(A sermon based on Acts 2:1-21 for Pentecost 2013)
What happened on Pentecost was that the Holy Spirit came upon the followers of Jesus who had assembled in Jerusalem following his ascension. He had told them to wait there until they were baptized with the Holy Spirit and, ten days after he ascended, they were still waiting.
And then, suddenly, the Spirit came; all at once the followers of Jesus received their inheritance from their Lord.
The coming of the Holy Spirit to those first believers was, to understate it terribly, a major event. And the Holy Spirit has remained in and with the Church ever since which is also, to understate it terribly, a big deal.
There is no point in seeking a scientific explanation for events like this one; what happened was an act of divine grace and God, being God, can offer God’s gifts in any way that God pleases. I could not resist, though, delving into a little science as I thought about the events of Pentecost, particularly as I tried to imagine being in that room when “suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind” (NRSV).
I got to thinking about why wind makes a sound.
Before there is the sound, though, there is the wind. So why is there wind? Put too simply, wind occurs as air moves from an area of high atmospheric pressure to an area of low pressure. The closer the two pressure areas are to one another, the stronger the wind will be. So why does wind make a sound? Again put too simply, it doesn’t; but, when air speed changes the resulting vibration in the air molecules can be picked up by our ears as “sound.” The more drastic the change is, then, the louder the sound will be.
Now, let’s go back to the “sound like the rush of a violent wind” that filled the house where the believers were sitting. Perhaps we can imagine that those disciples heard that sound because the atmosphere of heaven had drawn right up against the atmosphere of Earth and that close proximity created a strong disturbance that brought about tremendous changes in the atmosphere. Therefore, the disciples heard a “sound like the rush of a violent wind.”
The text does not say that there was an actual wind, just that there was the sound of a powerful wind; still, once the Spirit fell on the gathered believers things started to move as if they were compelled by a mighty wind. It was if the believers were sitting in a sailboat on a calm day with the sails unfurled but slack when all of a sudden a powerful wind began to blow that filled the sails and propelled the boat forward.
But what if a sailboat is anchored when the wind begins to blow? If it’s strong enough, what the wind can’t find a way through or can’t move it will push over or destroy. A good wind will propel a sailboat forward but that same wind, if the sailboat is anchored with its flags unfurled, will tip the boat over.
The boat needs to be untethered and to have its sail unfurled so the wind can propel it forward and it can carry its passengers on their journey.
The Church needs to have our anchor up and our sail unfurled so the Spirit can propel us forward on our mission.
On the day of Pentecost, the Spirit came and when it came it sounded like a mighty wind. Heaven had come right up next to Earth and caused a powerful movement in the atmosphere. The disturbance was violent enough to be perceived as a loud noise by the believers gathered in that room.
And when that Spirit came into those disciples they began to preach the Good News of Jesus Christ in languages that all the immigrants and pilgrims in Jerusalem could understand. The Spirit came to those Christians so that it could be passed along to others through the ministry of the Word and so that the disciples could be empowered and equipped to carry out their mission.
We are the inheritors of that same wind, of that same Spirit. The Spirit moves in us and through us, driving us forward and empowering us to share the life of God with others.
Who will the Spirit lead us to be? What will the Spirit lead us to do? Where will the Spirit lead us to go?
Is our anchor up? Is our sail unfurled? Will we be who the Spirit is leading us to be? Will we do what the Spirit is empowering us to do? Will we go where the Spirit is calling us to go?
Sunday, May 19, 2013
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Jesus Lives—In Our Unity!
(A sermon based on John 17:20-26 for the Seventh Sunday of Easter)
When a family manages, through all the turmoil and calm, through all the bad and good, through all the change and the sameness, to hang in there and still be a family, what is it that holds that family together? On Mother’s Day, we naturally expect the answer to be “Mother” or “Mom” or “Mama”—or whatever your family’s preferred title is. And that would be an accurate answer for many of our families, although for some it would be “Father” or “Grandparent” or “Big Sister or Brother” or “Foster Parent” or someone else. There often is a person who functions as the family’s “glue.”
The real answer to the question, though—and it’s an answer for which those other answers can and do stand—is “love.” The glue that holds a family together is love, and such love is selfless love, self-giving love, and self-sacrificing love. And such love leads the one who has it to offer a lot of prayer for the family.
The Church is a family, too. We are a big, spread out all over the world kind of family; we have millions of sisters and brothers that we have never seen and that we will never meet. We love each other and show that love by praying for each other.
But the Church is also a local, right here with each other kind of family; we have dozens of sisters and brothers that we see all the time both in the church building and out in the community. It’s remarkable that the universal Church has held together for two thousand years and that this particular church has held together for over a hundred years. The church universal and the church local have many problems and struggles and even divisions but nonetheless we can still affirm that there is indeed “one Lord, one faith, one baptism.”
Jesus loves us, this we know. Because loves us he prayed for us. Our staying together is an answer to our Savior’s prayer.
Today’s text is the last part of a prayer prayed by Jesus on the night that he was betrayed and arrested. In the first part of that prayer he prayed for those who had followed him during his life while in the second part he prayed for all of those who would believe in him through the words of his apostles—and that includes us. So here we have a prayer that Jesus prayed for us! And in that prayer he prayed that we would be together—that we would be one.
When we are a unity we are an answer to Jesus’ prayer; when we are a unity we are experiencing and expressing the life of Jesus—indeed, the very life of God—in our life as a community, in our life as a church.
Unity is not the same thing as uniformity, though. We are united but we are not alike. We walk together but we do not walk in lockstep. Jesus prayed that we would be one as the Father and he are one. Now, while the relationships between the persons of the Trinity are complex, this much is clear: for the Father and the Son to be one does not mean that they are the same; if they were, it would make no sense for Jesus to pray to the Father, which he did regularly.
And yet the Father and Son are one and Jesus prayed that we would be one in the same way; indeed, he also prayed that we would be one with them!
There is something powerful and mysterious about all of this. It is awe-inspiring and challenging.
Still, our text points us toward an answer to this important question: What kind of unity can we share with God and with each other? The answer is that we can share the unity of love that leads to the glory of sacrifice and giving.
The love that the Father has for the Son caused the Son to give his life away; that same love will cause us to give our lives away. Love leads to glory but the way to glory leads through the cross.
This is the miracle of being the Church; this is the miracle of being Christian; this is the miracle of being united with God and with each other.
