Prophesy to These Bones

Scripture Lessons: Ezekiel 37: 1-14 and Acts 2: 1-21 Sermon title: Prophesy to These Bones Preached on May 20, 2018 On this Pentecost Sunday, I am reminded of my Aunt Beth’s fear of snakes. My Aunt Beth once told me that she’s deathly afraid of all kinds of snakes – live snakes, dead snakes, and sticks that sort of look like snakes. And you could try to tell her that a Rat Snake isn’t venomous, or you could hold up the black piece of hose to show her that it’s just a hose, but it doesn’t matter. That’s because we interpret reality based – not just on what’s actually there, but on what we think we see. Sometimes fear colors our vision, other times it’s anxiety, sometimes love that us from seeing clearly what’s actually there, and that’s why, on that Pentecost Day long ago, the Holy Spirit came to the Disciples, but not everyone saw, not everyone reacted to it the same way. We just read: Divided tongues as of fire appeared among [the Disciples]. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other language as the Spirit gave them ability. If ever there was an obvious miracle, an obvious encounter with the divine, this was it, but listen to how the people who saw it responded: “All were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, “What does this mean?” But others sneered and said, “They are filled with new wine.” You see, we are a people who mistake sticks for snakes and disciples for drunks. Sometimes its fear that colors our vision, other times anxiety blinds us to everything but our worries. Sometimes a kind of pessimism or heartbreak keeps us jaded and far from seeing a miracle that appears right before our eyes. That’s true today, and it’s always been true. Think back to Moses leading the people across the Sea on dry ground. Was there anyone among them who saw the waters part and said, “I’m not walking through there. Leave me with the Egyptians.” Did anyone who watched David defeat the giant Goliath sneer and say, “That’s the luckiest kid I ever saw.” The answer is – of course they did. Miracles happen every day, and people walk right past them. If my Aunt Beth can mistake a stick for a copperhead, then of course, we can mix-up a miracle and a coincidence, scoff at a movement of the Spirit. Miracles happen, but are our hearts attuned to see them? Not always. Back in Tennessee there is a homeless man named Melvin. Columbia, TN is a small town, and everyone there knows Melvin. He would sit out in front of the church, waving to cars that passed by. People would honk and wave. More folks than you’d imagine would stop and give him money or food, and all that was fine with the people of First Presbyterian Church because Melvin was outside. The problem came when Melvin started coming into the church. Now these are good Christian people, and they welcomed him with open arms, but you get too close to a homeless man who hasn’t had a bath in weeks or months and hospitality gets demanding. At some point in the summer, when sweat compounded body odor, someone said to me, “Joe, either he takes a bath, or I have to stop coming to church. I just can’t take it.” That sounds like a simple enough request – to ask a man to bathe before he enters the Lord’s House, but there were legends about Melvin. That he was scared of water because his parents drowned. That no one could get him to bathe because smelling bad protected him from thieves who would steal his money. There were all kinds of stories, so when I went over to ask him about taking a bath, I thought I knew already what he was going to say. Still, I said, “Melvin, you know I love you coming to our church, but I need you to do me one big favor. I need you to take a bath.” So sure was I that he would say no, that when he said “yes,” I didn’t know what to do. I had just spit the words out and expected that that would be that – my plan went no farther. When he said, “Sure Joe, I’ll take a bath,” came the problem of what next – and despite my surprise at his willingness, I was smart enough to want to strike while the iron was hot. I suddenly remembered that the Methodist Church across the street had a shower, so I ran over there, asked Valarie at the front desk for access to the shower, not knowing what she’d think, but fully expecting her to say no. Instead, she handed me a key to the church, and out from under her desk she just happened to have a bag with clothes, a bar of soap, and shampoo, as though she had been preparing for this exact moment. How do you explain that? Coincidence? Dumb luck? If among the crowd that Pentecost long ago were those who sneered and said, “They are filled with new wine,” then today we are wise to remember that our entire culture is poised to reinforce the cynical assumption that nothing is getting any better in this world and that to believe differently is foolish superstition, but listen to this. There’s a little girl in Club 3:30. Club 3:30 is the after-school program that meets here at the church, and this little kindergartner came to our afterschool program from a region in Central America so remote that she had never before sat in a chair. Not only that, this region she was from was so remote that she didn’t speak English nor Spanish, but an indigenous dialect. That was the beginning of the year. Last month the Kiwanis Club of Marietta gave medals to the teachers of our city schools, charging them to recognize students for whatever accomplishment might not typically be recognized, so this little kindergartner came to Wednesday Night Supper wearing a medal that she told me was for “most improved English speaker” in her kindergarten class. Now there’s a miracle. One that happened right here, in this room, but it won’t tell itself. In our world today – this fear filled, prejudice prone, fake-new kind of world – where everyone, it seems, is tailoring facts to protect their agenda – we Christians must be prepared to stand and speak with feet planted firmly in the truth. On that Pentecost long ago it was Peter, standing with the eleven. [He] raised his voice and addressed [the crowd], “these are not drunk as you suppose, for it is only nine o’clock in the morning. No, this is what was spoken by the prophet Joel: In the last days it will be, God declares, that I will pour out my spirit on all flesh.” That’s what Peter did, and if we don’t get in the habit of doing the same, so many will just walk right by, focused on the next worry that comes along. For everywhere there are people looking out on the world, taking in what they see through a lens of fear. People who hide from the world, drowning under the weight of headlines. The defeated who allow death to have the final world; treating hope like a fairy tale. Then, in desperation so many put faith in the makers of empty promises, forgetting the power of God who breathes life, into to dry bones. In our 1st Scripture Lesson we read: The Lord said to the Prophet [Ezekiel], “Mortal, can these bones live?” He answered, “O Lord God, you know.” Then the Lord said to the Prophet, “Prophesy to these bones, and say to them: O dry bones, hear the word of the Lord.” Christians – we are called to see the world through the lens of faith – remembering the power of God that gave dry bones new life. The power of God that turned Moses’ staff into a snake, divided the waters, and who still sets slaves free. The power of God that gave the boy David a strength greater than the giant, who granted the king victory, and gave his son wisdom. The power incarnate in Christ who walked out of the grave conquering sin and death, defying the authority of empire, entrusting fishermen with the most important news ever heard. Whenever we read the paper or watch the news, too often it is a different message, an empty message, that causes us to retreat in fear and react in apathy, but God is still at work in our world, and Satan, that liar, cannot change this reality. He can only shape our perception of it, causing us to see drunks rather than the mighty prophets of God, coincidence rather than his mighty hand, decline and defeat rather than triumph and victory. Prophesy to the bones then. In a world in conflict over issues of race – point to the gospel choir who sang for a prince’s wedding and remember that regardless of those who fight it, change still comes. In our world of violence, prophesy words of hope, reminding teachers and students, parents and grandparents, that no matter how many shootings there are, death will not have the final word, for born within each graduating class is hope for a better future – and those who stand against it might as well get out of the way. We, the church, we must prophesy to the world – for our world is quick to forget that the Holy Spirit who was alive on Pentecost so long ago is at work still, is alive and awake still. So as we go out into the world, armed with pizza boxes, let us be bold to see it and celebrate it. Amen.