April 29th Sermon – The Shepherd’s Voice

Hi friends! Here’s this week’s sermon. I pray God speaks to you in exciting ways this week!

SCRIPTURE – John 10:22-30

 Then came the Feast of Dedication at Jerusalem. It was winter, and Jesus was in the temple area walking in Solomon’s Colonnade. The Jews gathered around him, saying, “How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Christ, tell us plainly.” Jesus answered, “I did tell you, but you do not believe. The miracles I do in my Father’s name speak for me, but you do not believe because you are not my sheep. My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one can snatch them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all; no one can snatch them out of my Father’s hand. I and the Father are one.”

SERMON
The Shepherd’s Voice
John 10:22-30
April 29, 2007

It has long been the dream of human beings to be able to communicate with our animal friends. Can you imagine how much money is spent each year studying dolphin squeaks and monkey hoots to see if they are actually saying anything? The movies often play on this fantasy: the talking pig in “Babe,” the mouse in “Stuart Little,” the spider in “
Charlotte’s Web.”

Well, according to Christian author Leonard Sweet, the Japanese have made some real-life advances in this area. According to an article, the Japanese have created technology that translates dogs’ barks into human words. A transmitter chip and speaker are put into the dog’s collar, and each “yip” or “arf” is translated and reported in human words. This technology does not work for cats; c’mon, that would just be silly.

The barks are translated into six different categories, like Happy, Sad, or On Guard. When the doorbell rings, you may hear a bark and then the words, “Watch out.” Or when you come in from getting the paper, you may be greeted by an electronic voice saying, “You’re home! You’re home!” The device can also count the number of times your dog barks while you are away, so that you can ensure he’s isn’t making any unauthorized long-distance phone calls.

Granted, this sounds a little far-fetched. When you walk into the room with a new dress on, can the dog really be saying, “You’re going to wear THAT?” And I’m not quite sure that when you forget to let your dog outside he really says, “I’m calling my lawyer.” Still, the concept is intriguing. Oh, the device is called the “Bow-lingual.”

A lot of pet owners would tell you they don’t need the “Bow-lingual.” If you own a pet long enough, we have come to believe that you can begin to interact and understand each other. The longer we are with the pet, the better we know each other.

That’s the point Jesus is getting to in our passage today. While teaching at the Temple, he is approached by a group of Jews: “Look, you’ve kept us waiting too long. If you’re the Messiah, tell us right now.” But Jesus realizes that a positive answer to that question wouldn’t do any good, because, although he was the Messiah, he wasn’t the Messiah they were expecting. He also knows that the fact they even need to ask the question shows they haven’t been paying attention. If they’d been watching him, they would have seen he was the Messiah by the way he embodied God in his words and behavior. But, he says, they didn’t see this because they weren’t looking for it.

To make this point, Jesus uses the analogy of a shepherd and his sheep. This analogy would have been a familiar one to those listening to Jesus, because shepherding was a common occupation back then. And the relationship a shepherd shared with his sheep was more than just one driven by duty. They spent so much time together that they were more like pet and its owner.

We may think of sheep as slobbering, smelly, dumb animals that only exist to be shaved or served in a restaurant, but they are actually fairly intelligent creatures. One way we can know is how you herd them. To herd cows, you have to get behind them and push and prod and poke. But to herd sheep, you walk in front of them, and they follow. Sheep will not go anywhere unless someone else goes first – and that’s the shepherd’s job.

We also know sheep are intelligent because of their ability to pick out their shepherd’s voice. Barbara Brown Taylor tells us that at the end of the day, several flocks of sheep would gather at the same watering hole for a drink before the walk home. The flocks would intermingle as they drank, but the shepherds didn’t worry about losing one of their own. When the time came, the shepherd would make a distinctive sound – a cluck of the tongue, a two-note whistle – and his sheep would instantly recognize that peculiar sound as their shepherd’s voice. They would pull away from the watering hole and follow their shepherd home.

John, who wrote this gospel, has an important reason for relaying Jesus’ comments about sheep. His own flock, the church he founded, had been infiltrated by false shepherds, teachers who were perpetrating a gospel contrary to the one of Jesus Christ. And the sad thing is that some of John’s flock were beginning to believe them. They had stopped listening to their Shepherd’s voice.

Are we just as vulnerable? Just think how many voices are out there clamoring for our attention. We’re bombarded from the moment the alarm clock goes off with music or a buzzer – our breakfast table conversations, business meetings, grocery store dialogues, cell phone conversations, TV shows, the irritating hum of traffic, the spiel of the telemarketer. The cacophony of sound is almost constant. The best word to describe it is a “din,” which Webster’s defines as “a loud, confused noise.” Is there a more accurate way to describe what faces us each day?