We are a unity with God and with each other when God’s love leads us to give ourselves away. The Christian life is not about saving ourselves; it is about giving ourselves away. That is the key to being a Christian family and it is the key to being a Christian Church.
This week I saw a poem that said very well what I’m stumbling around trying to say. It’s called “Are You Saved?”
All this talk of saving souls,
Souls weren’t meant to save,
Like Sunday clothes that
give out at the seams.
They’re made for wear;
they come with a lifetime guarantee.
Don’t save your soul.
Pour it out like rain
on cracked, parched earth.
Give your soul away,
or pass it like a candle flame.
Sing it out,
or laugh it up the wind.
Souls were meant for hearing
breaking hearts, for puzzling dreams,
remembering August flowers,
forgetting hurts.
These folk who talk of saving souls!
They have the look of bullies
who blow out candles before you
sing happy birthday,
and want the world to be in alphabetical order.
I will spend my soul,
Playing it out like sticky string
Into the world…
So I can catch every last thing I touch.
Next time someone asks, “Is your soul saved?”
Say, “No, it’s spent, spent, spent!”
---Linder Unders
Mothers are mothers because they don’t try to save themselves; they give themselves away.
Christians are Christians because they don’t try to save themselves; they give themselves away.
The Church is the Church because it doesn’t try to save itself; it gives itself away.
And when the Church does that, we are sharing with God and with each other in the love and glory of God. We are united with God and with each other in love, in service, and in sacrifice …
When a family manages, through all the turmoil and calm, through all the bad and good, through all the change and the sameness, to hang in there and still be a family, what is it that holds that family together? On Mother’s Day, we naturally expect the answer to be “Mother” or “Mom” or “Mama”—or whatever your family’s preferred title is. And that would be an accurate answer for many of our families, although for some it would be “Father” or “Grandparent” or “Big Sister or Brother” or “Foster Parent” or someone else. There often is a person who functions as the family’s “glue.”
The real answer to the question, though—and it’s an answer for which those other answers can and do stand—is “love.” The glue that holds a family together is love, and such love is selfless love, self-giving love, and self-sacrificing love. And such love leads the one who has it to offer a lot of prayer for the family.
The Church is a family, too. We are a big, spread out all over the world kind of family; we have millions of sisters and brothers that we have never seen and that we will never meet. We love each other and show that love by praying for each other.
But the Church is also a local, right here with each other kind of family; we have dozens of sisters and brothers that we see all the time both in the church building and out in the community. It’s remarkable that the universal Church has held together for two thousand years and that this particular church has held together for over a hundred years. The church universal and the church local have many problems and struggles and even divisions but nonetheless we can still affirm that there is indeed “one Lord, one faith, one baptism.”
Jesus loves us, this we know. Because loves us he prayed for us. Our staying together is an answer to our Savior’s prayer.
Today’s text is the last part of a prayer prayed by Jesus on the night that he was betrayed and arrested. In the first part of that prayer he prayed for those who had followed him during his life while in the second part he prayed for all of those who would believe in him through the words of his apostles—and that includes us. So here we have a prayer that Jesus prayed for us! And in that prayer he prayed that we would be together—that we would be one.
When we are a unity we are an answer to Jesus’ prayer; when we are a unity we are experiencing and expressing the life of Jesus—indeed, the very life of God—in our life as a community, in our life as a church.
Unity is not the same thing as uniformity, though. We are united but we are not alike. We walk together but we do not walk in lockstep. Jesus prayed that we would be one as the Father and he are one. Now, while the relationships between the persons of the Trinity are complex, this much is clear: for the Father and the Son to be one does not mean that they are the same; if they were, it would make no sense for Jesus to pray to the Father, which he did regularly.
And yet the Father and Son are one and Jesus prayed that we would be one in the same way; indeed, he also prayed that we would be one with them!
There is something powerful and mysterious about all of this. It is awe-inspiring and challenging.
Still, our text points us toward an answer to this important question: What kind of unity can we share with God and with each other? The answer is that we can share the unity of love that leads to the glory of sacrifice and giving.
The love that the Father has for the Son caused the Son to give his life away; that same love will cause us to give our lives away. Love leads to glory but the way to glory leads through the cross.
This is the miracle of being the Church; this is the miracle of being Christian; this is the miracle of being united with God and with each other.
We are a unity with God and with each other when God’s love leads us to give ourselves away. The Christian life is not about saving ourselves; it is about giving ourselves away. That is the key to being a Christian family and it is the key to being a Christian Church.
This week I saw a poem that said very well what I’m stumbling around trying to say. It’s called “Are You Saved?”
All this talk of saving souls,
Souls weren’t meant to save,
Like Sunday clothes that
give out at the seams.
They’re made for wear;
they come with a lifetime guarantee.
Don’t save your soul.
Pour it out like rain
on cracked, parched earth.
Give your soul away,
or pass it like a candle flame.
Sing it out,
or laugh it up the wind.
Souls were meant for hearing
breaking hearts, for puzzling dreams,
remembering August flowers,
forgetting hurts.
These folk who talk of saving souls!
They have the look of bullies
who blow out candles before you
sing happy birthday,
and want the world to be in alphabetical order.
I will spend my soul,
Playing it out like sticky string
Into the world…
So I can catch every last thing I touch.
Next time someone asks, “Is your soul saved?”
Say, “No, it’s spent, spent, spent!”
---Linder Unders
Mothers are mothers because they don’t try to save themselves; they give themselves away.
Christians are Christians because they don’t try to save themselves; they give themselves away.
The Church is the Church because it doesn’t try to save itself; it gives itself away.
And when the Church does that, we are sharing with God and with each other in the love and glory of God. We are united with God and with each other in love, in service, and in sacrifice …
Friday, May 10, 2013
Above, Beyond, and Beside
(A sermon based on Luke 24:44-53 & Ephesians 1:15-23 for Ascension Day 2013)
Following his resurrection, Jesus spent 40 days with his disciples and then, on that fortieth day, he ascended to take his place at the right hand of his Father. From there he rules over all that is and from there he will come to judge the living and the dead.
This, then, is an awe-inspiring day. It is a day to celebrate the power of God and the lordship of Christ.
It is a day to celebrate the fact that Jesus is beyond us. After his resurrection he came back to his disciples but then forty days later he left them. Jesus Christ is the Son of God who left his place with the Father to come here as a human being who lived, died, and rose again. Then he ascended—he went back to be with his Father and in so doing he went somewhere that they could not go, at least not yet. So this is a good day to remember and to celebrate that Jesus Christ is beyond us. He is God and he is to be worshiped.
