It Takes Courage to Touch the Wounds

Scripture Lessons: Revelation 1: 4-8 and John 20: 19-31 Sermon Title: It Takes Courage to Touch the Wounds Preached on April 24, 2022 Some people call today, the Sunday after Easter, Associate Pastor Sunday because so many pastors who preached on Easter take this Sunday off and go on vacation. I didn’t want to do that. I wanted to be here to defend the disciple Thomas. Thomas is the most misunderstood disciple. It’s just not fair how people talk about him. Think about how no one calls Peter “denying Peter,” though he denied Jesus three times after promising that he wouldn’t. No one even calls Judas “betraying Judas.” It’s only Thomas who gets the nickname. He’s Doubting Thomas, for when the disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord,” Thomas said, “I doubt it.” What do you think about doubt? A wise teacher once told me that the opposite of faith isn’t doubt. No, the opposite of faith is certainty. Think about that for a minute. The opposite of faith is certainty. Why would anyone say that? It’s because when we’re certain, we’re no longer open to new information. When we doubt, we stand ready to believe. If we doubt, we may be on the road to the truth. Indeed, it was this way with Thomas. Thomas was something like Copernicus. Copernicus doubted what everyone at the time was saying about the laws of planetary motion by claiming that the earth revolves around the sun. Do you remember that from history class? Likewise, Christopher Columbus doubted what everyone in his day was saying. Back then, folks believed that sailing west would result in falling off the face of the earth. Columbus doubted what everyone else was certain of and landed on America. What happened with Thomas is that he doubted the disciples; yet look at his declaration of faith at the end of our Gospel lesson: “My Lord and my God,” he said. Did anyone else say it so strongly? No. The others were behind a locked door the first time Jesus came, and even though He told them to go out into the world to forgive people of their sins, where were they the second time Jesus came? They were still behind that locked door. On the other hand, Thomas was out the first time Jesus came. He was out and about so soon after the crucifixion, while all those disciples saw what happened to Jesus and were afraid that the same might happen to them. What was Thomas doing out when everyone else was behind the locked door? We can’t know for sure, but let me tell you a little more about Thomas. He’s my favorite, so I’ve tried to learn a little bit about him. In chapter 11 of the Gospel of John, Jesus and the disciples heard that their friend Lazarus had died. Now Jesus knows that this is not a big deal. He’s planning to go there and raise Lazarus from the dead, but the disciples are afraid because the last time they were in Lazarus’ hometown they almost got killed: “Rabbi, they were just now trying to stone you there, and you want to go there again?” they asked Him as He was thinking about heading back to Bethany. Jesus wants to go and raise Lazarus from the dead. Lazarus’ sisters have sent for Jesus to come. However, the disciples are afraid to go back there. All the disciples are afraid save one: Thomas. This is what Thomas said to those disciples who were afraid of being stoned, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.” That’s who Thomas was. He was courageous. “Let us also go, that we may die with him,” he said. Thomas wasn’t afraid of dying. Seeing Jesus crucified may have made him think, “I’ll follow Him even to His death if that’s what He wants from me.” I can imagine him in the streets of Jerusalem taking it all in. Imagine walking with Thomas and seeing Jerusalem so soon after the crucifixion. Was there another up on the cross already? Had word reached the priests that He had risen? What was the world like in those days after the resurrection? I don’t imagine it was springtime or that peace had finally come to the land. Instead, I imagine that those who had chanted, “Crucify Him,” were just as blood thirsty, and that those who divided His clothes were parading them around. Repentance had yet to come to the land, and most of the disciples were behind a locked door, afraid to go out. Where then is faith in this Gospel lesson for today? Where is faith? If you think the other disciples are faithful, I ask you to look at their actions, for they’re all behind a locked door, even after seeing the risen Lord. They remind me of a group of grown children talking about their mother, so terrified of how she’s doing that they’re