In the midst of all the sounds we hear on a daily basis, in the middle of all the voices competing for our attention, how are we supposed to hear the voice of our Shepherd? The only way we will recognize it is if we hear it again and again. Often times I’ll hear someone on TV and think, “I know that voice from somewhere!” But I don’t recognize it because I hear it so infrequently.

Do we hear God’s voice so infrequently that we don’t recognize it? I’m not talking about a physical conversation. While that would be nice, God speaks to us in others ways. Do you have trouble hearing Him? So do I. We have to be patient. Sometimes it’s a whistle and sometimes it’s a cluck. Sometimes it’s through a Bible passage, or through prayer, or through our conversations with each other. But our Shepherd does speak to us, and every word spoken has some distinctive elements to it that sets it apart, much like the cluck or the whistle of an earthly shepherd.

First, our Shepherd will always speak a word of hope. Hope is what our faith is grounded upon. Hope sees God at work even in the darkest of circumstances. As Jesus says, “I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish.” If the voice we hear speaks of despair and doom and fatalism, it’s probably not the voice of the Shepherd.

The Shepherd also speaks a word of trust. So many voices in our world today speak of fear or skepticism, telling us to be on our guard against someone else. But our Shepherd casts out fear from our lives. Jesus says, “No one can snatch my sheep out of my hand.” If the voice invites distrust, it’s probably not the voice of the Shepherd.

Forgiveness is another thing we can hear in our Shepherd’s voice. Christ came to this earth and died on a cross so we would know the power of forgiveness. Yet so many voices today speak of revenge, or hatred, or the differences that keep us apart. If the voice is promoting an eye for any eye, if we hear an “us vs. them” mentality, it’s not the voice of the Shepherd.

Finally, the Shepherd will always speak a word of truth. It may not be the word we want to hear, because the truth being told may be about us. It may call us out for being less than Godly in our words and actions. If the voice only tells you how great you are, or only tells you how bad you are, it’s definitely not the voice of the Shepherd.

God breaks through the loud, confused noise of our world to speak words of hope, trust, forgiveness, and truth. And as we hear the voice of the Shepherd, we are called to echo that voice. We are called to speak words of hope, trust, forgiveness, and truth.

As Molly increases her vocabulary, she learns words by repeating everything we say. She’s like a parrot. She’s learned the words to the “Gloria Patri” because she hears us sing it every week, so she’ll go around the house singing, “Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Homey Boat.” She’s close. And as she continues to learn, she’ll continue to sing, echoing the words she has learned on Sunday as she lives on Monday. How about us? Do the words we say on Monday sound anything like the words we hear Christ speak on Sunday? Do we go around the house, or around school, or around work repeating what we’ve heard, singing God’s praises? Do we hear the voice in worship and then forget what we’ve been told? Or do we sound like our Shepherd?

In his book “Testimony,” Tom Long tells the story about a conversation he had with a prominent church leader from the former Soviet Union. Long asked him what it was like to try to live out your faith in such a hostile and controlled environment. The Russian leader said it was quite difficult. KGB agents would infiltrate the church, posing as clergy. He said he would go to church meetings and see the spies in their midst.

“We always knew who they were,” he said. “You did? How?” said Long. “I thought they were secret agents.” “Oh, they were, but we could tell,” he said. “There was something in their voice that gave them away.”

Something in their voice. You can do all kinds of things to disguise yourself, but the voice holds the true essence of a person. What you say and how you say it reveal a truth, not just about you, but about the One to whom you listen.

When you speak, what do people hear? Do they hear a loud, confused noise, or do they hear a word of truth, a word of forgiveness, a word of compassion? Do they hear in your voice the echo of the Good Shepherd’s voice? As we speak, I wonder if the world would know us as Christians by the sound of our voices.

QUESTIONS
1 – What is one voice that if you heard it, you would always immediately recognize it?

2 – Have you ever heard God “speak” to you? How?

3 – What’s one thing you can say this week to someone that will echo the voice of our Shepherd?

Risking It All

Mark 12:41-44 – Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a fraction of a penny. Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, “I tell you the truth, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on.”

When I played Little League baseball, one of the encouragements my mother used to shout (much to my embarrassment) was, “Give it your all!” We often hear about athletes “giving 110 percent” on the field. Sometimes the church even implores us to “give until it feels good” because, as we are often reminded on Stewardship Sunday, “God loves a cheerful giver.”

But in all of those cases, the completeness of the giving is only temporary. The athlete rests and recuperates, the church member’s bank account replenishes, and Mom always rewarded my effort with an ice cream cone.

In contrast, the widow gave her all without any foreseeable restitution. The rich gave large amounts, then rode home on their BMW camels to the swanky suburbs of
Jerusalem. When the widow left the temple after dropping her last two coins in the offering plate, she probably didn’t know where her next meal would come from.