When Jesus left his followers he left them for good—not in the sense that he would never come back because he will but in the sense that it was for their (and our) good. He said so himself when he said that it was good for his followers if he went away because then the Father would send the Holy Spirit who would be with them.
It is an ironic truth: Jesus Christ is beyond us and because he is beyond us he is always with us. That is because in God’s gracious plan the ascension of Jesus led to the Father’s sending of the Holy Spirit which is the Spirit of God and the Spirit of Christ; that Spirit will never leave us.
It is a day to celebrate the fact that Jesus is above all things. When he ascended, Jesus took his place as Lord of everything that is in the universe. Through his resurrection and subsequent ascension, Jesus became greater than every other power or influence in the universe. Absolutely everything is under his feet. There is nothing that is not under him and that will not finally bow down before him and submit to him. Jesus is Lord!
It is an amazing truth: the same power of God that caused Jesus to be raised from the dead and seated at the right hand of the Father in heavenly places is available to us right here and right now! That great power of God is working in and through us.
It is a day to celebrate the fact that Jesus is beside the Father. To say that Jesus is at the right hand of the Father is to say that he is in the position of honor and power. From his place of honor and power Jesus rules all of creation. From that position he is our Lord and so he rules our lives and the life of the Church.
It is an awe-inspiring truth: the life of the resurrected and ascended Christ fills the Church. We are filled with the life of Jesus Christ our Lord!
As you can see, Ascension Day is a day to celebrate God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. Now, can we get a glimpse of the difference the Ascension makes for us?
Following his resurrection, Jesus spent 40 days with his disciples and then, on that fortieth day, he ascended to take his place at the right hand of his Father. From there he rules over all that is and from there he will come to judge the living and the dead.
This, then, is an awe-inspiring day. It is a day to celebrate the power of God and the lordship of Christ.
It is a day to celebrate the fact that Jesus is beyond us. After his resurrection he came back to his disciples but then forty days later he left them. Jesus Christ is the Son of God who left his place with the Father to come here as a human being who lived, died, and rose again. Then he ascended—he went back to be with his Father and in so doing he went somewhere that they could not go, at least not yet. So this is a good day to remember and to celebrate that Jesus Christ is beyond us. He is God and he is to be worshiped.
When Jesus left his followers he left them for good—not in the sense that he would never come back because he will but in the sense that it was for their (and our) good. He said so himself when he said that it was good for his followers if he went away because then the Father would send the Holy Spirit who would be with them.
It is an ironic truth: Jesus Christ is beyond us and because he is beyond us he is always with us. That is because in God’s gracious plan the ascension of Jesus led to the Father’s sending of the Holy Spirit which is the Spirit of God and the Spirit of Christ; that Spirit will never leave us.
It is a day to celebrate the fact that Jesus is above all things. When he ascended, Jesus took his place as Lord of everything that is in the universe. Through his resurrection and subsequent ascension, Jesus became greater than every other power or influence in the universe. Absolutely everything is under his feet. There is nothing that is not under him and that will not finally bow down before him and submit to him. Jesus is Lord!
It is an amazing truth: the same power of God that caused Jesus to be raised from the dead and seated at the right hand of the Father in heavenly places is available to us right here and right now! That great power of God is working in and through us.
It is a day to celebrate the fact that Jesus is beside the Father. To say that Jesus is at the right hand of the Father is to say that he is in the position of honor and power. From his place of honor and power Jesus rules all of creation. From that position he is our Lord and so he rules our lives and the life of the Church.
It is an awe-inspiring truth: the life of the resurrected and ascended Christ fills the Church. We are filled with the life of Jesus Christ our Lord!
As you can see, Ascension Day is a day to celebrate God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. Now, can we get a glimpse of the difference the Ascension makes for us?
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Jesus Lives—In Our Love!
(A sermon based on John 13:31-35 for the Fifth Sunday of Easter)
The great Chinese philosopher Lao Tzu (6th century BCE) said,
“If you are depressed you are living in the past.
If you are anxious you are living in the future.
If you are at peace you are living in the present.”
It is, like most pithy sayings, an oversimplification—some depression and some anxiety can have a biological and chemical basis, for example; but it is also, like many such sayings, packed with truth.
It is also a saying that a Christian can affirm, although probably not without some elaboration.
Here is one necessary elaboration: “If you are at peace you are living in the present because you are living in love.” That is a necessary elaboration because living in love is the necessity if a Christian is going to live a life of peace.
The Apostle Paul famously said, “Now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love” (1 Corinthians 13:13). For as long as I can remember I have said—and not incorrectly, I think—that love is the greatest of the three because it is the one that will exist all through eternity. We won’t need faith and hope in eternity because we will see and know completely, but, since God is love, we will live in love for all of eternity.
But we need to see that there is more to it than that.
We need faith now because faith can be the remedy for depression. That is especially true for a depression that comes from things that have happened in the past. All of us have hurt ourselves and hurt others through things we have done or have not done; all of us have sinned against God, against others people, and against ourselves. That knowledge can drag us down into depression. But faith—the trust that Jesus did indeed die on the cross for our sins and that we are by God’s grace indeed forgiven—can help to resolve our past so that we can live fully in the present.
We need hope now because hope can be the remedy for anxiety. Anxiety can visit us because we are worried about the future; we are worried about things that haven’t happened but that might happen. Such worries can drag us down into anxiety. But hope—the assurance that because of the resurrection of Jesus our future is in God’s hands—can help to resolve our future so that we can live fully in the present.
So the key to the situation is living in the present. Through the gift of faith we can overcome the paralysis of feeling guilty about the past; through the gift of hope we can overcome the paralysis of feeling anxious about the future. That leaves us living in the present which is, after all, the only place we are and can be. And living fully in the present comes down to living in love that frees us from spiritual and emotional paralysis and sets us free to give ourselves away.
On the last night of his life on earth, Jesus did not cling to his past; while he had nothing to feel guilty about he could have waxed nostalgic about the eternity that he had spent in loving fellowship with his Father and the Holy Spirit but he, in great trust, left his past behind both in reality and in the way he approached life. He also did not think anxiously about the future; while he would pray “Father, if it be your will, let this cup pass from me” he would also pray “Nevertheless, not my will but your will be done.” He, in great hope, trusted his future to his Father both in reality and in the way that he approached life.