not ready to face the truth. You can see them. “She seems great, doesn’t she?” one says. All nod their heads, relieved she’s recovered from the stroke. Maybe she doesn’t need as much help as they all had feared she would, only then comes the voice of Thomas: “I found her keys in the refrigerator.” “She also put salt in the tea.” “She put sugar in the grits, and remember what she used to say about people who do that?” “I just don’t feel good about leaving her here all alone.” “I know it’s what she wants.” “I know she seems OK today, but I think it’s just an act.” “This act she’s putting on, I doubt it.” It takes courage to doubt like that. Sometimes it’s good to doubt, and sometimes the faith of those around us looks more like denial. Behind locked doors, the disciples said they had seen the Lord. “Well, if you saw the Lord, why aren’t you out doing what He told you to do?” Thomas might have asked. Sometimes we talk so bad about Thomas, but think with me about him. I told you he’s my favorite, and I meant it. An old preacher used to say that some Christians are so heavenly-minded that they’re no earthly good. Have you heard that one? I can imagine Thomas saying that about his friends: “Well, if you believe He’s risen, why aren’t you out in the world doing something?” It’s because there’s a faith that’s just lip service to the Gospel. It’s a faith where you say you believe it, but you don’t really live it. Thomas is full of doubt, and yet he’s out there in the world. These disciples have seen the Lord, but they’re still behind a locked door. Is it better to say you believe but stay behind locked doors, or is it better to doubt and be out in the world? I don’t know, but the best thing is the kind of doubt that’s open to a deeper faith, and so I admire Thomas when he said, “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.” A week later, Jesus came and stood among the disciples and said, “Peace be with you.” Thomas was there. Jesus didn’t ask Thomas to leave, nor did he give him a lecture on how he should have believed what the other disciples told him. Instead, He said to Thomas, Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe. What happened next? Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!” He wasn’t so certain that the door to faith was locked. Instead, his doubt led him to a faith greater than that of the other disciples, for this declaration he made, “My Lord and my God,” is among the strongest made in any passage of Scripture. His doubt led him to greater faith. That happens sometimes. To get there, though, we must unlock the doors and see the wounds. Sometimes, when I take the exit for West Paces Ferry off I-75, I won’t do either. When I pull off I-75, there’s almost always someone there asking for money. Sometimes I lock my door and turn my head. Have you ever done that? That’s sometimes what we do, and we want to protect our children from such things, but the Sherwood family went to New York City over Spring Break, and there you can’t help but see how some of our brothers and sisters live. Betsy asked her young daughter how she liked the trip, and little Katherine said, “I can’t understand how they would let so many people be homeless.” Did you hear that? That sounds like the faith of Thomas to me. She’s saying, “I can’t understand, but I want to know.” “It’s hard to see, but I won’t just turn my head or lock the door.” There they are suffering. Their wounds are obvious. I’m willing to reach out my hand to touch them, only what would happen if I did? That’s where faith becomes an absolute necessity, for in seeing the world as it is, in seeing the homelessness, the suffering, the sadness, and all the brokenness, sometimes we are like those disciples who say we believe but hide behind locked doors. We just can’t take it. Other times, we are those kind and loving servants who do so much good but have no belief, doubting everything they hear. Meanwhile, Thomas sees the wounds, touches them even, and comes to know the power of God. He has seen the shadow but knows that the light is brighter than all the world’s darkness. He doubted the account of his friends but came to a faith far stronger than theirs. He has seen the wounds, touched them even, but knows that still Christ rises from the dead. My friends, today let us be like Thomas. Let us doubt a little bit that we might come to greater faith. Let us go out into the world, seeing the wounds, and seeing them, rather than locking ourselves behind closed doors, let us boldly proclaim that Christ is risen from the dead. He is risen. He is risen indeed. Amen.

