Video meditation created for First Presbyterian Church of Jesup
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New Testament Lesson: John 20:19-31
April 27, 2014, First Presbyterian Church of Jesup
Biblical Storyteller, Casey FitzGerald presents John 20:19-31:
How do we wrap our minds around all the things that we’re told Jesus is capable of? How do we believe in all that Jesus was and continues to be without piecemeal-ing out what is easy to accept from what seems impossible?
In our scripture today we’re told that the disciples hid behind locked doors and Jesus showed up, unbound by strict physics or locked doors. Scripture tells us that the disciples were hiding in fear of the Jews, a strange thought because they themselves were Jewish, as was their Lord, Jesus. Some have even suggested that they were hiding behind that door out of fear of Jesus himself. That they were afraid of how Jesus would confront them after their Maundy Thursday and Good Friday desertions.
Jesus comes into their fear, into their mourning, and says “peace be with you.” As became a pattern throughout his ministry, Jesus was acting in an entirely unexpected way. They were anticipating confrontation, vengeance, at the very least deep sadness. But instead Jesus comes in peace. Peace is an interesting way to respond to people whose inaction caused violence against you. The disciples we certainly shocked by Jesus’ presence and perhaps even more so by his attitude. They were overcome with joy at having him among them again and spread this news to those who did not experience Jesus face to face.
Thomas was not with them. Doubting Thomas, as he’s posthumously nicknamed, heard about Jesus’ post resurrection second hand, from the rest of the disciples. And Thomas responds saying, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”
Thomas cries out, “My Lord and my God!” and Jesus responds, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”
Because of this interaction, Thomas is chided throughout history for his need to see Jesus’ side.
It is a strange and jarring thought, that certainty could be counter to faith. However, faith isn’t faith without the conscious decision to be leaping out into what seems impossible and yet true.
I think Thomas should be commended for his honesty. Who of us is without any doubts? How many times have we all checked out when reciting creeds or prayers? Have you earnestly examined all it is that we say together? Do we believe what we profess?
Nadia Bolz-Weber is a Lutheran pastor from Denver that I feel blessed to have met a few times. She speaks in ways I find helpful about how it is we can all be filled with such doubt and yet still manage to come to church each week and recite the Apostles Creed without having our fingers crossed behind our backs. She says that the importance of worshipping in community is that when we’re unable to believe every bit of what we profess it’s okay, because we’re not trying to believe it on our own. While I might be struggling theologically with one thing and you might be struggling with another, we stand by each other, each reciting and believing on behalf of not only ourselves but also each other. When we find ourselves at the limits of our belief, the community believes for us.
One of the things that really stuck out for me from the text reading it this time around was the difference between what Thomas is looking for and what the disciples are shown. The disciples are happy to know that Jesus is alive. They are relieved that he is back among them and that he comes professing peace rather than judgment. For Thomas, this is not quite what he was looking for.
Though the disciples are happy he’s alive, Thomas also needs to know that he was dead. He’s not just looking for evidence of Jesus living; he’s looking for evidence of resurrection. Like many literalists we may known in our own lives, Thomas has an intensity to experience resurrection not only with his eyes, but with his touch. Educational theorists will affirm that different people learn in different ways. According to Howard Gardner’s theory of multiple intelligences, Thomas would be categorized as a bodily kinesthetic, visual learner.
By putting his hand in Jesus’ side, the resurrection story becomes more than a story to Thomas, it becomes a reality. Jesus says to Thomas, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”
Yes, we are blessed by faith without tangible evidence, but our faith gains a greater depth when we do experience Christ in our midst. We may not ever get the chance to touch Jesus in the flesh, but we all have our own experiences of God in this world: in the intensity of a newborn’s eyes blinking newly into the world, in the great expanses of oceans teeming with life seen and unseen, in the love of one another. We’re all given experiences of God’s presence among us, and our faith is strengthened for them.
It’s important to notice that though Thomas is seen as unbelieving this doesn’t make Jesus mad or frustrated. Rather, Jesus comes to him, provides his exposed side for Thomas’ inspection. Jesus isn’t trying to keep at a distance to test Thomas, but rather makes himself known completely, providing evidence of his death and resurrection. Might Jesus also be seeking to do this for us?
What evidence are you looking for in this world? Or haven’t you bothered to look? What evidence of resurrection have you experienced? How can you share your experiences with God for others to touch and hold near?
In your doubting, may you draw Jesus near, expecting God’s presence and power in this world and beyond. Amen.
