Here's What I'd Say

“Here is what I would say to you if it wouldn’t hurt your feelings.” This is a popular construct right now in social media posts and in short-form publishing. The set-up is usually a specialist from a medical field or an expert in a given research field, appealing to the viewer to consider an idea or ideas in a different light. “Here is what I would say if it wouldn’t hurt your feelings.” The posts are an effort to counteract “general wisdom” or “accepted knowledge” and to present additional information and research that may lead to a better health outcomes or improved quality of life.

Each time I see it, I consider what my video would be. How would I complete the premise, “Here is what I would say if it wouldn’t hurt your feelings.” Contrary to popular belief, I do try to be gentle in teaching and, most of the time, in preaching. Harshness gains no ground for the gospel. I do pull some punches.

So, should I do it? Should I say the thing that I desperately want you to hear? To understand? To ponder in your heart, turning it over and over until it becomes a smooth touchstone?

Here is what I would say if it wouldn’t hurt your feelings: we don’t have enough imagination about God.

We don’t think big enough. We don’t let enough things be awesome and mysterious. We don’t sit in our questions long enough. We do not imagine a great enough mercy, an amazing enough grace, a broad enough welcome, a long enough table with more than enough seats.

We sing about it, but then let it go, fading with the music. We dream about it but then make the shape of our church life what it has always been, instead of trying something new- rooted in the dream. We pray for it but then do not act- as though prayers are only about words and not equally about deeds.

Here is what I would say if it wouldn’t hurt your feelings: we don’t have enough imagination about God.

What do I mean by that?

In today’s gospel reading, we have one of the “seven last words of Christ”. These are the phrases that Jesus says from the cross, recorded across the four gospels.

All seven are: “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do”, “Woman, behold your son. Son, behold your mother”, “I thirst”, “Why have you forsaken me”, “Today you will be with me in paradise”, “Into your hands, I commit my spirit”, and “It is finished”.

Why would any of these be chosen for Christ the King Sunday? How do any of these fit in with the broad understanding of the Reign of Christ, particularly in the face of nationalism and secularism, which are why this day was established in 1925? Why, especially, would the chosen “word” be the ones said to a criminal, deemed worthy of the death penalty by an occupying army?

And what does this have to do with having more imagination about God?

You ask good questions.

Of the seven last words, “Today you will be with me in paradise” are the only ones that can actually be said by the Son of God. I am not saying these are the only words of Jesus. What I am saying is that the other six could be said by anyone, anywhere, including any king or ruler.

“I thirst”, “Woman, behold your son”, and “Why have you forsaken me” are all very human statements in the face of torture and death. To be worried about the care of a survivor or to experience bodily need when in pain can happen to anyone. They both do all the time. Feeling a separation from God, despite knowing the closeness of the Divine, is a reality we all know. This is why we resonate with Jesus’ anguish in that cry.

“Into your hands, I commit my spirit” and “It is finished” are the utterances of any person, regardless of power, who has come to peace with the end of their life in this plane and who is accepting of what is to come. Sometimes these words are said with the lips and sometimes they are spoken in the heart.

“Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.” This one feels more specific to Jesus. Yet, anyone who hopes for another person to experience the grace of God can pray this. A benevolent leader can pray this. A suffering martyr can pray this. We can pray this while watching or reading the news. Jesus gives us the words and permission to refer to Infinite Love as our Holy Parent.

The only word from the cross that could only come from the Son of God is “Today you will be with me in paradise”. This word of consolation and hope can only be uttered by One who absolutely knows where He will be and where the other person will be as well.

In the middle of great suffering, while experiencing pain and humiliation, Jesus has the capacity to see and perceive the deepest need of the man next to him, a man who undergoing the same pain and humiliation. And it is Jesus alone who has the authority to declare what will happen next. “Today you will be with me in paradise” is not a statement of faith from his lips; it is statement of fact.

This is why we have this reading today for the observance of Christ the King. We can be easily distracted by the way human beings throw around their earthly power. We can be razzle dazzled and misled. We can also be fooled by how leaders can manipulate us with pockets of awareness or humility, while calculating political points.

King Jesus, hanging on a cross, does many human things, but also does a thing only God can. Jesus alone moves us from life to life.

Today you will be with me in paradise. Not after your confirmation. Not after a sinner’s prayer. Not after a specific ritual. Not after you agonize over your worthiness and confess again and again and wonder if you’re really forgiven.

Today you will be with me in paradise.

And this brings me back to what I would say to you if it wouldn’t hurt your feelings.

We need to have a bigger imagination about God.

We need to think bigger. We need to let more things be awesome and mysterious. We need to sit in our questions long enough. We need to imagine a great enough mercy, an amazing enough grace, a broad enough welcome, a long enough table with more than enough seats. And we need to let that expansion fuel our life together and our life in the world.

When we nail God down to being about the success of our team- whether sports, political, or otherwise… When we box God in by our traditions and “the way it’s always been”… When we go through the motions of habits as though they are sufficient for spiritual practice…

When we confine the meaning of our faith in Jesus to being our “get out of hell free” card, he is not our king. He becomes no more than a token and our faith is nothing more than magical thinking.

