We Wish to See Jesus, a sermon based on John 10: 11-18, preached on April 21, 2024

Last Friday, Rev. Brandon Owen of First Baptist Church and his wife, Lesley Ann, invited Sara and me out for dinner to Two Birds Taphouse on the Square. That sounds like the beginning of an old joke: A presbyterian minister, a Baptist minister, and their wives walk into a bar. We had dinner at Two Birds, and last Friday, every staff member had on matching t-shirts. It was one employee’s last night working at Two Birds before she moved to Greece, and every staff member wanted to celebrate her. They all had on matching shirts, and customers could help her raise money for the big move by putting a little cash into the jar. I was excited to do that. Rev. Brandon Owen was as well, and it got me thinking about what a special workplace Jeff and Rachel Byrd have created in that restaurant they own, where the customers love the staff, the staff loves and supports each other, and this one staff member was so sad to leave. This staff member, Alex, had been working at Two Birds since the restaurant opened seven years ago. In the restaurant industry, that’s a long time, so while I’m sure she stayed that long in her job because of the pay or because the hours worked for her life, when I think about the matching t-shirts and the number of people wanting to wish her well, I could see why she stayed for so long. She didn’t have a typical job, and she didn’t work for a typical boss. I know a father who once told his son that people stay in jobs for one of three reasons: the money is good, they love the people they work with, or they feel good about what they’re doing. I think he’s right about that. People will stay in jobs for the money, even if they don’t like the people they work with and they don’t really enjoy the work that they’re doing. They’ll also stay in jobs because they love the people they work with even if the money isn’t good and they don’t especially love the work. They’ll also stay on because the work matters. I think of teachers and school counselors and social workers. The money is OK, but no one teaches for the money. Teachers teach because the work matters. Police officers put their lives on the line because they have the chance to make a difference. Now, imagine how many teachers would teach or how many police officers would sign on if they got paid what they deserve. Have you seen those police cars out everywhere advertising that the MPD is hiring? This father also said, “Son, if you ever find a job with two of those things, you won’t ever leave.” I feel especially blessed to have all three. I’m grateful for that, but I wonder about everybody else who is just working for a living. Are you just working for the money? This morning our second Scripture lesson from the Gospel of John is all about the Good Shepherd. He’s not like the hired hand or any typical shepherd. He’s different, but before we can really appreciate Him, think with me about a typical shepherd. A typical shepherd is something like a typical boss. A typical shepherd isn’t bad or evil; he’s just a shepherd. I knew a man back in Tennessee who raised cattle for a living, and he always got frustrated in Sunday school classes and Bible studies because people would talk about shepherds without knowing anything about them. They’d be reading Psalm 23: The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul. That’s all good and right and true, but if the shepherd in the psalm is anything like the man I knew who raised cattle, some sheep from the fold would be dinner soon enough. That’s what shepherds do. Shepherds raise sheep and turn those sheep into sweaters at best and lamb chops at worst. That’s the deal with a normal shepherd. That’s what a typical shepherd does. How does a shepherd act? In what way does a shepherd take care of his sheep? Does he hug the sheep and lie down beside them? Does he pick burrs out of their wool and make sure they’re fed and watered? Sure. Most shepherds are going to do some of that the same way that most employers are going to take decent care of their staff, but how does the shepherd make a living? Why does the shepherd have sheep at all? It’s so he can shear them or milk them or eat them. And that’s the reality that most of us know. Whether it’s our bosses or our boyfriends, many people want something from us. Will