Video Shown After Sermon:
I realized the other day that I’ve been a fan of Brian Andreas work for ten years now. I first came across his art in a book of his when I was on a family vacation to Mackinaw Island, MI. I picked up the book in a shop and just kept laughing and nodding at all of the stories. They seemed to give context to a lot of emotions that I couldn’t quite figure out how to put into words on my own. Over the years these stories have colored my life with their cleverness, wit, and honesty. While I could share meaningful Story People stories all day long, I figured a good tribute to Brian Andreas would be to share a handful of stories that portray parts of my own theology, that is how I understand God and God’s relationship with us. Four out of the six of these decorate the walls of my church office. Rather than explain my own understanding of each of these, I welcome you to read them yourself, to let them sit with you for a while and soak in. I pray they will bless you as they have blessed me.
“Can You Believe It?”
April 20, 2014, First Presbyterian Church of Jesup
Easter morning growing up I remember waking up early, my often-groggy eyes opening excitedly in the anticipation of what was to come. Then my sister and I would wake our parents and rush them downstairs so we could see what the Easter bunny had brought for us. We were excited because to us Easter meant baskets and chocolate and home sewn often-matching Easter dresses. Over the years we celebrate Easter in a variety of locations, from my grandparents house in Chattanooga, TN, to Florida on a spring break vacation, own home, but each time the routine was similar, the feeling was similar: joy, anticipation, and family.
Two thousand years ago, the first Easter held a very different feeling: sadness, fear, and grief. We are told was early in the morning, the day after the Sabbath, and Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome went to the tomb where Jesus was laid. They likely walked slowly in the morning light, united in the grief that things would never be the same with this Jesus they had all followed, they had all loved. They brought with them spices for anointing Jesus’ body, which meant of course that they were expecting a body. They were coming as they likely had to so many other gravesides, to do the dirty work of grief, washing, anointing, preparing. They were worried about the logistics: who would roll away the tomb, how would they draw close to their beloved Jesus?
They were coming for a funeral, a memorial. What they found was an entirely different scene.
They approach the tomb and there they find the stone had already been rolled away. At this point I would imagine their adrenaline would kick in, wondering who else could be there, what their motivations were for rolling back that stone. Were they friends or would they wish these women harm?
They were expecting death and found resurrection! They were expecting to see brokenness and saw holiness. It was a shocking sight!
The man says to them, “Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.”
When you approached the church today, this Easter morning, what did you come expecting? That Easter morning 2000 years ago they were expecting brokenness, they had come in grief. Why aren’t we all dressed in black? We’re here remembering the life of Jesus, right?
Well, actually we’re here for much more than that. We’re not dressed for a funeral, because that is not what we’re expecting. Many of us are wearing bright colors, new dresses and ties, colors of Spring, of new life. We have confidence in something more than the death that the women of the Easter morning were expecting, we’ve drawn close to the tomb, not expecting brokenness, but expecting healing. We’ve come expecting not death but resurrection!
What an incredible thing! Can you believe it?! Can you?
If you’re anything like the disciples, an honest answer might be “no.”
Let’s be honest with one another this Easter morning, it’s easier to show up in this story after God has already worked out all of this gritty and awful crucifixion business and everything is all grace filled and new life and resurrection. It’s harder to walk with Christ every single day of our lives. It’s harder to come to church on an ordinary Sunday without trumpets and lambs and lilies and the palpable feel of new life.
We are so much like the disciples, ignoring Jesus when it’s inconvenient, only making time for worship in the extraordinary moments of life. We need to be prompted by angels and miracles to remember the magnitude of our great God. We have no problem coming into God’s presence for weddings, funerals, Christmas, Easter, when we know what God’s story holds for us, but aren’t quite so sure what God has to do with us in the in between times. God has so much going on, God couldn’t possibly care about our day-to-day. When there’s nothing special to ask for or celebrate, God still wants to be with us, to remain in relationship with us in the mundane, so that we will trust in God’s faithfulness when things do get rough and complicated.
Why could none of the disciples stay awake through the night of Maundy Thursday with their Lord, Jesus? Where were these disciples when the crowds were shouting, “crucify him?” Why do the disciples scatter into the darkness of Good Friday? Why do we all gather today when the crucifixion and resurrection has all played out?
We would love to keep the darkness of those three days in the tomb at a distance, because perhaps then we might be able to ignore our own darkness. We don’t often live our lives expecting angels to show up in the places of our deep sorrow and point to the emptiness where our pain has been and trust that God’s grace has now taken root there. It’s easy to put on a white dress and a bright colored cardigan and to enjoy spring flowers coming to bloom in gardens, but it is very hard to accept the newness of life that God desires to spring inside of us.