And that left him living in the present. He was fully present in the present, loving his disciples and being open and vulnerable with them until the very end.
He laid down his pride for them, washing their feet as if he was a common servant.
Then, finally, he laid down his life for them, dying on the cross as if he was a common criminal.
And he called us to do the same. He called his disciples, including us, to love like he loved, to love by laying down our pride and our lives for each other. When we do so he lives on through and in us. But we can only live such lives by living in love which causes us to be fully present in the present with each other.
As the twentieth century theologian Emil Brunner said, “And to become a loving heart instead of a worried, self-centered heart meant to become ‘present.’ The man who receives Christ in faith receives presence, because God’s love is presence. By agape he now has become capable of being ‘with’ his fellow men.” [Emil Brunner, Faith, Hope and Love (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1956), p. 74. I am indebted to the chapter “Love” for many of my thoughts in this sermon.]
It is so simple and yet so complicated, so easy and yet so difficult.
First, we pay attention to the fact of each other.
Second, we think more of others than we do of ourselves.
Third, we operate from the premise of wanting to give ourselves up rather than of having to do so.
Fourth, we do what we can do.
Fifth, and foremost, we live out the love that is ours because Jesus Christ is present with us. It is only because he is present with us that we can be fully present with each other.
Jesus told his disciples that they could not go where he was going; they were going to have to stay where they were and while they were there they were to love one another.
We’re still here. How will we live? How will we love?
The great Chinese philosopher Lao Tzu (6th century BCE) said,
“If you are depressed you are living in the past.
If you are anxious you are living in the future.
If you are at peace you are living in the present.”
It is, like most pithy sayings, an oversimplification—some depression and some anxiety can have a biological and chemical basis, for example; but it is also, like many such sayings, packed with truth.
It is also a saying that a Christian can affirm, although probably not without some elaboration.
Here is one necessary elaboration: “If you are at peace you are living in the present because you are living in love.” That is a necessary elaboration because living in love is the necessity if a Christian is going to live a life of peace.
The Apostle Paul famously said, “Now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love” (1 Corinthians 13:13). For as long as I can remember I have said—and not incorrectly, I think—that love is the greatest of the three because it is the one that will exist all through eternity. We won’t need faith and hope in eternity because we will see and know completely, but, since God is love, we will live in love for all of eternity.
But we need to see that there is more to it than that.
We need faith now because faith can be the remedy for depression. That is especially true for a depression that comes from things that have happened in the past. All of us have hurt ourselves and hurt others through things we have done or have not done; all of us have sinned against God, against others people, and against ourselves. That knowledge can drag us down into depression. But faith—the trust that Jesus did indeed die on the cross for our sins and that we are by God’s grace indeed forgiven—can help to resolve our past so that we can live fully in the present.
We need hope now because hope can be the remedy for anxiety. Anxiety can visit us because we are worried about the future; we are worried about things that haven’t happened but that might happen. Such worries can drag us down into anxiety. But hope—the assurance that because of the resurrection of Jesus our future is in God’s hands—can help to resolve our future so that we can live fully in the present.
So the key to the situation is living in the present. Through the gift of faith we can overcome the paralysis of feeling guilty about the past; through the gift of hope we can overcome the paralysis of feeling anxious about the future. That leaves us living in the present which is, after all, the only place we are and can be. And living fully in the present comes down to living in love that frees us from spiritual and emotional paralysis and sets us free to give ourselves away.
On the last night of his life on earth, Jesus did not cling to his past; while he had nothing to feel guilty about he could have waxed nostalgic about the eternity that he had spent in loving fellowship with his Father and the Holy Spirit but he, in great trust, left his past behind both in reality and in the way he approached life. He also did not think anxiously about the future; while he would pray “Father, if it be your will, let this cup pass from me” he would also pray “Nevertheless, not my will but your will be done.” He, in great hope, trusted his future to his Father both in reality and in the way that he approached life.
And that left him living in the present. He was fully present in the present, loving his disciples and being open and vulnerable with them until the very end.
He laid down his pride for them, washing their feet as if he was a common servant.
Then, finally, he laid down his life for them, dying on the cross as if he was a common criminal.
And he called us to do the same. He called his disciples, including us, to love like he loved, to love by laying down our pride and our lives for each other. When we do so he lives on through and in us. But we can only live such lives by living in love which causes us to be fully present in the present with each other.
As the twentieth century theologian Emil Brunner said, “And to become a loving heart instead of a worried, self-centered heart meant to become ‘present.’ The man who receives Christ in faith receives presence, because God’s love is presence. By agape he now has become capable of being ‘with’ his fellow men.” [Emil Brunner, Faith, Hope and Love (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1956), p. 74. I am indebted to the chapter “Love” for many of my thoughts in this sermon.]
It is so simple and yet so complicated, so easy and yet so difficult.
First, we pay attention to the fact of each other.
Second, we think more of others than we do of ourselves.
Third, we operate from the premise of wanting to give ourselves up rather than of having to do so.
Fourth, we do what we can do.
Fifth, and foremost, we live out the love that is ours because Jesus Christ is present with us. It is only because he is present with us that we can be fully present with each other.
Jesus told his disciples that they could not go where he was going; they were going to have to stay where they were and while they were there they were to love one another.
We’re still here. How will we live? How will we love?
Sunday, April 14, 2013
Jesus Lives—In Our Service!
(A sermon based on John 21:1-19 for the Third Sunday of Easter 2013)
You have likely heard the quote “Failure is not an option.” It’s a nice thought and it would be a good motivator in a time of crisis when all energies need to be focused on finding solutions that will help a person or group work toward a positive outcome.
If you really think about it, though, you have to admit that it doesn’t hold up. Failure is always an option; sometimes it comes despite our best efforts while sometimes it comes because we choose it by our failure to give our best effort.
I like this Chinese proverb better: “Failure is not falling down but refusing to get up.” Sometimes we will not succeed but we don’t truly fail unless we don’t get up and try again. I remember reading about a monk describing life in the monastery to a writer: “We fall down and we get up again. We fall down and we get up again. We fall down and we get up again.”
When it comes to talking about who we are as it compares with who we can be, I find myself in a quandary. As a follower of Christ, as a pastor of the Church, and as a proclaimer of the gospel, I feel like idealism and realism are having a tug of war—and I’m the rope.