The Gardener

Scripture Lessons: Psalm 118: 1-2, 14-24 and John 20: 1-18 Sermon Title: The Gardener Preached on April 17, 2022 What was it about Jesus that Easter morning so long ago that made Mary think He was the gardener? Are there ever gardeners in graveyards? Of course there are. Just think about it. There are trees and grass and birds. I know because I was running through the Marietta City Cemetery, and a bird dropped something on my forehead from one of those trees just a couple weeks ago. Someone has to care for those trees, and someone should be hunting those birds, but to the point, think about how much life there is in a place like the Mountain View Park Cemetery Oakland Cemetery downtown counts on at least 40 volunteer gardeners who prune, weed, plant, and manicure the grounds. Likewise, there’s a cemetery in Philadelphia that had to cap the number of volunteer gardeners at 150 because there were so many who wanted to help. Why do they do it? One said, “Working in a cemetery gives you lots of thoughts. Your day-to-day issues don’t seem as big because you’re reminded life is so fleeting.” Another volunteer who tended every day for a full year what’s called a cradle grave, which looks like a mix between a headstone and bathtub or a raised bed garden, described her gardening of graves as “really weird but also really nice.” I think I get it, and knowing a little bit about Jesus, I can imagine that Jesus looked like the kind of person who might volunteer to tend the plants in a graveyard because He was all the time bringing life to the dead places. That’s what He did. You remember. There was a woman at a well in the middle of the day. Why did she go there under the noonday sun instead of in the cool of the morning with everyone else? It’s because she’d had five husbands, and no one wanted to be seen with her, yet Jesus goes to this woman and asked her for a drink. Then, He provided her with living water. There was also a man named Legion, for he was not possessed by one or two demons, but an entire legion of them. The village kept him chained up among the tombs because he was uncontrollable; from time to time he would shout out at the top of his voice, yet Jesus went to this man and healed him. Who else was there? There was a woman named Mary. Rev. Cassie Waits preached about her a couple weeks ago. What had Jesus done for her? Why would she anoint His feet with $45,000 worth of perfume and wipe them with her hair? How else can you thank the man who saw you in that dark place and brought you back to the light? What else are you to do when you’d been lost but now are found? All the time, this Man was bringing life to the dead places. All the time, He was saving the lost. All the time, He was walking into the darkness bringing light, so it only makes sense that Mary Magdalene thought He was a gardener in a graveyard. That was His thing: bringing life to dead places, but He was also ever so much more than that. This morning, on the cover of your bulletin is an ancient icon from the Orthodox Christian tradition, which spread from the Eastern part of the Roman Empire: through Greece, Turkey, Russia, and is today the primary religion in Ukraine. This resurrected Jesus on your bulletin looks different from many of the artistic Easter renderings that we’ve grown used to. We tend to focus our art on how empty the tomb was that Easter morning, but notice what all the Eastern Orthodox Church remembers was down in there. The pit is full of chains, locks, keys, and a man tied up. Jesus stands triumphant on those two rectangles. Look closely at the picture. Jesus is standing on two brown rectangles laying across each other. What are they? They are the gates of Hell, which He has broken. What are the keys and locks down in that darkness? Can you see them? They are the locks and chains that used to hold so many captive. And who is that still down there but Satan himself, for now the one who held so many captive is bound and helpless. That’s what Jesus was doing in those days before He rose, for when we say in the Apostles’ Creed, He descended into Hell, we know that the Gardener was even bringing life down there. Even in Hell, He was doing what He always does, for the Gardener brings life to the places of death and liberates those trapped in darkness by the light of His love. That’s why He broke the doors to Hell and stands on them triumphant. It’s so that those who are trapped in suffering might find freedom, and this Easter Sunday service, viewed by the residents of the Cobb County Jail, I say it to you most clearly: Jesus is in the business of setting people free. The Gardener brings light and life to those places of shadow and concrete. He breaks through walls and bends back steel bars by His power to