What is the darkness in your life that you’re spending your time and energy mourning? What would it be like to invite God’s resurrection hope into your hidden pain? What would it be like to accept that there’s an angel sitting in the place of your darkest fears sending you out into the light to share the hope of resurrection?
Three times in our passage today we are told that the disciples would not believe that Jesus was living again after his death. Three times they are unable to accept that what Jesus had been telling them all along was the truth: that He was the Son of God. That He had come to bring about the Kingdom of God. That they would take part in building the Kingdom of God to come.
If the story had ended at cross, there might’ve been hope of these disciples being off the hook for bring about the whole “thy Kingdom come,” aspect of how Jesus had taught them to pray. If Jesus were simply a man, simply a great teacher who lived an exemplary life, and then died, there wouldn’t be much work for the disciples after his death. For what would this story matter if Jesus wasn’t what He said He was, if their Jesus, wasn’t actually the Christ? It would just be a story of another man with good intentions, who did some nice things for some people who were down on their luck.
But the story does not end at the cross, nor does it end in the tomb. The tomb is empty, Jesus is resurrected, and the story continues on. Through the disciples, we’ve all come to know the hope of resurrection: that Christ took on the sorrow of the world on the cross, suffered through hell, so that we might share in Christ’s resurrection, so that we might live lives filled with the grace of God.
What is your response to this resurrection story? Can you believe it? And more than that, does it matter to you? Are you willing to allow God to roll away your stony thoughts of “having it all together,” and allowing him to free you from the tomb of your hidden darkness? It is my utmost hope and prayer that you will allow this story of grace to be much more than a story to you, that it might be a very real chance at new life. May all of us welcome Christ’s resurrection into our hearts, this Easter morning, and always! Amen.
April 17, 2014, First Presbyterian Church of Jesup
I think that this scripture should begin with a spoiler alert. It tells us from the very start that Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world. Like when my Dad asked why I was going to see the Titanic when I already knew the boat was going to sink, we’re all gathered here tonight to hear this text again, draw close to the story of Jesus’ last days, last supper, so many lasts.
When we think of it, the whole ebb and flow of the liturgical calendar doesn’t hold much in the way of surprises either. At Christmas we expect to hear about Mary’s pregnancy announced by Angels, the trip to Bethlehem, and Jesus’ birth attended by animals and shepherds. When we get into this season of Lent we expect to hear about Jesus’ time in the wilderness, the company of the disciples, Palm Sunday, the last supper, the crucifixion, and without any hesitance or surprise, we greet Easter morning secure in the knowledge that Christ will indeed be risen, and the tomb will be empty.
Even though we know how it’s going to end, we are drawn into the narrative of Jesus and his disciples, gathered at the table. It’s a common scene. They’ve been traveling with each other for a while now, accompanying Jesus as he speaks to crowds, brings healing, shares loaves and fish, turns tables, and challenges the establishment.
And now at this common table, Jesus begins washing their feet. Peter is uncomfortable with this act. It seems so out of line that Jesus would be the one to wash their feet. When he resists Jesus says, “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.” Peter balks at this and says “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!” Given the denials that are to come before the dawn, it seems like a bit of anticipatory guilt in the way Peter so heartily desires to be washed so that he might fully commune with Jesus. After he is done washing their feet he tells them that he has done this as an example to them, telling them that they will be blessed by the service they give to others.
It’s the end of the road for this band of followers, and Jesus knows that not one of them will last the night with their allegiance in check. Jesus being fully God knew every bit of what was to come, but also being fully human he was not immune to fear. Over the three years of Jesus’ ministry with his disciples he taught them a great many things and yet over and over again they showed through their actions that they didn’t quite get what was going on here. How could Jesus have full confidence that this band of misfits would carry his Good News into the entire world? But time was running out from what Jesus could teach them, and so he had to trust in the new beginning that would come from the ministry they had shared.
Roman Philosopher, Seneca is quoted as once saying, “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.” If you haven’t been studying Roman philosophy and that sounds familiar to you it might because it was quoted in the one hit wonder, “Closing Time,” by Semisonic. “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.”
After this meal of service, this night of betrayal, and the day of horror to follow, a new beginning was coming: the beginning of a world no longer beholden to death’s power, the beginning of a time when the disciples would be tested to share all they had learned from their brief but intense time in the presence of God’s incarnation. With God no longer dwelling on earth in the person of Jesus, God’s dwelling would need to take root in all who would come to believe. God’s kingdom would need to be brought by these confused, sometimes fickle, human disciples. What a message of hope that is for us, thousands of years later as we seek to know, follow, and share Christ with others.
