Trust the Comma and the Gate

George Burns and Gracie Allen were one of the greatest comedic duos in history. They were inseparable on the radio, on stage, and on television. Their television show was on from 1950–1958. After having some heart trouble, Gracie decided to retire. George attempted the show without her for one year, but it didn’t work without Gracie. She died of a heart attack in 1964. When George went through her papers, he found a note she wrote to him, which included the line, “Never place a period where God has placed a comma.” Never place a period where God has placed a comma. George Burns took this reminder from his beloved that his life on earth wasn’t over yet. He went on to continue acting, directing, and writing until he died at the age of 100 in 1996, always missing Gracie, but continuing to truly live his own life. 

A reminder that came from deep love, even in grief, “Never place a period where God has placed a comma.”

In today’s reading from John, Jesus introduces us to a radical idea that echoes in Gracie’s note. He says, "My sheep hearmy voice." Notice the tense. He doesn't say the sheep heard the voice of God back in the days of the prophets, nor that they will only hear it in the life of the world to come. Jesus speaks in present tense and John preserves that tense. Jesus is speaking, the Creator is speaking, the Spirit is speaking. Right now. 

Often, the story of our faith can feel like something long ago and far away — a collection of periods and finished chapters. The saints, the apostles, the reformers, the mothers and fathers of our faith — they lived ages ago. We sometimes talk as though the "voice of God" is something confined to ancient parchment. 

But Jesus describes a living, breathing relationship, an active communication and calling. Jesus tells us that to be called His followers, his people, sheep of his fold, and lambs of his flock means to still be listening to his voice. To hear His voice today is to recognize that the Divine is still speaking. There is a voice of Love and grace that is louder and more persuasive than all our modern noise, but we must pay attention to how we’re tuned to hear it and listen. 

Jesus warns us about that modern noise, the misdirecting sounds, and loud untruths. He speaks of the thief who comes to "steal and kill and destroy." These thieves don't just try steal our peace; they try to steal our future by lying about God’s punctuation and our identity as valuable and treasured.

A thief is always a master of the premature period. They whisper:

"You've made too many mistakes; your story is over." (Period.)

"This sickness is the end of you." (Period.)

"You’ll never understand the Bible, so you should quit trying." (Period.)

“No one will believe you now, so you might as well keep lying.” (Period.)

“It doesn’t matter if you keep going. No one cares.” (Period.)

These voices try to convince us that the gate is locked, that our purpose has expired, or that God has stopped speaking. They want to trap you in a finished chapter, convincing you that there is no "next" in your walk with the Shepherd. But a voice that tells you God is done with you is never the voice of the Shepherd. You matter. Your presence matters. You are part of God’s beloved creation. And you are defined by God’s love for you, not anything you’ve done. A sentence is never too long for one more comma and a new clause in God’s handwriting. 

Jesus corrects the thief’s grammar by declaring, "I am the gate." In the life of a shepherd, the gate functions as a comma. It is not a wall; it is a point of transition that swings in both directions.

There are seasons when the world is too loud and predators are too close. The shepherd guides us through the valley, by still water, and into the gate to take refuge in the fold. Here, the comma represents a pause—a place of rest, healing, and protection. We find "pasture" for our souls.

But the sheep do not stay in the fold forever. Jesus says they “will come in and go out.” The gate swings outward. This is the comma of service. We are led out into the world to be the hands and feet of the Shepherd, witnessing the protection and provision that only come from love and care and a deep understanding of our continuing story. 

Jesus grants a powerful promise: "I have come that they may have life, and have it abundantly."

Abundant life, a life where we are followed constantly by goodness and mercy, is found in the rhythm of the gate—the "in and out" of a life led by His voice. When we try to place a period on our lives — deciding we are too old to serve, too broken to be used, or too comfortable to change — we miss the abundance.

Gracie Allen knew that even in grief, God wasn’t finished with George. Jesus proclaims that even in our failures or our fears, He isn't finished with us.

Reject and renounce the false periods that come from thieves, that diminish your worth, that make you feel small, that make you question God’s work in your salvation. Listen for the Shepherd’s voice. Look and listen for the signs and words of love. Let Christ draw you into the fold when you need rest, and follow Him out into the world where He leads you to mission. Trust the comma, trust the Gate, and live the life that is truly full.

Amen. 

Look up and Live (Sermon)

A Sermon for Holy Cross Day 
(Numbers 21;4b-9; 1 Corinthians 1:18-24; John 3:13-17)

Look up! Moses says to the snake bitten children of God. 
Look up and live! 