But when we allow ourselves to truly be in awe of the majesty and might of God, when we permit ourselves to believe in One who could definitively say, without preconditions, “Today you will be with me in paradise”, when we perceive the fire of the Spirit still burning in the world, still bringing order out of chaos, still causing scales to fall from eyes…

When we realize that we do not hold God, but that we are being held by God…

Then we will understand the reign of Christ:

we will know what it means to serve a king with joy and devotion,

we will no longer ask “who is my neighbor” because we will see all people as neighbor and sibling.

I don’t want to hurt your feelings. We don’t have enough imagination about God.

And the world that God so loves needs us to grasp that God’s facts- facts of justice, mercy, peace, inclusion, hope, and promises made and kept – God’s facts are bigger than anyone’s imagination.

When we realize that… that day will be paradise.

 

Longest Night

Candle [dry gouache] by Julia Seymour

Life begins in the dark. 

Seeds, babies, resurrection- new life starts unseen.

It is unseen, but not without a witness. 

Divine eyes of love perceive all things. 

We sometimes think of our grief, our doubt, our pain as kinds of darkness. 

In darkness, the light looks different. 

In the dark, we dig deep for what is true- giving hope, strength, and peace. 

In the dark, we move slowly, easing forward by degrees. 

Seasons of darkness can break our hearts, 

Seasons of darkness teach us lessons that shape our living. 

Some nights are longer than others, 

But dawn comes- and not through our work or goodness.

It is the goodness of God that lives in the dark and the light. 

It is the goodness of God that carries us through all seasons. 

In doubt and in faith, in grief and in joy, in pain and in wholeness, 

Life begins in the dark. Light begins in the dark. 

And, in the light or in the dark, you belong to God. 

We belong to God. 

Human Being

I have been thinking about getting a new tattoo for over a year. For a while, I thought
about the phrase I read in a book by Augusten Burroughs: “Harder is just harder”. I felt comforted at the idea that harder isn’t impossible, it’s just harder. However, the right time and place for that tat never materialized.

That idea faded when I came upon another phrase: fida et audax- faithful and bold. I loved the idea of this motto and it made me feel strong and courageous to imagine it on my wrist or on an ankle. This was my plan until about 3 weeks ago.

A variety of life events came to a culmination and I found that I was exhausted, frustrated, and tense. Overwhelmed by all things that seemed insurmountable, I marinated in the idea that in this intense time, I couldn’t “do” very much. All I could do was be.

Be.

I’m not very good at being. I am good at doing. I am good at thinking. I am okay at feeling, but I tend to put that aside for what I think I should do.

I went to visit a friend in New York. She was with me in 2005 when I got my first tattoo. Getting my second with her was a natural choice, but as I thought about what I wanted, I realized that I couldn’t get fida. That was about doing. It was about actions, resistance, and persistence. Those things are very important to me, but if I was getting a permanent reminder... I don’t need one for how to do, I need one for how to be.

Then I knew... I would get sola gratia- grace alone. One of the rallying cries of the reformations of the 16th century, this phrase grounds me not in my own doing, but in God’s doing. In light of God’s doing, my response is to be. Being beloved. Being saved. Being healed. Being welcomed. Being held. By grace alone. Not by my doing, my thinking, or my successes or failures.

By grace. Alone.

So now it is permanently inked into my wrist. It is a reminder that what I am, first and last, is God’s. Thus, whether I am trying the hard thing, the bold thing, the faithful thing... there is always time to still myself. To know I am loved. To be washed again in grace alone.

Dare I Ask (Dare! Dare!)

Maybe you have a question about one of these topics? 

I would like to emphasize how much I appreciate questions. As a pastor, questions help me to know how people are thinking around me. They point me to information that I might have that I could share. They provide a path for me to encourage discernment by and wisdom gathering in others.

I have previously answered questions here and here. These aren't two "good" questions. They were genuine questions that people asked of me and gave me time to ponder my answer.

Recently I did "Ask a Pastor Anything" or "Pastor in the Hot Seat" with a confirmation class. The group of 11-14 year (and a couple adults) asked the following questions:

- Were there any conflicts between people who believe in religion and people who believe in science? If so, what happened?

- What is theodicy?

- Could God have said things much differently and we misunderstood his teaching or mistranslated his ideas and, therefore, some things seen negatively could've been positive? (sic)

- What happens to people when they die?

- In Revelation, God speaks through John to tell us about the "overcomers" who rule/reign with Christ for a thousand years. Who are the "overcomers"?

- Is there resurrection for everyone?

- Have Lutherans ever tried to force their religion on other people, when they're missionaries or anything? (sic)

- Where did Jesus die?

- When was the Holy Bible made?

- Why should I care about being a Christian at all? What's in it for me? Why is this important?

- When were you baptized?

- The Bible says women should remain silent in church- why, then, do we ordain women?


These are good questions. Most of them reflect the internal struggles of the asker, but almost everyone present was curious about the answer. Perhaps you, too, are curious about some of the answers.