We’ve heard it all before, and so often times we stop really listening to what all of this means, and what it could possibly have to do with us, here and now. Though our story doesn’t change, our response to it can. Will we let these words wash over from our comfortable view on the sidelines of salvation? Or will we take Jesus’s actions to heart, using our place at the table to welcome others, to invite them to the cleansing healing that we’ve found in the company of Christ? May you invite the presence of God in this world to begin again through you, this Holy Thursday and always. Amen.
Following my post “Folk/Indie/Bluegrass Holy Week Playlist” from last year, here are some of the songs that have been buzzing around my brain this Holy Week. They’re not all direct reflections of the gospel, but for me have evoked the emotions of what this week is about. I hope they might bring similar reflection for you:
“The Passover Song” by Sean Carter and Caroline Cobb
“In the morning we will rise,
Taste the freedom we thought we’d never find.
We will dance now in the streets.
Once held captive now we will live as Kings.”
In the Garden
“The Once and Future Carpenter” by the Avett Brothers
“Forever I will move like the world that turns beneath me
And when I lose my direction I’ll look up to the sky
And when the black cloak drags upon the ground
I’ll be ready to surrender, and remember
We’re all in this together
If I live the life I’m given, I won’t be scared to die”
“Be Still” by Holly Kluge
“Oh weary soul,
Come and sit for a while.
Stop runnin’ ’round,
Come and rest for a while.
Oh hurting heart,
Come and sit in my arms.
Stop tryin’ to hide, Come let me
heal you inside.”
“I Gave You All” by Mumford & Sons
“Close my eyes for a while
And force from the world a patient smile
But I gave you all
I gave you all
I gave you all”
“Death or So You Think,” by Von Strantz
“The days are short,
running out of time…
gather round your loved ones,
kiss them goodbye…
love release our souls.”
In the Tomb
“Here Lies Love” by David Byrne & Fatboy Slim
“Is it a sin to love too much?
Is it a sin to care?
I do it all for you
How can it be unfair?
I know that when my number’s up
When I am called by God above
Don’t have my name inscribed into the stone
Here lies love…here lies love…here lies love—
Here lies love…here lies love…here lies love—”
“Night Must End” by Sleeping at Last
“There’s something about sadness
that leaves us wanting more
A sickness that breathes…
From holding on to letting go,
The change is like dying.”
Psalm 118:1-2, 19-29
April 13, 2014, First Presbyterian Church of Jesup
I remember as a kid, reading the Palm Sunday scripture and acting this out, walking up and down the aisle of First Presbyterian Church of Maumee, Ohio, waving our palms. “Hosanna, hosanna, hosanna!” Not knowing the word, “hosanna,” I was taught that it was similar to shouts of “hurray” or “yay” or “welcome.”
When I later learned what all was going on in this Holiest of weeks, I was confused. In Holy week Jesus comes to Jerusalem, but it is not all a party. He is walking towards the place where he will be hurt, where he will be mocked, the place where he will die on a cross.
We’re told that the crowds shouted “Hosanna,” and we think of this as a shout of excitement and joy. It was that to be sure, but the actual word carries a bit more with it.In the Hebrew it means, “save us.” “Save us!” they cry.
They were excited that this Jesus they’d heard about was coming into their town, but it was more for their own sake than out of praise. They were excited for salvation and redemption, not knowing exactly how all of that would play out, but knowing that Jesus’ presence was for their benefit. He came to give us the final pieces of the story of a baby conceived by the Holy Spirit, born in manger, who lived a rabble-rousing yet sinless life. He came to fulfill prophecy.
When we read through the Old Testament prophecies we have the 20/20 hindsight to know how the story turned out, to know that they were pointing to Jesus, to know what the “festal branches” in the scripture we read today meant. But what if we didn’t know those things, how then would we read this scripture today?
“O give thanks to the Lord, for he is good, his steadfast love endures forever!” This phrase is so important to the composer of the Psalm that it’s at both the beginning and the end of our passage. “Love enduring forever,” is quite the claim. Especially when we know how the story plays out.
“Forever,” means that God’s love endures through all the crowds of Palm Sunday and the crowds of Good Friday. “Forever,” means that God is present even when God’s own son asks, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
Reading our Psalm is a bit odd too in the way that it speaks in past tense in a scripture we’ve be taught is about Jesus. The psalmist says, “The stone that the builders rejected has become the chief cornerstone.” The stone that the builders already rejected has already become the chief cornerstone. While we know that Jesus is that cornerstone, this Psalm was written hundreds and hundreds of years before Holy Week. But that’s the thing with prophecy: it’s outside of time. It is important to know that Jesus’ rejection was part of the plan from the beginning, that God knows what God is doing, and that God’s love is enacted even in this strange and heartbreaking plan. After all, God’s love endures forever.