they take care of us? Will they protect us? Will they help us out? Sure, they will, but they also want to get paid. They’ll scratch our backs if we scratch theirs. Our bosses will pay us in exchange for our labor. Our politicians will learn our names and listen to our concerns, but they also want our votes. Even pastors can be like this. How many pastors have I known who were wonderful and kind and supportive, but as soon as I joined the church or turned in my pledge card, I was no longer the center of attention because he got what he wanted from me, and he had other sheep to go and find. I haven’t ever wanted to be that kind of shepherd. I’ve wanted to be more like the Good Shepherd, who, as Rev. Cassie Waits just said in the children’s sermon, knows my name, for the world is full of transactional relationships. We work for a paycheck. We exchange money for haircuts and checkups. We spend money so that we can buy goods and services. This is the way it is, often enough. However, this is not the only way it is, for while our world is full of shepherds who treat us fine but want something from us, the Good Shepherd knows our names, and it’s not because He wants something from us. As a matter of fact, while a typical shepherd will sheer or milk or kill his sheep to make a living, the Good Shepherd lays down His life for the sheep. He died to save us, and what does He ask in return? He asks us to go and do likewise. John 15: 9 and 12 says, “as the father has loved me, so I have loved you… this is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.” That happens often enough. Back to Two Birds. Sitting in Two Birds, thinking about those t-shirts and the staff celebrating their coworker who was leaving and wishing her well, Rev. Brandon Owen told us about this experience he had at a Braves game. He was right in the middle of a financial transaction at Truist Park. He was paying too much for a hot dog when he received a message from his mother telling him that his Aunt Sonya had died. As he told us this, he told me that I remind him of his Aunt Sonya, and Sara said, “Joe sometimes reminds me of a 65-year-old woman, too.” I don’t know what she meant by that, but I thought it was funny. We laughed, and Brandon went on with his story. As the news of his Aunt Sonya’s death sunk in, tears filled his eyes, so when he gave his credit card to the woman at the concession stand, she saw the tears and asked him what happened. My friend, Rev. Brandon Owen of First Baptist Church, just opened up to the stranger at the concession stand. He told her he just got news that his aunt had died, and she reached over the barrier between them and hugged him. That’s a great story, right? He’s already told it in a sermon, so he said I could use it. I tell it to you this morning because, while the way of the world may be quid pro quo, the way of Jesus is also at work in our lives. People are following the way of Jesus in this dog-eat-dog world too, and I don’t want you to ever forget it. Think about all those times someone went the extra mile or showed you kindness without expecting anything in return. Has it ever happened that the person in front of you at the drive through window paid for your order? Or has it ever happened that the good people in your office rallied together to support you through a hard time? Last Friday, I was preaching the funeral for Fannette Adams, and right during the welcome, tears came to my eyes. They came to my eyes because it was a Friday afternoon at 2:00, and yet the whole Sanctuary was full. A whole congregation showed up to be there for Fannette’s family. They were daughter Emily’s coworkers. They were elders who serve on the Session beside Bebe. They were Fannette’s high school classmates. They were neighbors and friends. They all stood as the family walked into the Sanctuary, and as I stood in the pulpit looking around, I was moved to tears because there He was. There He was in His church where the followers of the Good Shepherd were loving each other just as He loves them. His love for us isn’t too good to be true, and His commandment is that we accept His love, let it fill us up, and show this world that we live in, where too many people struggle to see the light because of all the darkness, that the Light of our Risen Lord, Jesus Christ, will not go out, for He is Risen. Halleluiah. Amen.