I must tell you that we who are growing up into Jesus Christ can be making a lot more progress toward who we are coming to be in Christ than we are willing to believe. I do us a disservice if I do not tell you that we need always to be moving upward; I do not tell you the truth unless I tell you that we all have a long way to go and we can go farther if we desire it. That’s the idealism—we can and should be becoming all that we are meant in Christ to be; we can and should be doing all that we are meant in Christ to do. We walk in newness of life and the Spirit of God is in us; therefore our expectations of ourselves should be high and we cannot excuse ourselves if they are not.
On the other hand, I must tell you that along the way, failure is an option. That is not an excuse; it is a fact. We do fail along the way even if we are doing our best, which we often are not. We will at times not be who we could have been; we will at times not do what we could have done.
Everybody fails. Some of us seem to have the ability to deny it or to justify it so that we don’t have to face up to our fallibility while others of us seem paralyzed by the possibility of failure.
Odd as it may see, though, there are times when our failures can work out for the best. That is some of the best of the good news.
And so we come to Simon Peter.
On the night that Jesus was betrayed, Simon Peter told Jesus that he would lay down his life for him to which Jesus replied, “Will you lay down your life for me? Very truly, I tell you, before the cock crows, you will have denied me three times” (John 13:38). While John does not record Peter’s response, both Mark and Matthew tell us that Peter insisted he would do no such thing—and I am sure that he meant it.
And in such sureness can lie the problem. Why? For one thing, if you are sure you won’t fail, you won’t be on your guard against failure. For another thing, if you are sure you won’t fail, you might not quite believe it when you do and try to blame everybody but you for your failure. For a third thing, if you are sure you won’t fail and you happen not to in a particular situation in which failure might have been expected, you just might find yourself tending toward the very non-Christian characteristic of arrogance.
And arrogance is a real problem in the life of a follower of Christ because it makes us real interested in how good we look doing good things; it causes us to become, to use Mark Twain’s memorable phrase, “good in the worst sense of the word.”
This is why I suggest the perhaps shocking possibility that Simon Peter’s failure was in the long run good for him and why our failures can in the long run be good for us. Peter needed to learn—and we need to learn—that despite and maybe even because of our failures we can become more effective servants of the Lord and more effective ministers to people.
So it came to pass that early that morning beside the Sea of Galilee, as Peter stood shivering in his wet clothes beside the fire, Jesus asked him, “Simon, do you love me more than these?” Now, the “these” could have been his fishing implements or they could have been the other disciples. Regardless, the point is that Jesus was asking Peter, who had failed so miserably just a few days before, if he loved Jesus.
How the memory of his failure must have rushed back on Peter as he tried to answer the question without bursting into tears. As we listen in on their conversation, it is helpful to know that different words for “love” are used, namely, agape which means God’s love and philos which indicates a friend’s love [Here I agree with Scott Hoezee, “Third Sunday of Easter, Year C,” in The Lectionary Commentary: Theological Exegesis for Sunday’s Texts—The Third Readings: the Gospels (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001), pp. 600-601]. Jesus initially asked Peter if he loved him with agape love; Peter replied that he loved Jesus with philos love. Jesus told Peter to feed his lambs. Then Jesus asked him a second time if he loved him with agape love and Peter answered again that he loved Jesus with philos love. And Jesus told him to tend his sheep. Finally, Jesus asked Peter if he loved him with philos love and Peter, while saddened that Jesus had asked him a third time (and perhaps that Jesus had moved from using agape to philos), said that Jesus knew he did.
Jesus challenged Peter with a most difficult and challenging question; Peter gave Jesus the best and most honest answer he could. Finally, Jesus met Peter where he was and told him, in effect to do the best he could. The time would come when his philos love would become agape love. Meanwhile, Peter was to serve.
You see, God uses failures, and God may be able to use failures better than God can use anybody else.
This is one of the best parts of the good news about the resurrection.
Yesterday I was listening to Neil Young’s song “Old Man” in which a (then) young man sang to an older man, “Old man, look at my life; I’m a lot like you were” and I realized that I now heard the song from the perspective of the older man. And that’s why the following story means more to me now than it once did.
Dr. Carlyle Marney was one of the great Baptist preachers of the last century. Once, after speaking to some college students, he was asked by one of them to say something about the resurrection of the dead. Marney replied, “I will not discuss the resurrection of the dead with people like you. Look at you all – - – in the prime of life. Never have you known honest-to-God failure, heartburn, impotency, solid defeat, brick walls or mortality. . . . What can you know of a world that makes sense only if Christ is raised?”
Well, lots of us know. And the rest of us will know.
The world only makes sense if Christ is raised. We who have fallen head-first into failure and who have been picked up by Jesus and told to serve anyway know how important that great truth is …
You have likely heard the quote “Failure is not an option.” It’s a nice thought and it would be a good motivator in a time of crisis when all energies need to be focused on finding solutions that will help a person or group work toward a positive outcome.
If you really think about it, though, you have to admit that it doesn’t hold up. Failure is always an option; sometimes it comes despite our best efforts while sometimes it comes because we choose it by our failure to give our best effort.
I like this Chinese proverb better: “Failure is not falling down but refusing to get up.” Sometimes we will not succeed but we don’t truly fail unless we don’t get up and try again. I remember reading about a monk describing life in the monastery to a writer: “We fall down and we get up again. We fall down and we get up again. We fall down and we get up again.”
When it comes to talking about who we are as it compares with who we can be, I find myself in a quandary. As a follower of Christ, as a pastor of the Church, and as a proclaimer of the gospel, I feel like idealism and realism are having a tug of war—and I’m the rope.
I must tell you that we who are growing up into Jesus Christ can be making a lot more progress toward who we are coming to be in Christ than we are willing to believe. I do us a disservice if I do not tell you that we need always to be moving upward; I do not tell you the truth unless I tell you that we all have a long way to go and we can go farther if we desire it. That’s the idealism—we can and should be becoming all that we are meant in Christ to be; we can and should be doing all that we are meant in Christ to do. We walk in newness of life and the Spirit of God is in us; therefore our expectations of ourselves should be high and we cannot excuse ourselves if they are not.
On the other hand, I must tell you that along the way, failure is an option. That is not an excuse; it is a fact. We do fail along the way even if we are doing our best, which we often are not. We will at times not be who we could have been; we will at times not do what we could have done.
Everybody fails. Some of us seem to have the ability to deny it or to justify it so that we don’t have to face up to our fallibility while others of us seem paralyzed by the possibility of failure.