She is often lifted up as the model of giving, but in reality, she is the model for financial irresponsibility. Debt consolidation companies would have a field day with her! Who gives everything they have without some sort of backup plan – and to the church, no less! Could there be a less sound investment?

In our risk-averse culture, we are persuaded to horde our resources, lest we face the situation of needing them and not having them. But in reality, most of us live with just the opposite: we have them, but we really don’t need them. Jesus calls us to give them away, to restore a sense of balance to our society where the rich do indeed only get richer.

But the widow gives more than just her money; she gives herself. She puts her future into the hands of God, trusting that provision will be made. Are we more likely to trust God or Charles Schwab? Are we banking on Jesus Christ, or only banking with Smith Barney? Christ calls us to give all of ourselves to the work of the kingdom. If we make that commitment, the rest will fall in line: “For where your treasure is, there your heart is, also” (Matthew 6:21).

Holy God, I acknowledge that everything I have comes from You. Help me move from closed fists to open hands as I strive to be a good steward of all my resources, most especially the life with which you have blessed me. May the way I live and the choices I make bring You glory. Amen.

Converted to Christ

Greetings everyone! Here is Sunday’s sermon. I look forward to your comments. Have a great week!

SCRIPTURE – Acts 9:1-20

Meanwhile, Saul was still breathing out murderous threats against the Lord’s disciples. He went to the high priest and asked him for letters to the synagogues in Damascus, so that if he found any there who belonged to the Way, whether men or women, he might take them as prisoners to Jerusalem. As he neared Damascus on his journey, suddenly a light from heaven flashed around him. He fell to the ground and heard a voice say to him, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” ”Who are you, Lord?” Saul asked.  ”I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting,” he replied. 6“Now get up and go into the city, and you will be told what you must do.”

The men traveling with Saul stood there speechless; they heard the sound but did not see anyone. Saul got up from the ground, but when he opened his eyes he could see nothing. So they led him by the hand into Damascus. For three days he was blind, and did not eat or drink anything. 

In Damascus there was a disciple named Ananias. The Lord called to him in a vision, “Ananias!” ”Yes, Lord,” he answered. The Lord told him, “Go to the house of Judas on Straight Street and ask for a man from Tarsus named Saul, for he is praying. In a vision he has seen a man named Ananias come and place his hands on him to restore his sight.”

“Lord,” Ananias answered, “I have heard many reports about this man and all the harm he has done to your saints in Jerusalem. And he has come here with authority from the chief priests to arrest all who call on your name.”

But the Lord said to Ananias, “Go! This man is my chosen instrument to carry my name before the Gentiles and their kings and before the people of Israel. I will show him how much he must suffer for my name.”

Then Ananias went to the house and entered it. Placing his hands on Saul, he said, “Brother Saul, the Lord—Jesus, who appeared to you on the road as you were coming here—has sent me so that you may see again and be filled with the Holy Spirit.” Immediately, something like scales fell from Saul’s eyes, and he could see again. He got up and was baptized, and after taking some food, he regained his strength.

Saul spent several days with the disciples in Damascus. At once he began to preach in the synagogues that Jesus is the Son of God.

SERMON

Converted to Christ
Acts 9:1-20
April 22, 2007

Down through the years, the Bible has been a rich source of stories for Hollywood to dramatize on the big screen. “The Ten Commandments,” “The Prince of Egypt,” “The Passion of the Christ.” But no one has ever attempted to make a big-budget movie out of what I believe is one of the most dramatic scenes in the whole Bible, and that is the conversion of Paul on the road to Dasmascus.

Can’t you just see it? Paul – probably played by Russell Crowe or a bearded Brad Pitt – is set up as the bad guy, persecuting Christians and giving them the Tony Soprano treatment. Then, at the movie’s most spectacular moment, Paul riding his donkey toward Damascus when – cue the computer special effects! – the sky opens and a bright light shines down on him. Then Jesus – voiced, of course, by James Earl Jones – says, “Paul, Paul, why do you persecute me?” I don’t know about you, but I would pay $9.50 to see how Spielberg or Scorcese would interpret this story.

Paul certainly deserves that kind of attention for the role he plays in the development of Christianity. We’re first introduced to him at the stoning of Stephen, who was a Christ follower. Luke, who wrote the book of Acts, tells us that Saul (his pre-Damascus road name) was there, giving approval of this execution. Then, in Chapter 8, Luke says, “On that day a great persecution broke out against the church at Jerusalem, and all except the apostles were scattered throughout Judea and Samaria. Godly men buried Stephen and mourned deeply for him. But Saul began to destroy the church. Going from house to house, he dragged off men and women and put them in prison.”