Jesus came into the crowds on a donkey, preaching messages counter to what all the religious authorities deemed decent and orderly. He didn’t seem important or respectable, just another radical to be brought down. Even those who were expecting a messiah, would’ve agreed that this Jesus of Nazareth wasn’t exactly who they were looking for. We know that Jesus was perfect, but even in heavenly perfection, Jesus did not fit the earthly expectations for a King and savior.
Jesus didn’t fit into the religious authorities’ building plan for God’s kingdom, but fit precisely into God’s own plan. Jesus remains unquestionably central to the action of God, in our experience and in the future of the church. Through this God shows us that however we attempt to package and manufacture salvation, salvation is always through God’s perfect design.
This prophecy of a cornerstone is in the Psalms where we read it today as well as in Isaiah. Isaiah 28: 14-17 speaks of the promises of death and the promises of God. The scripture says, “Therefore hear the word of the LORD, you scoffers who rule this people in Jerusalem. Because you have said, “We have made a covenant with death, and with [hell] we have an agreement; when the overwhelming scourge passes through it will not come to us; for we have made lies our refuge, and in falsehood we have taken shelter”; therefore thus says the Lord GOD, See, I am laying in Zion a foundation stone, a tested stone, a precious cornerstone, a sure foundation: “One who trusts will not panic.” And I will make justice the line, and righteousness the plummet; hail will sweep away the refuge of lies, and waters will overwhelm the shelter.”
In the time of Isaiah the people of Jerusalem made a covenant with death, by seeking protection from what was not God. God offers the more reliable foundation of salvation through Jesus Christ, one who will come to live beyond the grave. The people can’t fathom such a salvation so they were more inclined to put their trust in that which they have seen, asking for protection from the systems of this world.
Before we judge these people too harshly let’s think a bit about our own lives. When you think about your life, where are the places where you feel insecure, and not quite whole? What do you think it would take to make you feel that wholeness? Perhaps if you were just able to lose that weight, buy that car, meet that perfect person, have that child, you might feel whole. Chasing after our perceived inadequacy and looking for the affirmations of this world is not what God wants for us.
In 1 Corinthians 3:10-11 we read, “According to the grace of God given to me, like a skilled master builder I laid a foundation, and someone else is building on it. Each builder must choose with care how to build on it. For no one can lay any foundation other than the one that has been laid; that foundation is Jesus Christ.”
What is your foundation? What unstable parts might need to be reinforced or replaced? What is making you stumble as you work to build your life and God’s kingdom?
In Matthew 21:42-46 we read Jesus quoting our Psalm from today, “Jesus said to them, “Have you never read in the scriptures: ‘The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; this was the Lord’s doing, and it is amazing in our eyes’? Therefore I tell you, the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people that produces the fruits of the kingdom. The one who falls on this stone will be broken to pieces; and it will crush anyone on whom it falls.” When the chief priests and the Pharisees heard his parables, they realized that he was speaking about them. They wanted to arrest him, but they feared the crowds, because they regarded him as a prophet.”
Jesus tells us that God’s kingdom came for people who were not just looking to their own interests, and to their own salvation, but to those seeking to multiply the kingdom, a fruitful people who were looking to allow Christ to be a cornerstone in all that they are doing, relying not on their own strength, but on his.
In Ephesians 2:13, 19-22 we read, “Now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ… you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone. In him the whole structure is joined together and grows into a holy temple in the Lord; in whom you also are built together spiritually into a dwelling place for God.”
Jesus was that cornerstone, that last missing piece to salvation, showing us how to live through his life, showing us life beyond our own through his death and resurrection. Jesus was God’s dwelling place on this earth, and empowered us to allow God to dwell in us as well. Jesus came so that this story would not end with his death or with ours. As we enter this Holiest of Weeks, may we look not to our own inadequacies, but to the abundant sufficiency of Jesus, the cornerstone of our faith. Amen.
Time for a reblog!
Here are some of the songs that have been buzzing around my brain this Holy Week. They’re not all direct reflections of the gospel, but for me have evoked the emotions of what this week is about. I hope they might bring similar reflection for you:
“Passion Song” by Sean Carter
I was with him when he rode into town
And crowds gathered round him like a king
Their smiling faces, joined a sea of branches waving
Thou they were masquerading in the end
And my heart rose in my throat
When I heard them sing
Hosanna, in the highest
“Bread and Wine” by Josh Garrels
Of the places we left behind,
No longer yours and mine
But we could build a good thing here too
So give it just a little time,
Share bread and wine
Weave your heart into mine
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