Odd as it may see, though, there are times when our failures can work out for the best. That is some of the best of the good news.
And so we come to Simon Peter.
On the night that Jesus was betrayed, Simon Peter told Jesus that he would lay down his life for him to which Jesus replied, “Will you lay down your life for me? Very truly, I tell you, before the cock crows, you will have denied me three times” (John 13:38). While John does not record Peter’s response, both Mark and Matthew tell us that Peter insisted he would do no such thing—and I am sure that he meant it.
And in such sureness can lie the problem. Why? For one thing, if you are sure you won’t fail, you won’t be on your guard against failure. For another thing, if you are sure you won’t fail, you might not quite believe it when you do and try to blame everybody but you for your failure. For a third thing, if you are sure you won’t fail and you happen not to in a particular situation in which failure might have been expected, you just might find yourself tending toward the very non-Christian characteristic of arrogance.
And arrogance is a real problem in the life of a follower of Christ because it makes us real interested in how good we look doing good things; it causes us to become, to use Mark Twain’s memorable phrase, “good in the worst sense of the word.”
This is why I suggest the perhaps shocking possibility that Simon Peter’s failure was in the long run good for him and why our failures can in the long run be good for us. Peter needed to learn—and we need to learn—that despite and maybe even because of our failures we can become more effective servants of the Lord and more effective ministers to people.
So it came to pass that early that morning beside the Sea of Galilee, as Peter stood shivering in his wet clothes beside the fire, Jesus asked him, “Simon, do you love me more than these?” Now, the “these” could have been his fishing implements or they could have been the other disciples. Regardless, the point is that Jesus was asking Peter, who had failed so miserably just a few days before, if he loved Jesus.
How the memory of his failure must have rushed back on Peter as he tried to answer the question without bursting into tears. As we listen in on their conversation, it is helpful to know that different words for “love” are used, namely, agape which means God’s love and philos which indicates a friend’s love [Here I agree with Scott Hoezee, “Third Sunday of Easter, Year C,” in The Lectionary Commentary: Theological Exegesis for Sunday’s Texts—The Third Readings: the Gospels (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001), pp. 600-601]. Jesus initially asked Peter if he loved him with agape love; Peter replied that he loved Jesus with philos love. Jesus told Peter to feed his lambs. Then Jesus asked him a second time if he loved him with agape love and Peter answered again that he loved Jesus with philos love. And Jesus told him to tend his sheep. Finally, Jesus asked Peter if he loved him with philos love and Peter, while saddened that Jesus had asked him a third time (and perhaps that Jesus had moved from using agape to philos), said that Jesus knew he did.
Jesus challenged Peter with a most difficult and challenging question; Peter gave Jesus the best and most honest answer he could. Finally, Jesus met Peter where he was and told him, in effect to do the best he could. The time would come when his philos love would become agape love. Meanwhile, Peter was to serve.
You see, God uses failures, and God may be able to use failures better than God can use anybody else.
This is one of the best parts of the good news about the resurrection.
Yesterday I was listening to Neil Young’s song “Old Man” in which a (then) young man sang to an older man, “Old man, look at my life; I’m a lot like you were” and I realized that I now heard the song from the perspective of the older man. And that’s why the following story means more to me now than it once did.
Dr. Carlyle Marney was one of the great Baptist preachers of the last century. Once, after speaking to some college students, he was asked by one of them to say something about the resurrection of the dead. Marney replied, “I will not discuss the resurrection of the dead with people like you. Look at you all – - – in the prime of life. Never have you known honest-to-God failure, heartburn, impotency, solid defeat, brick walls or mortality. . . . What can you know of a world that makes sense only if Christ is raised?”
Well, lots of us know. And the rest of us will know.
The world only makes sense if Christ is raised. We who have fallen head-first into failure and who have been picked up by Jesus and told to serve anyway know how important that great truth is …
Jesus Lives—In Our Lives!
(A sermon based on John 20:19-31 for the Second Sunday of Easter 2013)
[Note: the Abraham Baldwin College Chamber Singers led us in worship so I offered this brief message.]
Jesus is alive! And it is because Jesus is alive that we are alive! And it is because Jesus is alive and we are alive that we can offer Jesus’ life to other people!
The story in our text is set on Easter Sunday evening; Jesus appeared to his disciples who were huddled behind closed doors. There he gave them some gifts that would be necessary for their successful continuation of Jesus’ ministry.
One gift he gave them was his presence. He came to them and let them know that he was indeed alive; he gave them an experience with him.
Another gift he gave them was his peace. In his greeting “Peace be with you” was an affirmation of the ever-increasing wholeness and well-being that was their because of his life, death, and resurrection.
A third gift he gave them was the Holy Spirit. He conferred that great gift on them so that they would always know the presence and power of God.
A fourth gift he gave them was a commission. He sent them as the Father had sent him to offer hope and life to the lost and hurting.
Jesus has given us all those same gifts. We too are blessed with his presence, his peace, his Spirit, and his commission.
The next Sunday, after Thomas, who had been absent on Easter evening, was given the opportunity by Jesus to view his wounds and then expressed his faith in Jesus, Jesus said, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe.” What he meant was that after those who had been eyewitnesses to his resurrection had all died out, subsequent generations would have to believe in him based on the testimony—based on the lives—of those who bore witness to him.
What will they see in us—what do they see in us—that will help them to believe in him? How will they see him in us? They can’t see his presence, his peace, his Spirit, or his commission—although our inward possession of them might sometimes shine through us. What can they see?
They can see his wounds in us. They can see the wounds that we bear for serving and following him. Provided, of course, that we are willing to be wounded for his sake …
[Note: the Abraham Baldwin College Chamber Singers led us in worship so I offered this brief message.]
Jesus is alive! And it is because Jesus is alive that we are alive! And it is because Jesus is alive and we are alive that we can offer Jesus’ life to other people!
The story in our text is set on Easter Sunday evening; Jesus appeared to his disciples who were huddled behind closed doors. There he gave them some gifts that would be necessary for their successful continuation of Jesus’ ministry.
One gift he gave them was his presence. He came to them and let them know that he was indeed alive; he gave them an experience with him.
Another gift he gave them was his peace. In his greeting “Peace be with you” was an affirmation of the ever-increasing wholeness and well-being that was their because of his life, death, and resurrection.
A third gift he gave them was the Holy Spirit. He conferred that great gift on them so that they would always know the presence and power of God.