Have You Anything Here to Eat, a sermon based on Luke 24: 36-48 preached on April 14, 2024

Several years ago, there was a trend to wear bracelets with the letters “WWJD” on them. The bracelets were meant to remind the wearer to ask him or herself, “What would Jesus do?” I remember wearing one as a teenager, and so while driving, I’d occasionally glance at the bracelet and would check my speedometer, asking myself, “Would Jesus speed?” or, joking with friends, maybe making fun of someone we knew, I’d glance at the bracelet and would ask myself, “Would Jesus be laughing right now?” That was the intended purpose of the bracelet, yet given the supernatural abilities of Jesus, Dr, David Bartlett, a well-known Bible scholar, once asked the question, “What would Jesus do?” and said, “Jesus would give the blind man his sight. Jesus would make the leper clean. Jesus would multiply the bread and fish to feed thousands. Jesus would face death without fear. Jesus would die and on the third day, would rise again.” In other words, it’s not always good to ask ourselves, “What would Jesus do?” because there are things that Jesus can do that we cannot. Jesus, the son of God, did supernatural things, and yet, Jesus, the risen Christ, also did perfectly human things. The Bible tells us that Jesus wept, just as we do. Jesus laughed, just as we do. When Jesus stormed the Temple and toppled the tables of the money changers, it was because Jesus got angry, just as we do. Now, in our Second Scripture lesson, Jesus, the risen Christ, Who has done the most supernatural thing of all by rising from the dead, follows up this awe-inspiring miracle by asking his disciples, “Have you anything here to eat?” Eating is not supernatural. Jesus got hungry; we get hungry. Being hungry and asking friends for something to eat is an act that everyone here is capable of, so while I don’t doubt the power of God, Who might enable one of us to walk on water or speak in another language, think with me today about Jesus, the divine Miracle Worker, the One who conquers death and is risen to rule the world and what has He to teach us in asking this question, “Have you anything here to eat?” What does it mean that Jesus who wept, who laughed, who got angry, also got hungry, and when He got hungry, He made a request of his disciples, “Have you anything here to eat?” when likely He could have waved His hand and produced a five-course meal or touched His belly and freed Himself from such mortal struggles as being hungry. Have you ever wished you wouldn’t get hungry? I wish I could resist tortilla chips at Mexican restaurants. Why can’t I stop eating them? “What would Jesus do?” the bracelet asks. I say, “Jesus would never give into the temptation of tortilla chips the way I do,” and yet Jesus, the risen Christ, asked His disciples, “Have you anything here to eat?” Why? I believe it is because they were afraid, and Jesus knows that there are a million tiny things that reduce our fear. He knows that there are hundreds of tiny gestures that make us feel safe. One of them is sharing a meal, but another is a simple handshake. Have you ever thought much about the power of a handshake? Imagine with me that you’ve just signed a contract with a new business partner, and when you go to shake her hand, she keeps her hands in her pockets. How are you going to feel? What I’m trying to say is that a handshake is more than a handshake. And a meal is more than food. Jesus knows that. Have you ever experienced it? I have. Just last week, I was on my way to a Presbyterian pastors conference in Moab, Utah. It was for Presbyterian ministers at larger Presbyterian churches. Only 15 were invited from across the country, so I was honored to be invited and proud to be a pastor at a larger Presbyterian church. A wealthy donor put us all up in a beautiful lodge next to a river. The only catch was that to get there I had to fly in a plane that didn’t have TVs. I sat down and there was no built-in TV for me to watch. In fact, there was a sticker where the TV might have been that said, “At this seat, we’re pleased to offer you free personal device entertainment.” Translation: You don’t get a TV to watch movies. You can look at your phone or use your laptop, so I put in my earbuds and took out my computer. Later, the flight attendants came around with snacks. Because they charged me $40 to check my luggage, I thought they were also going to charge me for a snack, yet lo and behold, the flight attendant came to our row with off-brand Chex Mix and full cans of ginger ale. Closing my computer and taking out my ear buds to focus on eating my snack, the woman next to me, who noticed that I had been working on this sermon, asked me if I was Roman Catholic or Presbyterian. “Presbyterian,” I responded, “but how did you guess that?” I asked. She saw the sermon I had been working on