Saul had it fixed in his mind that anyone who wasn’t for his Jewish beliefs was against them, include those who were claiming that Jesus was the Messiah. Paul was so zealous in his faith that he was willing to travel a week’s journey all the way to Damascus to arrest more Christians and make sure this dangerous fringe movement didn’t damage his beloved Judaism.

So Saul may have been intent on seizing the followers of Jesus, but instead it is Jesus who arrests Paul. A flash of light, a booming voice, a sudden blindness, and in an instant, the one who was Saul, the Christian persecutor, becomes Paul, the Christian missionary. This story is what a true conversion looks like.

For some people, that is. Although Luke never intends this to be the case, Paul’s conversion became the blueprint for how people were to come to faith. In fact, for centuries, a recitation of your conversion experience was often your ticket to church membership.

I play basketball on Fridays with a group of pastors from an evangelical church near me. I generally avoid any discussions of religion with them, but one day after we finished one of them began asking about our church and my own spiritual journey. I tried to steer the conversation in another direction because I knew where it was going, but before I could redirect, he said, “So, tell me your story.” My story? “Yeah, when were you saved?” In other words, he was asking for me to tell my Damascus road experience.

But here’s the problem: I don’t have one. I’ve never seen the bright flash of light, never heard the James Earl Jones voice, never had my world turned violently upside down by God. If you ask me, Paul had it easy! He gets the proof, and then comes to faith. Most of us come to faith, and then spend our lives looking for proof. I can’t point to an exact day and time when I went from unbeliever to believer. Although there have been times when my doubt was much stronger than my certainty, I don’t ever remember a time when I didn’t believe.

If a dramatic conversion were a requirement to become a member of our church or denomination, I don’t know how many of us be here today. I can’t give a day and time I started believing, because I’ve never stopped. My story of faith doesn’t have a “before” like Paul’s does. I guess I could give the date I joined the church, but that was only an outward sign of an inward belief I’d possessed ever since I could remember. While I know some of us can point to an exact day and time of our conversion, not all of us can.

So then what are we to do with a story like Paul’s? I would like you to entertain the thought that Paul’s experience isn’t the only conversion that takes place in our story today. I believe there is another one that may speak to us even more than Paul’s.

After Paul is struck blind, he is sent on ahead to Damascus to wait for further instructions. Meanwhile, God comes to a man named Ananias and says, “Go to see a man named Saul from Tarsus and restore his sight.” Now, Ananias is no dummy. He’s read the paper and heard the water-cooler talk. He knows what Saul has been doing. In fact, Ananias may have a brother or a cousin who has already felt Paul’s wrath. Have you ever had one of those moments where you say, “You want me to do WHAT, Lord?” This is one of those moments for Ananias. But he believes, so he goes to the former persecutor of the Christians, and greets him as “Brother Saul.”

I doubt a non-believer would have responded as Ananias did. How do most of us react when we are called to extend hospitality to an enemy, to someone with whom we are at odds? I doubt Ananias wanted to do Paul any harm, but I darn sure bet he didn’t want to do him any good.

I read an article recently about a church that was struggling with an issue similar to Ananias’. A man who had started attending the church and wanted to join was a convicted pedophile seeking to find forgiveness and a new start. As a church, what do you do there? I’m all for second chances, but I also have children. What do you do when God makes an enemy into an ally?

Ananias knew what Saul didn’t: God is a God who can do new things. Saul was rooted in the past, not open to seeing Jesus as the Messiah. But Ananias realized that God can soften even the hardest of hearts. Someone else in Ananias’ place might have sought vengeance for what Saul had done. But while we might wish for the destruction of our enemies, God works toward their transformation.

So who had the most dramatic conversion in this story? Was it Paul, who went from persecuting those who called on the name of the Lord to calling on that name himself? Or was it Ananias, who was able to lay healing hands on the man who was initially coming to Damascus to arrest Ananias and his friends?

With this story, I don’t believe Luke is making a statement about how we should come to faith. I’m sure each of us here could tell a unique story about our faith journey, even if it’s not completed yet. It’s obvious that God works in a variety of ways to bring people to faith. Author Flannery O’Connor said, “I reckon the Lord knew the only way to make a Christian out of Paul was to knock him off his horse.” But not everyone needs a strong push; some may only need a gentle nudge.

But the deeper message Luke offers here is what happens, not with Paul, but with Ananias. It’s interesting that Luke poses this one-time event conversion, but quickly follows it up with Ananias’ actions. Instead of Paul’s conversion being held up as the norm, I believe it is Ananias who teaches us about the experience of conversion.