There's another "Ask a Pastor Anything" event coming up at Lutheran Church of Hope on Wednesday evening, 4 April (6:15 pm). In the meantime, you can always put a question in the comments or email one to me (lcohpastor@alaska.net). People at the event will have the benefit of being able to ask anonymously, but I never publish names with questions if you send one via email.

Jesus never punished anyone for asking questions. God encourages our desire for knowledge and understanding. The Spirit draws us together that we might learn from each other.

At the End (Prayer)

Holy One-

There came a time when Greece knew she was done. The lamp that was Rome blew out and was no more. The Holy Roman Empire had its days. Dynasties rise and fall- Jin, Tang, Ming. Shores are sheltered and then breached. The sun did set on the British Empire.

Photo by Julia (Dunlap) Seymour, Dec 2005

In the waning days, when those with power panicked at the grains slipping through their hands? What did You do, oh Lord? Did You watch, weeping and wrenched? Did You dispatch Jonah after Jonah, who fled again and again? When You cast your holy hand around- was all simply lukewarm, with all passion and abstinence spent and melded?

As the sunsets on empires deepened and the powerful reached out and began to increase the pain, increase the violence, increase the oppression- how did You brace the believers, the seekers, the uprights? Does the Spirit work overtime? Are additional angels dispatched? Is the meeting of the beloved more efficacious in this time?

I am not asking for a friend. I am not even asking on behalf of a country. It’s me, O Lord, standing in the need of this prayer. It’s me who sees the fade of an empire and the blood that is sweeping out the end of days of glory that were only ever really for some, never for all. It’s me who stands, impotently grieved, and wants to know: what did You do before, so I know how to look for it now?

The preservation of the faith tells me that You have acted in history. So what will it look like and how will I know? There are fights to fight, spoons to wield, forgiveness to seek, and reparations to be made. When the city on the hill shines its beacon into its own streets, strewn with bodies, there is nothing left but the cross, the community, and compassion, but we haven’t reached this level of acceptance. We aren’t there. We are still fighting as though there was a greatness to be achieved again. What never was, never will be.

If You had lapels, I would grasp them as I shout this prayer. If You were holding my hand, Your fingers would be pinched in my grip. If we were at coffee, I might have chipped the dish, setting the cup down a little too hard.

We need equipping for the last days of an empire. You have done it before. Do it now.

Seals.

Prayer originally written for and posted at RevGalBlogPals.org

Ask A Pastor Anything

In preparing for our church's booth for Anchorage Pridefest, we made this sign. It was meant to be more tongue-in-cheek than fundraiser. We laughed and even the church visitors who saw it chuckled.

Once it was out of the church building, though, it didn't get many laughs. In fact, it received a lot of frowns. "I have a question," one guy said. "But I don't want to pay." 

It occurred to me that many people who are outside of the church often assume the main motive of the church is to make money. We weren't winning friends here; we were ending conversations before they started.

I covered the "pricing" with paper and tape. Once all that could be seen was "Ask a Pastor Anything", the questions flowed. 

Today, I listened to the following questions, some accompanying stories, and did my best to represent a flawed institution and a perfect God.

What does faith mean to you?

What's a pastor?

Do I have to believe everything exactly right first?

How do I know if I am gay or straight?

Is there a trans-friendly church in Anchorage?

What do you think about hell?

How do I talk to my parents about who I am?

How do I let go of a hurtful past in the church?

How do I start to pray?

Who can help me with my housing situation?

How do I begin to hope again?

Do you have on-line services? 

Where are the porta-potties?

Will I ever feel at peace in a church again? 

With other people from Lutheran Church of Hope, we handed out stickers, apology cards, and bubbles. We listened, laughed, prayed, and represented. We said "I don't know" and "I am sorry" and "You are loved". 

Someone gave us a dollar. 

It was worth it. 

Do Not Test (Sermon)

Matthew 14:22-33

            What was Peter’s mistake in this passage? There’s a tendency to think that it is he becomes afraid and doubts. People like to say that if Peter had kept his eyes on Jesus, if he had kept the faith, he wouldn’t have sunk. Let’s think for a second about how that sounds to people we know who feel like they’re drowning in their circumstances, “If you keep your eyes on Jesus… if you just believe… don’t worry or be scared…”

            Those phrases make it sound like it is always your fault if you can’t keep your head above water. Sometimes our choices or other people’s choices cause us to falter, to sink, to become afraid. However, just because those things happen does not mean they are God’s will.

            Peter’s mistake happened before he even got out of the boat. In the ancient world up through the time of Christ and even into more recent history, the sea represents chaos. In Judaism and Christianity, the sea is a realm of unknown dark, wherein life disappears. The sea was unpredictable and could be confusing, defying patterns people learned to read. With this in mind, the sea becomes what only God can tame. Only God can bring order out of chaos and triumph over the unknown.