and noticed the bulletin draft I had open. Knowing that her nondenominational church doesn’t use the liturgy that we do, she put it together that I must be Roman Catholic or Presbyterian. Then, I introduced myself. I told her my name. She told me hers and that she lives near Peachtree City. I told her that I live in Marietta. The next thing I know, she’s telling me about her son who lives near the Battery, her other son who is doing his residency in Albuquerque, and her youngest son, also named Joe, who died by suicide two years ago. I told her I was sorry. She thanked me for listening. Would she have told me that if no off-brand Chex Mix had been provided? I doubt it because a handshake is not just a handshake. A meal is not just a meal. Knowing that, this morning I draw your attention to a most human request that the resurrected Jesus makes of His disciples: Have you anything here to eat? He’s just done the most supernatural thing that He could possibly do. Rising from the dead is so amazing, so supernatural, so miraculous that the disciples can’t even believe He’s real. Did you notice that in our second Scripture lesson? They were all disbelieving and wondering, so He invited them to touch His hands and His feet, yet that wasn’t enough. As Dr. Bartlett said, “What would Jesus do? Give the blind his sight, heal the leper, multiply the loaves and fishes.” There are all kinds of supernatural things that Jesus does that keep Him outside our grasp and keep us from understanding Who He is, so this morning, think with me about this most human thing that He does, this most basic thing He does, which is also something that from time to time defies our grasp because we get busy doing all kinds of other things so that we don’t eat together either. What keeps us from sitting down and eating together? Maybe one kid has baseball practice three nights a week. The other has dance lessons. Plus, they both have after-school tutoring to get ahead. Parents work. Dogs must be walked. The grass must be cut. All kinds of important meetings and enriching activities have families moving in so many different directions that getting around the dinner table for a shared meal can seem impossible, so when I hear Jesus ask, “Have you anything here to eat?” while I don’t hear anything supernatural in the request, and while I don’t hear anything impossible, I do hear Him teaching us something important and life changing. I hear Jesus, the perfect, sinless, miracle-working, Son of God, revealing once again the incredible gift that we look over, for He is there in the breaking of the bread. That’s what we say so often at the communion table, and yet the kitchen table is an ordinary miracle with healing powers all its own. In my first or second year of ministry, I was invited over for lunch by a mother in the congregation. The invitation came about three weeks after I had been asked by the local newspaper what the Bible really says about homosexuality. In 250 words, I wrote my response. I wrote that while there are passages in the Bible that speak to the issue, Jesus never mentions it, and if Jesus never mentions it, then why do we spend so much time talking about it? That’s all I wrote, but that statement was enough for one member of the congregation to photocopy the article and place it on every pew in the sanctuary while another member of the church held a petition for people to sign if they’d like for me to be fired. It wasn’t the best day of my life, and it was followed by multiple lunches where I was lectured. Multiple cups of coffee where I was interrogated. I would go to visit church members in the hospital, and after I prayed for them, they’d tell me how they felt about what I wrote. Three weeks after I wrote the article, this mother invited me to her home for lunch, and I remember calling Sara from the driveway, “I hope this is the last one. I’m tired of this.” When I walked in, she was visibly nervous. She had prepared too much food for us to eat. I remember there being a bowl of chicken salad and another bowl of tuna salad. We ate in awkward silence for at least 30 minutes before she finally asked, “Can you really tell me that my son isn’t going to hell?” Have you anything here to eat? That’s the question that Jesus asks. Moreover, it’s a question that we all ask because we are all hungry, yet it’s not only a question about food, for a handshake is not just a handshake nor is a meal just a meal. A meal is an invitation to see Jesus as He is, right here, risen and with us, so sit down and eat with people. Eat with your family. Invite your neighbors over. Why? Because we don’t see Jesus clearly even though He is always with us nor do we see each other clearly because we are moving too fast, yet when we sit down to break bread together, we remember that He is with us, and He will be with us forever. Halleluiah. Amen.