Far from being a one-shot divine zap, I believe conversion needs to take place in us every day, because every day when we wake up, there’s something in us that isn’t Christ-like. It may be jealousy or resentment or pride or greed or immorality, but every day we need to be nudged or pushed or given a different kind of wakeup call than the one our alarm clock gives us. We never become so wise or so adept at faith that our conversion stops. I believe conversion is an ongoing process as we become less like who we were and more like who God wants us to be.

Ananias gives us a good benchmark to use so that we can mark our progress on this journey of conversion. When God comes to him with this task, Ananias responds with a simple, “Yes, Lord.” It’s probably not something Ananias would choose to do, but I believe the mark of a progressing Christian is that they have stopped doing what they want to do and started doing what Christ wants them to do. Conversion is the gradual, daily move from relying on ourselves to relying on God.

It’s not how we’re brought to faith that matters; what matters is that we finally do arrive. How can we know we’re arrived? When we start asking God, “What is it you want me to do?” The mark of conversion is a transformed life; Paul’s just happened to be a little more public than most others. But it’s Ananias who sets the more realistic example.

Ananias trusted God and was able to call Paul “brother.” Likewise, I’m converted every day as I am changed by my encounters with others, my observation of God’s creation, and countless experiences that provide new insights into the nature of God. I can’t prove my faith by pointing to a moment of conversion; I can only prove it in the same way Ananias did. He heard God’s call to him, and he obeyed.

QUESTIONS
1 – Do you have a conversion experience? Do you have a specific moment in your life to which you point as foundational to your belief?

2 – Have you ever felt God calling you specifically to love an enemy? How did you respond?

3 – Suppose we were the church which was struggling with how to treat a convicted criminal would wanted to join our church family. How do you think our church should respond?

Christians in the HOV Lanes

James 2:14-18

What good is it, my brothers, if a man claims to have faith but has no deeds? Can such faith save him? Suppose a brother or sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to him, “Go, I wish you well; keep warm and well fed,” but does nothing about his physical needs, what good is it? In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead. But someone will say, “You have faith; I have deeds.” Show me your faith without deeds, and I will show you my faith by what I do.

When I lived in the Washington, D.C. area right after high school, I worked afternoons at a doctor’s office in Springfield, Va. This was the height of my pre-Christian days, so I didn’t have much use in my life for religion. But there wase a group of nurses who worked there that I really liked. I called them “The God Squad” because they were all so religious and not afraid to tell you so. There was Burma and Regina, but Janice, she was the ringleader; she would really get them going.

I’d say, “Hey everyone, the coffee is ready.”

She’d shout, “Praise the Lord, the coffee’s ready!”

“OK, you get the decaf today.”

If our computer network went down, they’d have a laying on of hands on my computer. I had a lot of fun teasing them about their faith, but there was an unspoken part of me that admired them, because they were able to believe in something I couldn’t. They had something, this faith, that seemed wonderful, and I secretly longed for the same thing. I often thought about asking Janice more seriously about her faith.

Until one day on the drive home from work. In the D.C. area, because of the high volume of traffic, they have special lanes called High Occupancy Vehicle Lanes, or HOV lanes. They were like express lanes, but they were right next to the regular lanes without any barrier separating them. You had to have at least three people in your car to use the HOV lanes. This was supposed to promote carpooling, but all it did was make it very tempting for people to sneak into the HOV lanes. These lanes were so coveted that people would put blow-up dolls in their car to make it look like they had three people in there. The fines for illegally using the HOV lanes were steep; I couldn’t believe I had to pay $75! The policeman who pulled me over asked me why there weren’t three people in my car, and I told him my blow-up dolls had sprung a leak. I guess he didn’t find that too funny.

Anyway, I was on the way home one night – in the regular lanes – when I saw a car with one person in it come flying up the HOV lane. And I thought to myself, “Who would have the nerve to use the HOV lane illegally?” This was after my ticket, by the way. And I couldn’t believe it when I saw the driver of the car was Janice! She zoomed by me, smiling, probably singing along to some Bill Gaither song. And as she passed me and I caught a glimpse of her “Honk if you love Jesus” bumper sticker, I was infuriated! Here’s a lady who claimed to be a Christian, who used God’s name in sentences more than surfers use “dude,” and she was blatantly breaking the law! Christians weren’t supposed to break the law. They were supposed to use the regular lanes and always say “thank you” and return the $20 bill that fell out of your pocket. After that I had no desire to talk to Janice about God.

You know, that’s the number one complaint I hear about Christians. We’re hypocrites. I had someone once tell me, “The greatest single cause of atheism in the world today is Christians who acknowledge Jesus with their lips, then walk out the door and deny him with their lifestyle. That’s what an unbelieving world simply finds unbelievable.” That’s what I found unbelievable about Janice’s actions. Now, granted, in hindsight I was probably too judgmental of Janice. We all make mistakes, don’t we? And forgiveness is a crucial part of our belief. But Janice made me wonder, “Aren’t Christians called to a higher standard? Does our belief have any consequences for our actions?” That’s what James is helping us explore this morning. 