            When Jesus comes walking across the water, the writer of the gospel (Matthew) is creating a scene to help the reader understand that Jesus is God. Furthermore, when the terrified disciples see Jesus, but don’t know it is he; Jesus uses the words that echo the story of the burning bush. God spoke to Moses in Exodus from the burning bush, saying, “I am.” Jesus says exactly the same thing to the disciples, “I am. Do not be afraid.”

            With Jesus walking on top of the water, demonstrating control over chaos, AND using the words that would have been familiar to the disciples from a story they would have known well, it is clearly demonstrated that Jesus is God. God is present in Jesus. Me explaining all this to you is the set up to recognizing Peter’s mistake.

            While he is still in the boat, Peter says, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” If it is you… Peter is testing Jesus. Despite seeing and hearing things that Peter knows can only be true if Jesus is God, Peter decides to set up a test. Peter’s mistake is not when he becomes afraid or when he doubts or when he asks for help. His mistake is in testing what he already knows to be true about God. Just before this story in Matthew, Peter has been witness to the feeding of more than five thousand people through Jesus’ blessing and effort. This was certainly not the first miracle Peter witnessed nor was “I am” the first time that Jesus used words that echoed the words of God from Hebrew Scripture.

            But Peter tested him. Peter tested God. Rather than trusting the relationship he had with Jesus or relying on his own experience of God’s mercy, Peter pressed into asking Jesus to prove himself, as though he hadn’t ever done so before.

            What does this look like in our time? Surely we who are Easter people, who have heard of Jesus’ resurrection, his restoration to life from death, wouldn’t test God. Yet, in this day, it is not unusual to hear people who have been diagnosed with cancer to examine their faith. It is not far-fetched to hear abused women or children or isolated men to reflect on what they did wrong. It is not out of the ordinary to hear people assured that if they have maintained a relationship with God in exactly the right way, with precisely the right words, at the correct church, then surely they would not suffer. “If it be your will, O God…”

            We KNOW the will of God. It has been revealed to us through the life, teaching, healing, miracles, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. We know that God’s desire is for life, for mercy, for hope, for wholeness, for community, for relationship with every person and all creation. We know that there are forces that oppose God and try to interfere with those plans.

            Yet, the testing of God continues as though God had not shown these things to be true. In the midst of tragedy and chaos, wars and diseases, poverty and struggle, when we wonder why God doesn’t do something, we act as though it is God’s job to prove that God does not want these things to happen.

            Let me tell you definitively here and now, God does not want these things to happen. Jesus is the proof of that. The sustaining of the witness of the disciples by the Holy Spirit through two thousand years is additional confirmation. Our own experiences with God, not what we’ve read, not what we’ve heard, but the truths of our own encounters tell us that God’s plans are for life and that abundantly.

            Oh, Peter. You saw Jesus coming to you over the sea, taming the chaos. You heard the words that you knew belonged to God, “I am.” The taste of bread and fish miraculously multiplied is still in your mouth. And yet you ask for proof. Do not put the Lord your God to the test.

            You know the truth. What more can God say to you than has already been said and done through Jesus for your salvation, your hope, and your faith. The will of God is that you will live, grow, serve, be whole. There is no need to test that, only to live trusting in its truth and power.

Amen.

That's Not An Answer

Luke 13:1-9, 31-35

             Why do bad things happen to good people? Conversely, why do good things happen to people who seem evil? Why should a murderer have joy? Why should a gracious person experience deep grief? This is the question Jesus is confronted with in today’s reading. People want to know why God allowed the faithful Galileans to be killed.

            Jesus responds by asking if the people who were killed in the accidental falling of a tower were worse sinners and deserved to die. The questions that are being raised go all the way back to Job and beyond. We want to know why there is suffering in the world. We want to know why it comes to us and to those we love and to those we deem innocent.

            So, Jesus, ever helpful, answers these deep, heartfelt questions with a parable (everyone’s favorite). He speaks of a fig tree that is not producing fruit and the desire of the owner of the garden to cut it down, presumably to make space for a tree that will produce. The gardener gets the life of the tree extended by promising to rededicate effort to its growth for one more year.

            It is tempting to make a metaphor or an allegory out of this parable. To say that we are the tree(s), God is the owner, and Jesus is the gardener- bargaining for more time for us to produce fruit. However, that scenario pits the Father and the Son against each other, instead of seeing them work together out of love for all creation.

            Jesus does not say why bad things happen; he skips right over that question. We want the world to make sense- for bad things to happen to “bad” people or for bad things to happen as a direct correlation to bad actions. It is not so. God is in the center of all events, but not the immediate cause of all that happens. God is present in all pain and suffering, but not at the root of these things. Human freedom and freedom in the created order can, unfortunately, lead to pain and sadness. (What is freedom in the created order? It means that some things happen like the growth of cancer cells or natural disasters or freak accidents.)

            Knowing that God is present in all things, but not the cause of all situations, Jesus does not answer the questions that we ask, but instead gives us the direction and information that we need to know and to remember. Through the parable of the fig tree, Jesus reminds us that pain will happen to everyone. Everyone will experience loss. Everyone will make a bad decision and experience consequences, sometimes negative and sometimes not. Everyone will (most likely) die. And everyone will experience God’s judgment.

