find what he
expected: he found something different, and it changed his life.
In those first resurrection moments
of that first Resurrection Morning, the unexpected transformed perplexed,
terrified women into excited, sure witnesses. In those first resurrection moments
of that first Resurrection Morning, the unexpected transformed a denying,
doubtful disciple into an amazed apostle. That’s what resurrection moments are:
unexpected, transformative moments that can change our lives if we are
receptive to their truth. Peter, Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of
James, and the other women were all transformed by these resurrection
moments—moments that revealed to them the truth that Christ is who he said he
is, moments that might otherwise leave one perplexed, terrified, or amazed.
Of course, these sorts of
resurrection moments still happen in our presence today. They are those
unexpected, transformative moments that might otherwise leave us scratching our
heads wondering, “Why?” They are not moments surrounding an empty, borrowed
tomb, but those moments of undeserved kindness: when one offers to help pay for
the groceries of a total stranger in line at the market, when the piano player
at my home church slips a twenty into my hand after church just because she
wants to. They aren’t moments highlighted by the presence of a once-dead corpse,
but moments marked by the very real presence of the body of Christ: when a congregation
comes together to rebuild its community and help to feed hungry children, when
a body of believers unites in order to make sure the elderly in its community
are loved and looked after, when a church is more than brick walls a and a whit
steeple. These resurrection moments don’t always happen in the dim light of
early dawn, but they happen in the cold nights when a warm blanket and a hot
meal are offered to the one who needs it, when friends and family gather around
a child the day she has to lay her mother in the ground.
Resurrection moments are happening
all around us, every day. They are those moments when the reality of the living
Christ is made known by the testimony—the words and actions—of those who
believe that Jesus is who he said he is. Because you see, the great thing about
this retelling of Jesus’ resurrection in Luke’s gospel is that the women who
first saw the empty tomb—a resurrection moment if ever there was one!—ran to
tell others. They ran to create more resurrection moments as they shared the
good news of Christ’s resurrection. We are called to do the same. We are called
to make the resurrection of Christ a reality in the lives of those around
us—and not only through the retelling of the story of that first Easter, but
through the way we live our lives for others.
We make Christ’s resurrection a
reality—creating resurrection moments—when we go out of our way, sacrificing
our time, money, or resources, in order to bring food, comfort, joy, or love to
someone else. We create resurrection moments when we hear the bad news of the
world—poverty, sickness, hatred, injustice—and we seek the Good News to the
world by striving to right those wrongs. We create resurrection moments when we
gather together to relive the story, when we gather around the bread and the
cup, for while we eat and drink to commemorate Christ suffering and death, we
eat and drink together with our brothers and sisters throughout the world and
the ages of time. And when we, the Body of Christ, come together around the
table, Jesus is alive in our midst—it is truly a resurrection moment.
Let us pray…
Eternal God,
Almighty Father, Everlasting Spirit, Risen Son, on this day when we celebrate
your victory over sin and the grave, we come to the table for this resurrection
moment in this place. We ask, Holy Spirit, that you stir among us; may we
respond to those moments in our lives where Christ’s resurrection has been made
real to us. May you bless this time, bless this bread, bless this cup. And help
us, O God, as we live between Christ’s resurrection and our own, to create
resurrection moments along the way that speak to the truth of our salvation
through your life, death, and resurrection. In the name of the resurrected Lord
Jesus we pray. Amen.
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