You know, we’re lucky to even have these words from James. If it were up to Martin Luther, James would have been cut out of the Bible. Luther’s complaint was that James contradicted Paul’s teachings. You see, Paul taught that there’s nothing we can do to earn our salvation. That is a gift God has given to us. There’s no quota to reach of helping old ladies across the street, because there’s nothing we can do to get us on God’s good side. Through Christ, we’re already there. As Paul says in Romans, “For we maintain that a person is justified by faith apart from observing the law.”

Luther said that the letter of James was “full of straw” because James is saying that faith without works is a dead faith. Luther charged that James drives us back to the law, that we have perform certain actions in order to be reckoned as righteous by God. And that teaching directly contradicts Paul’s idea that the righteous will live by their faith in God, and not their works.

So who’s right? They both are. Paul has a clear understanding of the Good News: Christ died on the cross so that we all are made righteous by God through our faith in Jesus. There’s no amount of good deeds we can do to earn that. It’s a gift from God. But James makes an important point about the danger of faith without works, and it’s one to which we’re all susceptible. I call it head faith. Head faith is an intellectual assent to a certain set of doctrines and Christian teachings without any corresponding change in one’s actions. Head faith is simply a cerebral belief, and that leads us to presume that simply knowing the right truth or holding the right position is enough to make us righteous.

James calls head faith a dead faith. He says faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead. You probably know people who can do a good job of faking a live faith. I was waiting to get my hair cut one day and struck up a conversation with another person waiting. When people find out I’m a pastor they usually react in one of two ways. They either suddenly find the tops of their shoes incredibly interesting, or they do their Clark-Kent-in-a-phone-booth routine and turn into…Super Religious Person! “Let me tell you how faithful I am!” This lady responded that way. She was flipping through a travel magazine and she turned to me and said, “You know, God spoke to me and told me my fiancé and I should go to Hawaii for our honeymoon.” And I thought, “Really? What if God told you to go to Pittsburgh?”

I know what she was trying to do; she was trying to show me how faithful she was. But I wanted to say to her, “My vote on your salvation doesn’t count, but do you want to impress me? Go to church every Sunday. Say ‘hello’ to the grocery store clerk and tell her to ‘have a nice day’ when you leave. You want to impress me? Teach your children to respect people who are different from them. Go out of your way to do something nice for someone. Give up something you want so someone else can have something they need. Don’t tell me how faithful you are; show me.” I couldn’t help thinking of the time when Jesus said, “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven.”

Does merely talking about faith indicate that a person has it? James asks his imaginary adversary to “show me your faith without deeds,” but that’s the point! You can’t show a faith without deeds, because there’s nothing to show. Head faith without hands and feet action is not suffering, is not weak, it’s dead.

But we have already been shown that God can make the dead live. Through Christ, we know that we have life and have it abundantly. We know that God loves us and believes in us. Look at our lives; are we not blessed? When we look at the enormous faith God has in us, how can we keep from acting? To acknowledge that we believe that Jesus is the Christ and our Lord and Savior is more than just a decision made above the neck; it’s a decision that comes from the heart. And if it comes from the heart, we are no longer the same person. We have been changed. The proof of the reality of a person’s faith is a changed life that works to change the lives of others.

The ironic thing is that a lot of times, this process works backwards. Instead of coming to faith and then taking action, it is our taking action that leads us to deeper faith. I was on a mission trip to North Carolina a few years ago, working on a house that had been flooded by a recent hurricane. A few youth and I were assigned to clean out the pool, which had been filled to the top with floodwaters and creepy-crawlies and sticks that looked liked snakes and made ministers scream like little girls. The youth and I emptied the pool, gave it a good scrubbing, and began to fill it again with fresh, clean, sparkling water. And one of my particularly ornery junior high youth came over and said, “I guess that’s what God does, huh?” What? “He takes the yucky stuff out of us and makes us clean.” A junior high kid. Action is often the way to deeper faith.

I know we are all at different places in our faith journey. I’m glad you all are here today, and I hope our time together in worship is meaningful for you. But there’s only so much that I can tell you. A scholar once wrote, “Faith is more caught than taught.” As we continue to wrestle with the intellectual aspects of faith, it is the experiential component, the living out of what we believe, that brings the most insight to us. Getting involved in the life of the church and putting your faith into action will have a greater impact on your faith than any sermon you hear or any book you read, except for the Bible. It will bring your faith alive.