You are being poisoned by a false memory. The scars of the lashes of slavery are still with you, yet you want to remember the grimaces and call them smiles. 
Look up, cries Moses, look up at the truth. 
The truth of God’s provision, the truth of walking in freedom, the truth of hope – these truths are indeed a new landscape, but your eyes can adjust. Your body can adjust. Your breath can adjust. 
But for these truths to do their healing work, you must look up. 
Lift your eyes to the one who heals you, past the medicine in its curious form. Look to the One whose power is over you, whose love is around you, whose Divine desire is for your healing. 
Tell them to look up, says the Lord to Moses, to look up from their pain, to turn away from lies, to want healing as much as I, the Lord, want to heal. 

Look up! Moses says to the snake bitten children of God. 
Look up and live! 
 
Look up, says Jesus to the Pharisee Nicodemus, who crept in under the cover of darkness.
Look up and live! 

Like your ancestors, you are wandering, absorbed in memory of when things were better. A memory can deceive you, but the God who was with you then and is with you now will not. 
Look up, says Jesus, look up and see the Spirit, the breath of God. Perceive how the wind moves, even when you cannot see the force itself. 
Look up and be born again into a new hope, a renewed hope, a hope that demonstrates how God is still speaking. 
Your first birth brought you screaming into brightness. Look up, says the Christ, and know that the second birth, through water and Word, brings you into the brightness of eternal love. 
God so loves. God so loves. God so loves. The world, the cosmos, the height and depth and breadth, Nicodemus. God. So. Loves. 

Look up, says Jesus to the Pharisee who crept in under the cover of darkness. 
Look up and live! 
 
Look up, says Paul to the divided Corinthians, look up to the shape of your salvation. 
Look up and live. 

I know, my beloveds, writes the Apostle, that you long to seem wise. You want to be able to debate with clarity and rhetoric. What good is the gift of salvation, if you cannot shout down every opponent and watch their efforts burn with holy fire, like Elijah and the prophets of Baal. 
Look up to the cross, my Corinthian friends. The joy of our salvation does not lie in proof-texted arguments and quick comebacks, so valued by the powers of this world. The cross turns the world and its “wisdom” upside down. 
If the cross finds meaning in our boasting of our self-righteousness and superior claims to understanding, says Paul, then it has no meaning at all. 
Look up and remember the One who called down forgiveness, who welcomed sinners to paradise, who committed his life to the hands of the Father. Look up and see that it stands empty because neither God’s will nor God’s grace nor God’s plan for redemption can be nailed down and forced to conform to the expectations of this world. 

Look up, says Paul to the divided Corinthians, look up to the shape of your salvation. 
Look up and live. 
 
Look up, says the pastor to the weary soul, look up at the cross of Christ and remember that it is not your own. 
Look up and live. 

Like our siblings in the wilderness, we are snake-bit by false memories and misinformation. We callback a time of glory that never really was only because it wasn’t glorious for everyone. The gospel is only good news when it is good news for the whole creation. 
Look up, says the pastor, look up and learn from our human history, so that all may have cups that runneth over and tables prepared - not in the presence of enemies, but in the company of friends. 
Caught like Nicodemus in trying to sort out Jesus’ confusing words, we sometimes forget the clearest commands of our Savior. Look up, says the preacher, and remember the blessing that comes from peacemaking. Remember how the Savior is met in the hungry, sick, and lonely. Remember how to show mercy to your neighbor and go and do likewise. 
Look up and recall how God so loves and how the Son was sent not to condemn, but to rescue.
Look up, says the preacher, from the same news stories told the same way over and over, stirring up frustration that has nowhere productive to go. Look up from what you use to distract yourself- the thing that in the dark of the night makes you wish you spent your time or your money or your strength differently. 

Look up and consider that when Paul told the Corinthians to stop trying to do things in the way of the world, he then told them that the way of discipleship was one of love- patient, kind, not boastful or rude, no jealousy and no record-keeping of wrongs. 
Look up to the world of the Good Shepherd around you, the blessings of your Creator, the consolation and encouragement of the Holy Spirit. 
Look up and sing again the words of “Amazing Grace”. 
Look up and remember that when we say, “God so loves”- this means you. For you. For you. For you. 
Look up and know that nothing is inevitable except the grace of God. No powers of this world, no spiritual forces, no human mistakes can derail God’s ultimate desire for reformation, restoration, and resurrection. Look up and know that nothing is inevitable except the grace of God.