set the captives of sin and death free, yet how many in the Church believe that Jesus is in the business of sending people to such places of darkness and confinement? I once knew a man who said the preachers he’d grown up with made sure he knew all about the pit, and so there wasn’t any question of whether he was going to Hell, it was just a matter of when. Back in Tennessee, a church I’d drive past often put up on the marquee every year in the middle of August, “Sinners, you think it’s hot now?” Come on now. Don’t we know Who the Gardener is? Haven’t we learned by now the purpose of His mission? To roll back the stones that keep us confined to the shadows. To break the chains that have us isolated and trapped in the tombs. To bring life back to the places of death. To bring light to our shadows and hope to our despair. That’s who He is. Have you seen Him? We know that, at first, Mary had trouble recognizing Him. That happens with gardeners; they don’t always get our full attention. I once worked as a gardener in Buckhead. It was just after I had graduated college. I’d been accepted to graduate school and was trying to make a little money before I started. I was just finishing up in this woman’s driveway, raking a pile of leaves, when I heard her say to her kids, “That’s why you need to go to college, so you don’t have to work like that guy.” I wish I had had my diploma with me, but my point is that we do this all the time. Not only do we go past gardeners, garbage men, mail carriers, or waitresses without recognizing them as children of God, we go through life failing to see the Gardener bringing life to the places of death. It’s like we expect to see the Grim Reaper or the judge, and don’t know what to do with the Gardener, so we just look right over Him, yet there He is, knocking down the doors of our despair, for He is risen. He is risen indeed. The Gardener is walking around here right now. Have you seen Him? COVID-19 kept us under house arrest, but now we are out, free from that isolation, for He is risen. He is risen indeed. Also, if we are singing next to someone today who watches a different cable news show than we do and votes for people on the other side of the aisle, then He is breaking down the walls of division in our midst. You see, He is risen. He is risen indeed. In the news, I just heard that the strong man’s ship got sunk. I also heard how much kindness the Ukrainian refugees are meeting as they cross the border into neighboring countries. I met a missionary couple just last Friday who lives in Hungry and invited a Ukrainian family to live in their house while they spend Easter here in the States. How do you explain that kind of compassion? I’ll tell you. He is risen. He is risen indeed. Likewise, you may have noticed that our stained glass window is under construction. The wood around it had been rotting for years. I heard the cost of repair one morning, and the price tag scared me much more than the thought of having this old wooden cross up on Easter Sunday, only later that same week, a couple members of this church called prepared to give this church a financial gift. “Did we have anything that needed doing?” they asked, and right then, one couple funded the whole repair. This kind of miracle happens all the time, for the Gardener is walking all around bringing life to the places of death. You see, He is risen. He is risen indeed, and we need to get better at expecting to see Him so that we don’t miss Him. Life changes when you expect the resurrection. Two weeks ago, we had to put our 16-year-old dog down. Her name was Lucy. 16 years is a long time to have a dog, and we told our daughters we couldn’t get a puppy until Lucy died, which planted a seed of resentment towards Lucy. In fact, Lily had given up on Lucy ever dying. She would say that she hated the thought of coming back from college and her still being there. In fact, she joked how Lucy would probably rise from the dead on Easter Sunday. Well, yesterday, Sara and I picked up a stray dog on the side of the street, and when we brought that dog in the house, we yelled, “She is risen!” and Lily screamed and got up on top of a chair because the resurrection is not beyond the realm of possibility. Now, that’s not exactly how it works, but miraculous things are happening around us all the time. We just need to have the eyes to see them. I heard about a little girl who begged her parents for a guinea pig for a full two years. Last Friday, she got one. This morning, I read about a wife who forgave her ex-husband - and the other woman. Once we know what to look for, we see Him everywhere. He is the Light in the darkness. The Hope of the hopeless. The Gardener in the graveyard. For He is risen. He is risen indeed. Alleluia. Amen.