Whom Are You Looking For? A sermon based on John 20: 1-18, preached on March 31, 2024

Last Wednesday morning, I was emptying the dishwasher, and as I began putting the clean glasses back in the cupboard, I noticed that several glasses were missing. However, I knew where to find them. I won’t tell you which daughter, but of the two, we have one who loves to take a glass of water up to her room yet is unable to bring the empty glass back to the kitchen. I don’t know why this would be. It’s one of the great mysteries of life. Occasionally, in a fit of frustration, I go upstairs to my daughter’s room. There, on her bedside table last Wednesday morning, were nine glasses. Nine. Her bedside table does not have room enough for all those glasses, so they sat there precariously, stacked one upon the other. You can possibly tell that this habit of hers gets on my nerves. It gets on my nerves because I can’t understand it. I picked up the glasses one by one to take them downstairs to the dishwasher. As I was attempting to hold all nine in two hands so that I might carry them all down in one trip, I noticed that the nine glasses were covering up a valentine’s card. The card wasn’t signed, but I believe it came from her grandmother. Here it is. I stole it, and this is what it says, this valentine to our daughter from her grandmother: The way you are is awesome. The way you are is smart. The way you are is fun and funny, Kind and full of heart. The way you are is magic. The way you are is wow! No wonder you’re so loved for just the way you are right now! That’s what you think, Grandma. You don’t have to pick up her dirty glasses. That’s what I thought to myself for just a second, before I thought about how true those words are. Looking around, I noticed again that there is so much in her bedroom besides an accumulation of dirty glasses. On her wall are multiple awards. One, which she received just the night before, came from her coach who remarked on how mature she is. How respectful. How kind, so slowly but surely, my frustration with one aspect of my daughter retreated so that I might take in the whole of who she is. Has something like this ever happened to you? Do you know what I’m talking about? The Rev. Joe Brice, who served here as an associate pastor for several years (He’s now at the Presbyterian Church in Rockmart.), likes to say, “What you focus on, you get more of.” What does that mean? It means that when I’m pulling weeds, weeds are what I see. It means that when I read the newspaper, the more I focus on typos, the more typos I see. Just last week, I was reading an article on the bridge disaster in Baltimore. The paper I was reading reported that there was an accident on the Francis Key Scott Bridge. That’s not right. It was the Francis Scott Key Bridge, yet the typo is beside the point. Why focus on typos when people have been injured? Why focus on typos when people have died? However, in focusing on tragedy, the same thing happens. When we focus on it, we see more and more. Surely, Mary woke up that Easter morning and said to her family, “Make your own breakfast. I can’t think about it.” Who could think about breakfast amid such a devastating tragedy as what she’d witnessed? I imagine that in the days after His crucifixion, the agony on His face was imprinted on her consciousness. Having watched Him suffer, seen the blood that dripped down His cheeks, heard the crowd who shouted for His death, followed on the slow march to the place where He would be crucified, those images haunted her dreams. I imagine that all the details and all the joy of life fell away so that tragedy was all that she could see. When tragedy walks in, it just takes over, doesn’t it? When injustice appears, it’s hard to think of anything else. And so that Easter morning so long ago, I’m not surprised that Mary didn’t see Him. What we focus on we get more of, and what Mary was focused on was tragedy and injustice, so when she went to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb, she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciples and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” My friends, we know that’s not what happened; we know that this is no case of a missing corpse, but think with me about why Mary Magdalene assumed someone had stolen His body. Think with me about why Mary looked up and, in seeing a man, assumed He was the gardener. She couldn’t see Him, in the same way that when I get focused on the part of our daughters that gets on my nerves, I can’t see the whole of who they are. She couldn’t see Him, just as those who read for typos miss the content. Why would Mary Magdalene, consumed by tragedy and injustice, show up at the empty tomb and assume that someone had stolen His body? It’s because what we focus on, we get more of. What we expect to see, we see. If I’ve been watching the news for too long, I go out into the world expecting to be robbed. If I listen to what the talking heads say about illegal immigration, I go out into the world angry and afraid. Just after a funeral, I get so messed up in my head. Tragedy takes over. It takes a minute for me