You have been equipped for living a life of hope amidst doubt, possibility amidst fear, and love amidst violence, for unity amidst division. 

You have been equipped for living for Christ, living abundantly. 

Look up, says the pastor to the weary soul, look up at the cross of Christ and remember that it is not your own. 
Look up and live. 
 

Into Our Blind Spot

Fourth Sunday in Easter

John 10:1-10

It is a dangerous thing to preach about sheep to people who know more about sheep that you do. I’m not quite that dumb. I have nothing to say about ranching, sheering, lambing, or butchering. I won’t offer comment on fodder, spacing, or breeds. I do have a comment on sheep physiology, though. Even that is risky, but I did a lot of research (science reading, not theological) and I did attempt to talk to a couple people about my questions. 

Sheep have excellent vision- in their peripherals. Due to having eyes on the side of their heads, they can see things sneaking up on them from the right, left, and behind. This is called monocular vision, which means each eye has its own field of view and the eyes do not share a field of view. Binocular vision, what humans have, is when both eyes receive the same information at the same time- in the best of circumstances. 

Due to monocular vision, sheep can see to their sides and when they lower their heads to graze, they can see very well around them. However, monocular vision does sacrifice depth perception. This means sheep can have a small blind spot right in front of them, when their heads are raised. You may observe this if you see a sheep run into the fence instead of going through the empty gate. 

The author of Psalm 23 spent enough time with sheep to be able to perceive some of these realities of sheep physiology. Guiding sheep to green pastures not only meant taking sheep to fresh graze, but also guiding them over changes in terrain that might make them balky. Leading them beside still waters meant bringing them to safe places to drink. In a desert climate, stagnant water could create illness. A still pond, perhaps fed by a stream, could help thirsty sheep, but they might need to be watched if it was a deep pool. 

Monocular vision offers safety in the periphery, but as sheep evolved superior vision from side to side- they sacrificed vision that looks up. Since sheep have been domesticated for thousands of years, sheep haven’t often needed to look up into trees to watch for predators. Shepherds do that. This means that traveling through a valley needs the shepherd to be with the sheep because the sheep are not able to look up at the terrain where threats might be present. 

Shepherds were used as a metaphor for good kings in the Hebrew scriptures (Old Testament). Shepherds cared for an important resource- sheep. Shepherds provided for the needs of the sheep, kept them safe, and guided them through all kinds of weather and terrain. Thus, these seemed like transferable characteristics for a good king. This meant that the king’s people, then, became synonymous with sheep. While this metaphor has often meant associating people with the worst (often imagined) qualities of sheep, the whole purpose of the comparison was about the king, not the people. 

Jesus as the Good Shepherd, then, is not about us as sheep, but about who He is and what he does. We have binocular vision- seeing ahead of us. Yet, we also have a blind spot there. We do not know the future. Rather, we have to trust the shepherd who provides for our needs, guides us to safety, and accompanies us through treacherous times and places. This same shepherd seeks us out when we stray and guides us back to the fold. 

Trusting in Jesus’ voice and his provision is what it means to have abundant life. Unfortunately, many of us like the idea of trusting, but find the execution difficult. Following Jesus into our blind spot definitely means acknowledging that we are not in control. 

When we instead look to the sides, where there are many temptations, or back, to what we knew before, it is very tough to move forward in faith. Thus, the Church and church people often intellectualize faith- making it about “believing” the right things, meaning knowing the right information in your head. Jesus, however, has never described faithfulness in this way. Particularly in the Fourth Gospel (John), faith equals abiding with Jesus. This means pitching your tent in Jesus’ campsite and following his rules. It also means recognizing that the ways of the world do not offer you the abundant life- peace, joy, and grace- that can only come from the Good Shepherd who provides for your needs. 

In this time of change and stress, what we can see to the sides and behind us is often far more appealing that the unknown future. We are tempted by voices that promise things that seem to give a better sense of control or offer choices that open doors we wish weren’t closed. If we wish to be disciples of Jesus, to be the sheep of His flock, then we must weigh these voices against His voice. We must carefully compare what they offer us against what our good Shepherd offers. 

This way of living can be tough. It may put us at odds with others in our family, in our community, even in our church. Yet no one else in these settings offers us what Jesus does- provisions, safety, accompaniment, and guidance in all situations. The leading we need- into the blind spot of the future- should only be entrusted to a Shepherd who is willing to die for us (and who already has). 

Amen.