The Stone that the Builders Rejected

Scripture Lessons: Psalm 118: 1-2, 19-29 and Luke 19: 28-44 Sermon title: The Stone the Builders Rejected Preached on April 10, 2022 This second Scripture lesson from the Gospel of Luke is so familiar and is read so often that it’s possible to miss how strange it is. It is strange. It starts out strange when you think about it. Consider the owners of the colt and how they must have felt. They caught the disciples when they went to borrow it, and I can imagine the owners of that colt feeling very strange, especially when the disciples explained, “The Lord needs it.” “Well, we kind of need it. That’s why we bought the thing,” they might have said. Consider this plan Jesus comes up with. Based on this plan of His, you can tell He’s not used to borrowing colts, which isn’t a thing, actually. No sheriff in the Wild West ever bought the defense, “But I was only borrowing that steed tied up in front of the saloon,” so the disciples must have felt really awkward when Jesus made this request of them: “Go into the village ahead of you, and as you enter it you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden. Untie it and bring it here. [And] if anyone asks you, ‘Why are you untying it?’ just say this, ‘The Lord needs it.’” Hearing that request, I imagine they would have been thinking, “My cousin was hanged for stealing a colt back in Nazareth.” Let it sink in how strange this Gospel lesson is. Let it sink in, too, how being a friend to Jesus so often pushes us beyond our comfort zones, just as love always does. Love pushes us beyond our comfort zones, doesn’t it? If it didn’t, how do you explain people who push their dogs around in strollers. You really have to love a dog to push it around in a stroller. Likewise, as a husband and a father, I’ve found myself doing all kinds of things I never thought I’d do. For example, Sara was pregnant with Lily, and we went to have our first family portrait taken. The photographer asked me to put my nose on Sara’s belly button. I looked at the photographer and then at my wife, asking with my eyes, “Are you serious? Do you really want me to do this?” and then I did it. My nose on her belly. Why? Because sometimes we do strange things for people we love. On a plane last week, I was watching a TV show about a lower-middle class teenage girl who wanted to make a big impression at her classmate’s bat mitzvah. She begged her parents to buy a piece of jewelry they couldn’t afford so she could impress this wealthy classmate with what she thought was a super nice gift. Her parents relented, bought the gift, a $100 necklace they put on layaway, and the girl presented her classmate this necklace during the party, only the girl looked at it, said a terse thank-you, and went to the next present she had to open. Feeling rejected, the lower-middle class girl convinced her best friend to help her steal it back. Now that’s friendship. How do you know your friend is really your friend? She’ll help you steal back a gift that went unappreciated. She’ll go and borrow you a colt. Or he’ll let you paint his car checkerboard with flames. I’ll never forget when my two best friends in high school asked me if they could paint my car. I thought it was a great idea, but I told them I needed to ask my parents for permission. When my parents said “yes,” I couldn’t understand why. It was only when I was driving the checkered car around Marietta, and people started telling my parents, “I saw Joe driving down Whitlock. He was going a little fast.” that I understood. How did they know it was me? Well, there weren’t many checkerboard cars around at that time, so I realized I just allowed them to install a tracking device on me. Now, put these two ideas together: the feeling you get when a friend asks you to do something just beyond your comfort zone and a car that announces itself to the community, and you’re on your way to understanding what Palm Sunday is all about. It’s not just palms waved by a crowd of people. It’s not just the Sunday before Easter. When Jesus asks his disciples to borrow a colt, He is announcing Himself to Jerusalem. He is fulfilling an ancient prophecy. He is broadcasting His identity and His intention. More than that, He’s forcing every person in the city to make an uncomfortable choice: Are you with Me, or are you with Rome? Are you a friend of Jesus, or do you truly follow Him with your life? Are you just waving a palm branch, or are you ready to take a risk and become a disciple? It’s a choice that pushed many beyond their comfort zones. In our second Scripture lesson, the Pharisees find themselves on the fence because they’re not comfortable choosing Jesus. In other words, they knew exactly what it all meant, and they weren’t sure they were ready to put their noses on anyone’s belly or steal back anyone’s necklace. When they heard the multitude praising God with a loud