A fourth gift he gave them was a commission. He sent them as the Father had sent him to offer hope and life to the lost and hurting.
Jesus has given us all those same gifts. We too are blessed with his presence, his peace, his Spirit, and his commission.
The next Sunday, after Thomas, who had been absent on Easter evening, was given the opportunity by Jesus to view his wounds and then expressed his faith in Jesus, Jesus said, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe.” What he meant was that after those who had been eyewitnesses to his resurrection had all died out, subsequent generations would have to believe in him based on the testimony—based on the lives—of those who bore witness to him.
What will they see in us—what do they see in us—that will help them to believe in him? How will they see him in us? They can’t see his presence, his peace, his Spirit, or his commission—although our inward possession of them might sometimes shine through us. What can they see?
They can see his wounds in us. They can see the wounds that we bear for serving and following him. Provided, of course, that we are willing to be wounded for his sake …
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Holy Week Lingers—When We Live
(A sermon based on John 20:1-18 for Easter Sunday 2013)
Most of us have been there. Someone we love has died. The burial has taken place and we are still in that state of shocked numbness. The day after the burial, the first day that our loved one’s body lies in the grave, is a long and dark day. Maybe a lot of our family and friends have dispersed, returning necessarily to the routines of their lives. Or maybe a few are hanging in there with us for one more day, hoping against hope that they can do something to help.
The Saturday that Jesus’ body was in his tomb was such a day. The disciples huddled in hidden rooms, no doubt wondering if they might be next. Jesus’ followers were understandably crushed. As the travelers on the Road to Emmaus told the man who walked with them on Easter Evening, a man who was in fact the resurrected Christ, “we had hoped that he was the one who was to redeem Israel.” Was he just another of those messianic pretenders that came along with great regularity in Israel? Was he just another rabbi whose sense of calling led him to go too far? Maybe none of us know what it is to give yourself over completely to a person or to a cause and then to become disillusioned by the reality. But that was where the disciples may have found themselves.
Maybe they should have seen what was coming. Jesus had certainly given them hints and a couple of times had actually come right out and said it. But I think that we don’t want to be too hard on the disciples. After all, it’s not the kind of thing that you grasp readily. Furthermore, it’s not as if we are all today living the kinds of lives that you would expect someone to live who has met a resurrected Savior and whose life is lived in the light of that resurrection. It ought to make quite a difference, you would think.
So it came to pass that Mary Magdalene, whose life had been transformed by the grace of Jesus, went in what we can imagine to be great sorrow and great grief to visit the tomb of her teacher. It was still dark, John tells us, and in the dark is where Mary was in more ways than one. I imagine it as a quiet morning, the pall of Friday’s tragedy still hanging over the land, the birds trying as hard as they could to pierce the gloom with their songs, the sun stubbornly insisting on shining and thus forcing the world to go on. Through the darkness she trudged, her head held down. Lifting her eyes as she arrived at the tomb, she saw something she had not expected to see—the stone had been rolled away.
If you’ll allow me a little imagination here, I see heaven being all abuzz as it had been ever since it had happened. Heaven had seen God do some amazing things over the years but never had heaven seen anything like this. Never had the power and the grace and the love of God flowed out in such excess; never had there been such rejoicing and such praising and such singing, not even when Abraham and Moses and David had come home. They had heard Satan’s screams claiming that it was unfair; that had been fun. All that remained now was the human reaction. People were so unpredictable. As Mary Magdalene arrived at the tomb, I can imagine Michael nudging Gabriel in the angelic equivalent of his ribs and saying the angelic equivalent of, “Wait for it.”
We don’t know what Mary’s immediate reaction was. Did she cry out? Did she have to catch her breath? This much we do know. Things started to happen. She ran to tell, rushing to find Peter and the Beloved Disciple to give them the only report that made sense to her: “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” Blood was starting to pump again. Peter and the Beloved Disciple got into a foot race to the tomb, the other disciple arriving first and looking in but not entering, Peter arriving second but went into the tomb first. The Beloved Disciple “believed,” we are told, so something was beginning to dawn on him. Yet, shockingly (at least I am shocked), “the disciples returned to their homes” (v. 10). Maybe they needed to contemplate. Maybe they were still confused. But they wouldn’t stay at home for long.
Mary, on the other hand, remained at the tomb, weeping. She continued to grieve over what she presumed to be the fact that Jesus’ body had been taken. Mary’s a good role model for us here. Utterly confused but absolutely devoted, she hung in there and kept asking her question. She asked the angels whom she apparently didn’t recognize as angels. She asked Jesus whom she clearly didn’t recognize as Jesus; she thought he was the gardener. All she wanted to know was where the body of her Lord had been taken. Finally, when Jesus called her by name, she realized that his body had been taken right out of the jaws of death and right out of the grip of despair and right out of the clutches of defeat. And in that incredible moment when Jesus called her by name and she called him by name, thereby establishing the first personal relationship between the risen Lord and a believer, everything changed. For Jesus’ disciples, despair would give way to hope, fear would give way to courage, failure would give way to restoration, and misunderstanding would give way to clarity.
Why? Because death had given way to life. Because when Jesus rose from the dead and entered into a personal relationship with his disciples as the resurrected Lord his life became available to them in a new way. Before long we’ll arrive at the Day of Pentecost and we’ll see again the empowerment of the church by the Holy Spirit, an empowerment that is still ours today. When Jesus rose from the dead that Sunday morning, in a very real way his disciples rose from the dead, too. Their dead faith rose, their dead hopes rose, their dead dreams rose—and they had risen to a new and better life because now they understood that Jesus was in fact the Messiah through whom God’s great victory had been won.
I’m not much on trying to argue with someone over the reality of the resurrection. I believe with all my heart that I have a personal relationship with the risen Lord and that by grace through faith he is present in my life and that he will never leave me or forsake me. Still, if I were looking for something with which to prove the resurrection of Christ, I would point to the disciples. What could have possibly transformed that rag-tag, scared, clueless, hopelessly inconsistent gang of misfits into a force that literally, in just a few decades and along with Paul and others, spread their faith across the known world? What could have changed those disciples who fled when Jesus was arrested into people who would gladly give their lives in service to their Lord? Nothing explains it like the resurrection of Christ. Nothing else could have changed them so and given them such singleness of vision and such clarity of purpose. Nothing else could have given them such a life.