to remember that death will not have the final word. Last week, I sat with my family at the funeral of a 42-year-old mother of four. That funeral was so tragic and so heartbreaking that I fell into a depression. I looked out onto the world preparing myself for the other shoe to drop. In my subconscious mind were questions like: What’s going to happen next? What is God going to take from me next? Where is the next hurt going to come from? When will the next disaster strike? I asked these questions because the tragedy was all that I could see. The tragedy is real, “and yet,” the preacher at that funeral said. “And yet,” is such an important phrase. The preacher at the funeral last week told us that he’d walk with Josh, the widower, and that Josh would say, “I’ve never been through such a hard time, and yet, the church has been there for us every day. I’ve never been so angry with God, and yet, the flowers of spring have never been so beautiful.” That stuck with me because, my friends, there is plenty for us to be upset about. There is plenty of tragedy for us to focus on. If we only focus on the tragedy, though, we will miss the One who is standing right in front of us. “Mary,” Jesus said to her. When He first appeared, she thought He was the gardener, for like me, like us, like our world, she was so practiced in being disappointed that she had no room in her vision for a miracle. What we focus on, we get more of, and I want you to know this morning, that I’m tired of being focused on tragedy. I’m tired of being focused on the bad news. I’m ready to hear the Good News, and I want you to know that the Good News is just as real and as true as anything else, yet we are so practiced in being disappointed that tragedy is clouding our vision, so on this Easter morning, I’m calling on you to see through the lens of faith. I want you to practice your Easter vision. (That’s not exactly what I mean, but it’s close). I’m talking about how I wake up in the morning, look myself I the mirror, and all I see is how the hair that was once on the top of my head is now sprouting from my nostrils. It’s been said that we produce up to 50,000 thoughts per day, and 80% of those are negative. The impact of all those negative thoughts is that we’re dragging through life, preparing ourselves to be disappointed, so remember, thoughts are not the same as reality. The Evil One will use our thoughts against us, and so I ask you this Easter morning the same question that the Risen Lord, Jesus Christ asked Mary Magdalene so long ago, “Whom are you looking for?” Are you looking for death? You will find it. Are you looking for injustice? You will find it. Are you looking to be disappointed? Are you looking for signs that the world is falling apart? Are you looking for a reason to give up hope? You will find it. And yet, if you are looking for the Lord Jesus, you will find Him too, for He is risen. Every morning, I wake up and I write down 10 things that I’m thankful for. Just 10. Every time I get started, I get stuck. It’s slow going because I’m trying to be grateful for what God is doing in my life right after I’ve read the newspaper which has reported on how the world is falling apart. The world has taught me to focus on the flaws, not to be thankful but to complain, and so when I sit down to write down what I’m thankful for, I’ll write down one or two, then I’ll slow down, and I won’t know what to write next, and yet, once I get going, once I reframe my thinking, once the powers of sin and death lose their grip on my consciousness, I can’t stop writing. I can’t stop giving thanks to God who has provided me with a house in which to live, a wife who loves me, two beautiful children, a church to serve, an office with books, the sun that shines, flowers that bloom, springtime all around, for He is risen. Just take a moment to think about it with me. Think about this choir, think about this Great Hall, think about how far we’ve come, and be reminded of the truth: He is risen. Now look around and see these people. Who are they that the Lord has surrounded you with? Criminals? People who will take from you? No. These are your brothers and sisters in Christ, for the message that the world has been pushing into our ears is a false gospel, a lie, meant to manipulate us and push us into despair and isolation. Remember that He is risen and greet your neighbor with joy in your heart. I’ve been moping around too long. You know that? I’ve been moping around too long, focused on what I don’t have. I’ve been moping around too long, afraid that someone is going to take something from me, when the Lord has given me everything. My friends, He is risen. In His wings comes salvation. In His death comes to us the gift of everlasting life. Go out into the world, prepared to see Him, for He is risen. He’s not dead. Hope is not dead. Love is not dead. For He is risen. That’s the message of Easter. The cold earth gives way to the blooms of tulips. Broken relationships are mended by the miracle of forgiveness. And broken people like us, the Lord shows up to us, redefining us. Bringing life to everything. Halleluiah. Amen.