voice saying, “Blessed is the king,” it made them nervous because they fully understood what Jesus was doing; they knew exactly what the crowd meant, and it scared them because they’d been waiting for the real king of Jerusalem while treating the emperor like he was it. They were trying to be both these things, not wanting to stand on one side or the other; however, if Jesus is the King of Jerusalem, then that means the emperor isn’t. Therefore, on that Palm Sunday so long ago, they were asked to make an uncomfortable choice, a choice made obvious considering the events of that particular week so many years ago. The same week that Jesus rode into Jerusalem, Pilate, draped in the gaudy glory of imperial power, came riding into town as well. Today, scholars believe that the great irony of Palm Sunday is that there were two parades that same week. Into Jerusalem rode Pontius Pilate on a white horse, surrounded by drums, trumpets, and soldiers at arms, while Jesus rode into the same city that same week on a colt surrounded by crowds of peasants waving palm branches. It was a choice, then, that every citizen had to make: Are you with Rome, or are you with Jesus? Both had a parade, both commanded a crowd, and both claimed to be king. For those crowds on that day so long ago, it would have been like any bold choice you ever made where you chose friendship or love over common sense, for their livelihoods, positions, and possibly their very lives depended on which parade they chose to attend. It was a choice that pushed them beyond their comfort zones. What we know today is that, like billboards, Rome would put up the crucified on the way into any city it controlled to broadcast its power. Yet Jesus rides in on a colt, proclaiming His presence and His identity, risking His life by saying, “I am here, and I am King.” So many rejoiced, but rather than welcome Him, the Pharisees beg Him, “Get your people under control!” Why? Because Rome is listening. Rome is listening, and Rome intended to control the city and broadcast the kingship of the Emperor. The Pharisees, feeling as though Rome were just too strong, felt more comfortable keeping quiet. What’s the matter with that? Following Jesus requires us to step beyond what we are comfortable with. Every day, He calls us to follow Him as He leads us beyond what we are used to and towards the Kingdom of God. “Take up your Cross, the Savior said” is how the hymn goes. If you would my disciple be; Take up your cross with willing heart, and humbly follow after me. That’s a good hymn to sing, though it’s a hard hymn to live. That’s why I admire those two disciples made horse thieves. They heard Him speak, and they decided to follow Jesus. Again, they did the uncomfortable thing. Just as they dropped their nets, turned away from their old lives, and followed Him, they went and borrowed Him a colt, whether they felt comfortable or not. Doing uncomfortable things like that is such a part of growing up and living the Christian life. It’s right there in 1st Corinthians: When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways. That’s the life of faith, and so Scripture describes marriage like this: a man will leave his father and mother and will be joined to his wife, and the two will become one flesh. It’s a choice. One or the other, and those who find it too uncomfortable to stop appeasing his parents are forced to live on the set of Everybody Loves Raymond. Friends, we are all the time being asked to leave our old lives behind to follow where He leads, and today I am convinced that the way to choose which way is the right one is by listening to our discomfort by doing strange things, for so often, what we are destined for lies just outside of our comfort zonse, and what brings the most satisfaction isn’t what comes easy but what comes at great cost. This is the way of love. There’s a great stewardship illustration that Mike Velardi shared with me a couple years ago. He encouraged me to use it during our annual pledge campaign. He said that the chicken and the pig were talking about what they would give to the master’s breakfast table. The chicken gladly gave her contribution, two eggs, which she was comfortable giving, while the pig realized he was being asked to make a commitment. Certainly, Palm Sunday is a commitment kind of Sunday. Recognize that what He’s on His way to is not a comfortable contribution but an uncomfortable commitment. That’s where His parade leads. He rides a colt, though He is the lamb of God, Himself the sacrifice to take away the sin of the world. As the great sign of His love, He offers this world His life. Well beyond His comfort zone, He proves that the stone the builders, the Pharisees, and so many others rejected, deserves to be the Chief Cornerstone of our lives. Even when it’s uncomfortable, follow Him. Why? Because by His love, He proves that He can be trusted. Amen.