Do you know the resurrected Lord today? He is the life that you need. You can live as God intends for you to live; in Christ God will work to make you everything that God intends for you to be. In Christ God will forgive you of your sins, set you down right in the middle of eternal life, and give you comfort and strength beyond your wildest imagination. But he will also give you a life of purpose. He will give you the willingness and the desire and the gifts to be what he needs you to be in his kingdom. If you do know the Lord, if you are a believer, then I want you to ask yourself these questions. Are you really living? Are you being open to all that God wants you to be and do?
When Jesus rose from the dead he brought life to his followers, too. Holy Week lingers when we live …
Most of us have been there. Someone we love has died. The burial has taken place and we are still in that state of shocked numbness. The day after the burial, the first day that our loved one’s body lies in the grave, is a long and dark day. Maybe a lot of our family and friends have dispersed, returning necessarily to the routines of their lives. Or maybe a few are hanging in there with us for one more day, hoping against hope that they can do something to help.
The Saturday that Jesus’ body was in his tomb was such a day. The disciples huddled in hidden rooms, no doubt wondering if they might be next. Jesus’ followers were understandably crushed. As the travelers on the Road to Emmaus told the man who walked with them on Easter Evening, a man who was in fact the resurrected Christ, “we had hoped that he was the one who was to redeem Israel.” Was he just another of those messianic pretenders that came along with great regularity in Israel? Was he just another rabbi whose sense of calling led him to go too far? Maybe none of us know what it is to give yourself over completely to a person or to a cause and then to become disillusioned by the reality. But that was where the disciples may have found themselves.
Maybe they should have seen what was coming. Jesus had certainly given them hints and a couple of times had actually come right out and said it. But I think that we don’t want to be too hard on the disciples. After all, it’s not the kind of thing that you grasp readily. Furthermore, it’s not as if we are all today living the kinds of lives that you would expect someone to live who has met a resurrected Savior and whose life is lived in the light of that resurrection. It ought to make quite a difference, you would think.
So it came to pass that Mary Magdalene, whose life had been transformed by the grace of Jesus, went in what we can imagine to be great sorrow and great grief to visit the tomb of her teacher. It was still dark, John tells us, and in the dark is where Mary was in more ways than one. I imagine it as a quiet morning, the pall of Friday’s tragedy still hanging over the land, the birds trying as hard as they could to pierce the gloom with their songs, the sun stubbornly insisting on shining and thus forcing the world to go on. Through the darkness she trudged, her head held down. Lifting her eyes as she arrived at the tomb, she saw something she had not expected to see—the stone had been rolled away.
If you’ll allow me a little imagination here, I see heaven being all abuzz as it had been ever since it had happened. Heaven had seen God do some amazing things over the years but never had heaven seen anything like this. Never had the power and the grace and the love of God flowed out in such excess; never had there been such rejoicing and such praising and such singing, not even when Abraham and Moses and David had come home. They had heard Satan’s screams claiming that it was unfair; that had been fun. All that remained now was the human reaction. People were so unpredictable. As Mary Magdalene arrived at the tomb, I can imagine Michael nudging Gabriel in the angelic equivalent of his ribs and saying the angelic equivalent of, “Wait for it.”
We don’t know what Mary’s immediate reaction was. Did she cry out? Did she have to catch her breath? This much we do know. Things started to happen. She ran to tell, rushing to find Peter and the Beloved Disciple to give them the only report that made sense to her: “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” Blood was starting to pump again. Peter and the Beloved Disciple got into a foot race to the tomb, the other disciple arriving first and looking in but not entering, Peter arriving second but went into the tomb first. The Beloved Disciple “believed,” we are told, so something was beginning to dawn on him. Yet, shockingly (at least I am shocked), “the disciples returned to their homes” (v. 10). Maybe they needed to contemplate. Maybe they were still confused. But they wouldn’t stay at home for long.
Mary, on the other hand, remained at the tomb, weeping. She continued to grieve over what she presumed to be the fact that Jesus’ body had been taken. Mary’s a good role model for us here. Utterly confused but absolutely devoted, she hung in there and kept asking her question. She asked the angels whom she apparently didn’t recognize as angels. She asked Jesus whom she clearly didn’t recognize as Jesus; she thought he was the gardener. All she wanted to know was where the body of her Lord had been taken. Finally, when Jesus called her by name, she realized that his body had been taken right out of the jaws of death and right out of the grip of despair and right out of the clutches of defeat. And in that incredible moment when Jesus called her by name and she called him by name, thereby establishing the first personal relationship between the risen Lord and a believer, everything changed. For Jesus’ disciples, despair would give way to hope, fear would give way to courage, failure would give way to restoration, and misunderstanding would give way to clarity.
Why? Because death had given way to life. Because when Jesus rose from the dead and entered into a personal relationship with his disciples as the resurrected Lord his life became available to them in a new way. Before long we’ll arrive at the Day of Pentecost and we’ll see again the empowerment of the church by the Holy Spirit, an empowerment that is still ours today. When Jesus rose from the dead that Sunday morning, in a very real way his disciples rose from the dead, too. Their dead faith rose, their dead hopes rose, their dead dreams rose—and they had risen to a new and better life because now they understood that Jesus was in fact the Messiah through whom God’s great victory had been won.
I’m not much on trying to argue with someone over the reality of the resurrection. I believe with all my heart that I have a personal relationship with the risen Lord and that by grace through faith he is present in my life and that he will never leave me or forsake me. Still, if I were looking for something with which to prove the resurrection of Christ, I would point to the disciples. What could have possibly transformed that rag-tag, scared, clueless, hopelessly inconsistent gang of misfits into a force that literally, in just a few decades and along with Paul and others, spread their faith across the known world? What could have changed those disciples who fled when Jesus was arrested into people who would gladly give their lives in service to their Lord? Nothing explains it like the resurrection of Christ. Nothing else could have changed them so and given them such singleness of vision and such clarity of purpose. Nothing else could have given them such a life.
Do you know the resurrected Lord today? He is the life that you need. You can live as God intends for you to live; in Christ God will work to make you everything that God intends for you to be. In Christ God will forgive you of your sins, set you down right in the middle of eternal life, and give you comfort and strength beyond your wildest imagination. But he will also give you a life of purpose. He will give you the willingness and the desire and the gifts to be what he needs you to be in his kingdom. If you do know the Lord, if you are a believer, then I want you to ask yourself these questions. Are you really living? Are you being open to all that God wants you to be and do?
When Jesus rose from the dead he brought life to his followers, too. Holy Week lingers when we live …
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)