            Jesus is reminding his hearers- then and now- that there are things we do something about and things we cannot. For the fig tree, and for us, fruitlessness is not inevitable. Through the Holy Spirit, God is constantly shaping us… using the events that happen to us and around us to bring forth good things for our neighbors, our communities, our families, and… even for ourselves.

            God is with us as we weather life’s experiences, but then helps us to grow into the producers that we have the potential to be. When we reflect on God’s grace, then, we have to ask ourselves if and how we are producing love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. These things grow in us, by God’s help, and we are called to use them to mend the wounds in the world that are caused by bad choices, by poor use of freedom, by accidents, by the forces that oppose God and God’s good work.

            Instead of clearing up the mysteries of the ages, Jesus tells us that we are the answer to someone’s question. We are the answer to someone’s pain, to someone else’s inability to make ends meet, someone’s call for help, to the needs for justice, peace, and healing. Jesus reminds his disciples, his hearers, and those who would deride him that we can still produce this fruit without having all our questions answered.

            This is what it means to live in faith and to live together faithfully. Our life of faith is living together and living in the world until the time when we have all the answers, but the questions no longer matter. We are not brought together, we are not given faith, we are not believing for the answers. We are together, granted faith, and believing with the questions.

            Which does mean that we may become exasperated, on occasion with Jesus, with God, with the Spirit. We may yell. We may rend our clothing. But the difference between living in faith with doubt and not believing is revealed at the end of today’s reading. We can be with Herod, with the religious officials, with the people who demand answers or refuse reason, with those who reject Jesus. Or we can stand with Jesus, with the One who Saves, and say that we do not know all that we will know, but we know enough now, we trust enough now… to continue forward. We can say that we have received enough grace to sustain us into the next step. We can share with one another enough confidence that God is continuing to shape us, feed us, and nurture us into the producers of the fruits of the Spirit that the world so desperately needs.

            Jesus reminds us that, on this side of heaven, pain and death are going to happen. Judgment, God’s decisions toward us, is also inevitable. However, these things- separation, loss, and death- do not mean division from God. And they most assuredly do not mean inevitable unfruitfulness. The good news of God in Jesus the Christ is that God continues to use us for good, whether we know it or not. The world is changed through each of us, for Christ’s own sake. And we are gifted with the opportunities to be participants in God’s grace and creativity. We become co-workers and co-creators through the power of the Spirit.

            The Lenten season reminds us that the time to join with Jesus is now. We do so, invited by the grace we have already known. The promise of God in Christ to continue working in us so that we might bear fruit is the deepest measure of God’s grace. And while that grace does not answer all our questions, it helps us to live with our questions. The consolation of today’s reading is that we can live with questions and still live in faith.  

Dressed for Joy (Sermon 12/16)

Isaiah 61:1-11

How many of you know the adage, “Wear clean underwear, because you never know when you’ll be in an accident”? While I do not want to know how many of you follow that rule, I suspect many of you think about what you wear each day. Am I dressed or ready for the car to break down? Am I dressed or ready if I had to sit for a while and wait? Am I dressed and ready for walking around the store, getting gas, watching a toddler, changing a tire, having lunch with a friend?

This is a question I ask myself all the time. Especially as the number of clothes I have that fit begins to dwindle, I ask myself, “Is this what I want to be wearing for a hospital visit? For an emergency call? For pastoral authority in the office?” Sometimes I’m not dressed, or I don’t feel like I am, for what I need to do.

On Friday, after the initial shock of the news out of Connecticut, I was thinking about opening the church into the evening for prayers. When I decided to do that, I was wearing jeans and a sweater. A fine outfit for sitting in the office and writing a sermon, not what I wanted to be wearing when we were opening the church and I was talking with the people who came in and out all day. “I’m not dressed for this”- I kept thinking. What I really meant was- I’m not ready. I’m not prepared for this.

This is not the first time this has happened. Someone here once told me- it doesn’t matter what you’re wearing, just show up. Good advice, but I know I’m not the only one to whom this happens. How many of you felt overwhelmed this week- either by the season, by events, or by memories? How many of you have had a call during the day or in the night- for which you weren’t dressed, for which you weren’t ready?

Thus, in considering that the third Sunday in Advent is Joy Sunday, I don’t feel dressed for it. If we had colored candles, this would be the pink one (the others being blue or purple). Joy Sunday! And that’s what the task that the prophet Isaiah delivers to Israel and that is also communicated to us, as our task, through Jesus. It is our task to seek joy, to be found by joy, to communicate joy.

Isaiah says the role of the prophet, which is now the mantle that goes over all of Israel and extends to all who live by faith is this: The spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me; he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners; to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all who mourn; to provide for those who mourn in Zion --- to give them a garland instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit.  (61:1-3)

Do you feel dressed to do that? To declare the year of the Lord’s favor? To bring good news to the oppressed and to comfort all who mourn? Do you feel ready to proclaim joy?