So how can you tell a good Christian? By the fish emblem they have on their car? By how well the speak God language? St. Francis of Assisi once said, “Preach the Gospel everywhere. If necessary, use words.”

Easter Sermon – Expecting Easter

He is risen…Happy Easter everyone!

SCRIPTURE
1Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene went to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the entrance. 2So she came running to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one Jesus loved, and said, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we don’t know where they have put him!”

 3So Peter and the other disciple started for the tomb. 4Both were running, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. 5He bent over and looked in at the strips of linen lying there but did not go in. 6Then Simon Peter, who was behind him, arrived and went into the tomb. He saw the strips of linen lying there, 7as well as the burial cloth that had been around Jesus’ head. The cloth was folded up by itself, separate from the linen. 8Finally the other disciple, who had reached the tomb first, also went inside. He saw and believed. 9(They still did not understand from Scripture that Jesus had to rise from the dead.)

10Then the disciples went back to their homes, 11but Mary stood outside the tomb crying. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb 12and saw two angels in white, seated where Jesus’ body had been, one at the head and the other at the foot. 13They asked her, “Woman, why are you crying?” ”They have taken my Lord away,” she said, “and I don’t know where they have put him.” 14At this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not realize that it was Jesus.

 15“Woman,” he said, “why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?” Thinking he was the gardener, she said, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him.” 16Jesus said to her, “Mary.” She turned toward him and cried out in Aramaic, “Rabboni!” (which means Teacher). 17Jesus said, “Do not hold on to me, for I have not yet returned to the Father. Go instead to my brothers and tell them, ‘I am returning to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’ “ 18Mary Magdalene went to the disciples with the news: “I have seen the Lord!” And she told them that he had said these things to her.

SERMON 

Expecting Easter
John 20:1-18
April 8, 2007 – Easter Sunday

The word “expectation” is a pregnant word in the Christian faith, full of meaning and potential. Dictionary.com defines “expectation” as “the act or state of looking forward to or expecting.” That certainly describes what we experience during the season of Advent, which directly precedes Christmas Day. We move through Advent with the expectation of Christ’s birth.

Expectation also plays a role during the season of Lent. As we journey to the cross, we anticipate and expect the joy of the resurrection. Even as we endure the darkness of Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, we know that there is still reason to hope, and that keeps us expectant, even in the face of such brutality and violence.

But in this morning’s reading, we hear about a different kind of expectation. I don’t think we can completely grasp it, because we know the end of the story. We know the answer to the riddle with which Mary is confronted. But imagine what our expectations would be if we didn’t know that.

What would you do if you woke up one morning, and what you expected to be there wasn’t there? That’s happened to me. When I was in seminary in Indianapolis, Leigh and I lived close to a not-so-nice part of town. I never really paid much attention to that until one morning when I walked out to my car. I went to unlock it and saw that the lock had been popped out of the door. Uh-oh. I opened the door – no need to unlock it now! – and saw the dome light had been broken. Double uh-oh. Sure enough, the only thing in that old car worth more than a quarter, the car stereo, was missing. The gaping hole that was left wasn’t quite as exciting as the empty tomb. They even took the change from my ashtray. That’s not how I expected my morning to start. If you have ever had something stolen from you, you know the feeling of expecting one thing, but instead finding something very different.

That’s how Mary must have felt as she made her way to the tomb this morning. John tells us she went to the tomb, but I would have to think “trudged to the tomb” would be a better description. This was not a happy walk to make. Mary wasn’t expecting to find what she found. She was expecting death, plain and simple. She went out expecting that today would be exactly like yesterday. She went out expecting that Jesus’ body was going to be in the same place it was left. She wasn’t expecting Easter.

Are we? Are we expecting Easter? Of course we are, in a way. We may not know what day it falls on each year, but we know it’s going to happen. Happens every year. This is my 36th year of living, and it’s my 36th Easter. I think I’ve got it pretty much down pat by now; I imagine you have, as well. It’s almost old news, isn’t it? We’ve heard it so many times that we probably don’t even hear it anymore. We hear, “Early in the morning on the first day of the week…” and we start thinking about what’s for lunch. “And then she turned around and saw Jesus standing there…” I wonder if we’re having mashed potatoes?

Why listen? Don’t we know this story? Hasn’t this story been retold countless times in a zillion ways? TV news specials and popular books and magazine covers. Do I know the Bible? Of course I do! I’ve seen “Jesus Christ Superstar” and rented “The Passion of the Christ” – twice! I know this story. I know what to expect on Easter. “Stone rolled away. Empty tomb.” I wonder if we’ll have ham or turkey? “Strips of linen. Angels in white. Risen Jesus.” Yawn.