Joy is not happiness. It is one of the fruits of the Spirit (love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness)- not something we can produce ourselves, but something that God brings forth in us. Joy has the twinge of the fight, of how far it took to get there, it is hard earned and treasured. Joy is the light that shines in the darkness and shines that focused beam, making us aware of how dark things can be. How can we be ready for joy? How can we be ready to proclaim it? How do we dress for this?

The only way to be dressed for joy is to be clothed in Christ.  To be clothed in the experience of weeping at the death of a friend, to know betrayal, to have eaten good-bye meals, to have people turn away from grace, to feel forsaken… and to still taste resurrection, to still hope in return and restoration, to trust in the possibility of peace, to rest in the light of Love. 

The only way to be dressed for joy is to be clothed in Christ, clothing which comes with all of these experiences, the accessories of faith, if you will- the very real experiences of this very real life.  Joy is not the absence of suffering, but the presence of God.

            I cannot tell you why bad things happen. I cannot tell you that we will live to see the good that God will bring from some of the tragedies of our lifetimes. I cannot undo the exile of the Israelites and I cannot redo Friday with a different outcome.

            God is not the “why” of tragedy and devastation. God is the how- the how we get through it. God is the where- consoling to the grieving, receiving the dying, walking with the confused and afraid. God is the who- the One who made all things and loves all creation. God is the when- a mystery to us, but a promise of renewal and bringer of unexpected joy. God is the what- the what we shall wear, the what we shall say, the what we shall turn to.

            When there is no “why”, there is a Holy Who/Where/How/When/What that clothes us in grace, that dresses us in mercy, that accessorizes us with joy. We come as we are to God’s dressing room- the baptismal font, Holy Communion, a conversation with a friend, a time of prayer- and we are draped in Christ.

            What do you wear to do that proclaiming, to be a priest of the Lord, a minister proclaiming God’s favor (as Isaiah says you are)?

            (Make the sign of the cross). You wear the sign of the cross and…

There! You’re dressed for proclamation. You are wearing the promise of the Holy Spirit, the mark of Christ crucified and risen, the symbol of hope for the whole world. You will never be more ready to bear joy. You will not find anything that fits you better. There’s never been a more graceful fit, a closer fit, a more beautiful shape. The cross is the clothing we’ve got… its emptiness, its inability to be the final word, its attempt to stop the Word of Life… it is how God dresses us to go out into the world. The sign of the cross is our clothing for grieving and for rejoicing, for sorrow and for joy. The sign of the cross is our Christmas sweater, our Easter suit, our Epiphany workout clothes, our Pentecost learning outfit, our clothing for waiting, for hoping, for proclaiming.

            It is Advent and we wait. We wait for a great deal, including joy. But we’re dressed for it, when it comes. Saved and clothed in righteousness by Christ’s own faithfulness, we are dressed to heal, to share hope, to be a part of the work of the kingdom. In the midst of tragedy and hope, we are dressed, in the cross, to seek and to be found by joy. Amen.

My Hour with Thomas

On the second Sunday in Easter, our church observed Bright Sunday (or Holy Humor Sunday)- extending our resurrection celebration. In addition to kazoos, jokes, and laughter, we had an interview with the apostle, Thomas.

Good morning, everyone, and thank you for joining me today on Theology in the Morning with…Pastor Julia! We’ll have a special food giveaway later this hour, but right now let’s meet our special guest. You may know him as the Eeyore of the disciples or the famous doubter, but let’s welcome… Thomas the Apostle!

Thank you so much for coming today. How do I address you? None of you apostles seemed to come with a last name.

Thomas is fine.

Thank you for that. Well, let’s get to it. I think the first question we’d all like an answer to is: Where were you when Jesus showed up that first time?

You know, Pastor Julia. If I’m willing to do the time and space travel it takes to come here and answer questions for you and these other fine folks today, I’d think you’d come up with a better first question. Everyone wants to know and what are you going to say if I tell you that it was my turn to empty the dirt pot (if I may be subtle)… or that I had gone out to get more bread or wine… or that it was just pretty rank in that room with 10 other scared men. Whatever I tell you is going to disappoint you, so all you need to know is that I wasn’t there. Can you live with that?

Wow! I must say, Thomas, I did not expect you to be so frank. I suppose…

It’s like this. I loved Jesus, still do. I mean, I see Him every day now, so can’t really complain. But three years of parables… that can make a man crazy. I wanted some plain talk and I don’t mind telling you that when he did get around to telling it like it was, it was hard to swallow. Since the resurrection, my goal is to tell the truth- straight up. No parables, no metaphors. Also, I don’t spend time on what doesn’t matter. Where I was doesn’t matter in this interview.

Well, thank you for your frankness. Moving on then, what did you think when the others told you that Jesus had been in the room with them?

Honestly, I thought they had all gone crazy together. We were so keyed up, scared, and jittery. It seemed possible that they had a group vision or something. What happened with Judas hit us all pretty hard. Not just because he had traveled with us and been a friend, we thought, but also because most of us understood that anyone of us could have easily done what he did. Maybe not in the same way or for the same reasons, but still… Anyway, when I came back and everyone was tripping over themselves to tell me about Jesus’ return. It was just too much. I’m sure you’ll want to list out the history of Thomas the doubter, but can anyone here tell me that you wouldn’t have said the same thing in the same circumstances?

I’m pretty sure I can’t say that I would have been different. So, what was it like when you did see Jesus?

What do you think it was like? I wanted to throw up and throw myself at his feet, all at the same time. Even after the crucifixion, even when we weren’t entirely sure what to believe about where his body was, we still knew the truth of what we had witnessed when we traveled with him. I still can hear Lazarus’ voice lifting out of that tomb. I can still see the stunned expression of blind men seeing for the first time, of people who walked, of people who heard and received a word of forgiveness. So, even when we as disciples didn’t know what to think… we had these powerful experiences to chew over with one another. Those experiences formed our understanding of Jesus and, in that upper room, none of us were willing to admit to thinking we might have been wrong, even though we all had that thought. And then he was there!

If I may interrupt, how did he come through that wall?

You may not interrupt. That’s not important to the story. However he did it, it was done! And there he was and I was terrified and thrilled and ashamed and gratified and… Even now, it’s too overwhelming to think. Suddenly, when he appeared, everything I knew came into place. The last rock in a wall. The opening move of a game. It was like the most powerful end and at the same time the most astounding beginning of any story, song, or even battle that you might see. Suddenly, I knew that this was my Rabbi, my teacher, and my God, THE God… right there. When he offered for me to touch him, I couldn’t dare. Moses only saw God’s backside and lived to tell about it. What would happen to lowly Thomas who asked for proof, got it, and then pressed his luck?

That’s such an amazing story, Thomas. We’re all curious about what you did next, but this is supposed to be a light-hearted Sunday. We’ve all been enjoying laughing and your story seems so heavy.

It’s not that heavy when you actually think about it. You don’t think there’s humor in it? Believe me, I laugh every time I consider that Jesus didn’t punish me for asking a question. He could have said, “Impudent wretch! Did you ever listen when I was talking?” But he was as kind and generous in resurrection as he ever been.

And, you, you dare to think that this is not a story of joy? What kind of interpreter of scripture are you? There are three gifts in that story and you get two of them. Jesus gives peace to all disciples, he gives proof to me, and he blesses those who won’t quite have the same experience I did. You get peace! AND a blessing! What more do you want?

Well, proof might be nice.

Proof! Ha! Proof is like the buzz of those kazoos that you were playing earlier. It’s great while it lasts, but then it grates on you. It takes your breath away and then leaves you empty of mystery. Proof gives you a tangible experience for a while, but it doesn’t allow for height and depth and breadth and range.

If you have proof, will you have peace? Will your questions end or will they increase? If you received proof, would you relinquish your blessing? The comfort of the Spirit? The experiences you have resurrection in communion and in community and in creation?

I don’t know, but doubting seems so…

What is doubt? It’s like proof, it comes and it goes. If you banish one question, another will arise. Your faith, God’s gift of faith to you, is not the absence of doubt. It’s action in spite of doubt. It’s moving forward, even while questioning. It’s closing a door, but knowing that Jesus just might come through the wall.  You’re learning as you go, just like I was. Just like Peter. Just like Andrew, James, John, and all the women who helped us along the way. But you have written accounts to help your faith. You have the promise and the presence of the Spirit. The resurrection has always been your reality.

And you have my story, my little story that you try to make big in all the wrong ways. What was I doing? How did he come through the wall? How about this?!? Jesus knew my questions, brought me the answer of his own body, did not strike me dead on the spot, and offered a blessing to everyone who doesn’t get what I got. How about that to make your Sunday bright? And your tomorrow? And the day after that?

Wow, Thomas, I don’t know how to thank you for coming in today. You’ve been an amazing guest. I’d like to talk to you more after the break about your life after the upper room, but first we have some messages from our sponsors. Folks, I just want to repeat something Thomas said: Your faith, God’s gift of faith to you, is not the absence of doubt. It’s action in spite of doubt. It’s moving forward, even while questioning. It’s closing a door, but knowing that Jesus just might come through the wall.

Amen

My brother, Thomas

ACTS 4:32-35; PSALM 133; 1 JOHN 1:1- 2:2; JOHN 20:19-31

Where was Thomas when Jesus appeared in the upper room that first night? When everyone else is locked in for fear of being associated with Jesus and, thus, receiving the same treatment He did, Thomas is out and about. Why would that be?

We get a little glimpse of the character of Thomas earlier in John, when word comes to Jesus that Lazarus is dying. Some of the other disciples are concerned that heading back toward Jerusalem will mean certain and sudden death for Jesus. Jesus slows his own walk, so that Lazarus might be raised for the glory of God. However the other disciples hope to dissuade him from the plan all together. Another dramatic healing within close proximity to the holy city is just too dangerous.

Finally, it would seem, Thomas gets tired of the hemming and hawing of the others and realizes Jesus is going to do what he’s going to do. Thomas turns to the others and says, “Let us also go [meaning to Jerusalem], that we may die with him.” Thomas gets it. This life with Jesus means putting everything else behind him and so he has. Where Jesus leads, he follows.

In John 14, as Jesus promises to prepare a place for his followers, a place where they can meet him, practical Thomas asks, “We don’t know where you are going. So how can we know the way?” Jesus answers, “I am the way, the truth and the life.” Philip asks for the disciples to be shown the Father, but Thomas is quiet now. If Jesus says he’s the way, then he’s the way.

He’s not Peter, always offering a quick, blurted response- “Lord, let us build booths and stay here”, “Lord, you will never wash my feet”, “Lord, I will never deny you, deny you, deny you.” Thomas isn’t James and John, the sons of Zebedee. We don’t see him ask about seating arrangements in heaven. He isn’t Judas or Simon the Zealot, confused about the role of the Messiah and refusing to accept that this carpenter is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.

From the little we see of him, Thomas has taken up the yoke and started down the road with Jesus, wherever it leads. So, why isn’t he in the upper room? Maybe because he doesn’t think the mission is over. For Thomas, perhaps fear must take a backseat to all that Jesus commanded. Maybe he’s out laying hands on people. Perhaps he’s in the synagogue, praying and discussing Isaiah with other men. He could have journeyed out to the tomb and might be running his hands over the rock rolled away, wondering just how it happened.

Somewhere, when someone came to the upper room and said Jesus was no longer in the tomb- Thomas apparently stood up, dusted off his sackcloth and ashes and decided there was work still to be done and he left the room and his fellow disciples.

When he returns, maybe with some food for the evening meal, and they all are clamoring to tell him that Jesus appeared among them- he’s a little skeptical. You can imagine Peter and James and John, people whose reluctance has frustrated Thomas in the past, going on and on about Jesus coming through the wall, about the experience of receiving the Spirit, of seeing Christ again. Thomas can’t take it, “Enough. Unless I see in his hands the print of the nails, and place my finger in their mark and place my hand in his side, I will not believe.”

And there Thomas sealed his fate in the life of the church to come. Oh, Thomas, doubting Thomas, how could you not believe in what the others had spoken to you? But Thomas, faithful Thomas, knew the Jesus whom he was still following. He didn’t say, “I will never believe that” or “You’re lying” or “I think we should switch to weaker wine”. If Jesus came once, he would come again and Thomas would wait for that encounter.

And so it happened. This time, Thomas is there and Jesus comes into the closed room and extends his peace to his frazzled disciples. He immediately looks at Thomas and extends his hands, saying- “Do not be unbelieving, but believe.” And then Thomas gives the most profound profession of faith in the gospels. This is not Peter’s recognition of the Messiah, God’s anointed one. This is not Mary Magdalene’s recognition of her rabbouni, her teacher. This is not the cry of the soldier for a healer or the call of the centurion identifying the Son of God. This is the deep-rooted cry of Jesus’ most practical follower, recognizing not only his Lord, but his God.

Only Thomas, with his questions, his stubbornness and his willingness to follow without totally knowing the way, can see the two natures of Jesus the Christ, risen from the dead and apparent before him. His cry is the cry of the church from that moment on, from that upper room to this open room and in all times and places.

Thomas is called the “Twin”, but no mention is made of his sibling. Sometimes, it is we who are considered his twin, Thomas’ other half. We are with him in the gospel and he is asking the questions in our minds. Will we die with Christ? How can we know the way? Did he really appear to so many? Our brother in faith and in questioning draws the answers we need to live in faith. And the answers we need to live with our questions.

Jesus extends to Thomas what Thomas needs to believe. So also do God the Holy Spirit give us the gift of faith, but also opens us to see Jesus’ hands, body and blood and blessing extending to us as well. It might not have been right when Thomas asked for it, but he received what he needed in order to believe.

In the meantime, it would appear that he kept doing what Jesus had called him to do. He didn’t sit and wait until he fully understood. He did not refuse to ask anything, hoping someone else would clarify or ask the questions that seemed stupid or outrageous.

So, we, Thomas’ faith brothers and sister, can do no less. We are called to wrestle with difficult questions, with painful realities, with the real presence and sometimes felt absence of our risen Savior. We want to reach out and touch Jesus or at least to feel Him touching us. However, we keep going. You keep going. I keep going. The church keeps going. And we believe. We believe when we have not seen, we obey when we don’t understand, we persist when we don’t feel like it, we thank God before we receive and we keep trusting when we don’t receive.

This is the life to which we are called through the risen Christ. This is the life that Thomas led and offers as an example. We take our convictions and our questions, both of which make up our faith, the hope of things unseen, and we live the life to which we have been called- service to God and to our neighbors.

And we keep our eyes open for signs of God’s gracious presence and love. For we know signs were given to Thomas and the other disciples and to so many who have preceded us into glory, signs that are not written down anywhere. But we have the Spirit and God’s Holy Word so that, with or without signs, we may come to believe that Jesus is our Lord and our God and that through believing we may have life, abundant life, in His name.