The problem is if we think we know this story, if we’ve experienced it more than a few times, we run the risk of thinking that tomorrow is going to be like yesterday. And we run the risk of leaving this place today the same person we were when we came in. We have the perspective of 2000 years of knowledge, history and tradition. Has that dulled our understanding of the magnitude of this day? Do we dare peer into the empty tomb once again and miss what has taken place?

This is not just another day. This day is fundamentally different than the other 364. And it changes every day that is to come after it. We are not the same people today that we were yesterday. We can’t say what the cynic once said: “I’ve seen the future and it’s like the present, only longer.” Because of what has happened this morning, life is no longer the same.

What has been done is simply this: Jesus has conquered death. It’s a basic statement, one we’ve heard many times before. But have you stopped and thought about what it means? Life is no longer the same because death is no longer the same.

When I was a kid I had a room in the basement of our house, so it got very dark down there. And when it was raining out and the wind was blowing, my little imagination would start running wild and I’d conjure up all kinds of creepy-crawlies that were waiting in there to bite my toes and suck out my brain. So I’d have someone check it out for me first. They’d go in and flip on the light, open the closet, look under the bed, and then say, “It’s safe. You can go in now. No creepy-crawlies.”

Death evokes that same kind of fear in us, but we can’t have someone go first and report back. “You know, I died last week, wasn’t all that bad.” Jeanne Oehring, who passed away on Tuesday, promised me she’d come back and update me if she could, but I haven’t heard from her yet. Once we enter that room, we’re not coming out again. Death is scary to us, and we have no way of knowing that everything will be all right.

That’s what Jesus has done for us today. He has gone before us into the darkest of dark places, looked around, and said, “It’s safe. You can go in now. I have gone before you.” Jesus’ victory over death empowers us to face all of life’s uncertainties, even the biggest uncertainty of all.

But here’s the paradox of faith: Jesus has removed the uncertainty of death, but I have no certainty about how he did it. I can’t explain it to you. If you’ve come today expecting that kind of answer, you’re going to go away disappointed. I can’t pull out an anatomy book and take you through the process of a body coming back to life. I don’t have a videotape to show you of him walking out of the tomb, or an eyewitness who saw it happen. There’s no explanation for what has happened today.

But I don’t think that’s such a bad thing. Faith ceases to be faith when it can be explained. When we’re simply at a loss for words to explain something, God has us right where he wants us, because it’s at that point we have to leave reason behind and enter into faith. How did Jesus conquer death? I don’t know. But I have faith that he did.

And that’s the danger of coming to the Easter morning thinking you know what’s going to happen. For our faith to be alive and kicking, there has to be room for mystery, room for God’s spirit to move around. If we could prove God’s love in a lab, it wouldn’t be the ultimate life-changing force that it is. There will always be something unexplainable about Easter.

What we know is that Jesus died on the cross so that we would know how much God loves us. What we know is that Jesus was resurrected, and through his resurrection, we have been given the gift of eternal life. Those things are to be expected. But what we don’t know is what that’s going to look like in our life from this day forward.

You see, each year we come to Easter in need of resurrection. Something in us has died this past year – a dream of a better job, a hope for restored health, the strength to face a challenge in front of us, the desire for a restored relationship, the longing for a deeper faith. For whatever reason, something in our lives has died. Have we come here today expecting those things to stay dead? Or are we expecting God to do something new? A resurrected Savior is one that can bring dead things back to life. And every Easter there’s something within us that needs to be resurrected.

After today, we simply cannot go back to life as usual. We can no longer give in to the usual disappointments, the usual discouragement, the usual defeatism. If we truly believe that Christ has risen from the dead, then our lives should show evidence of that belief. Our Savior is alive! If someone were to ask you how you know that’s true, what evidence would you offer? What would you point to in your life that shows the resurrection is real?

You know, I thought I knew what to expect today. Same old stories in the newspaper about death and destruction. Same old fears and doubts floating around in my head. I thought today was going to be the same as yesterday. I expected lots of people and a bunch of lilies. But then I heard this story, old but somehow new, about an empty tomb and a risen Christ, and I realized: nothing will ever be the same. I don’t know how, but God is going to do something new. Something that I thought was dead is going to be resurrected. I know that now. When I came here today, I was expecting it would be Easter, but I wasn’t expecting that. Are you?

1 – Do you have any Easter traditions in your family?

2 -What is your favorite thing about Easter day?

3 – What are you expecting God to do in your life this coming year?

He is risen, indeed!

Jesus’ Last Seven Words – Good Friday meditations

“Father forgive them, for they don’t know what they are doing.” – Luke 23:33-34

Did they really not know what they were doing? Judas knew he betrayed his friend and master. Pilate knew he had condemned an innocent man to death. The Jewish council knew they had secured a false verdict by bribing witnesses. They weren’t ignorant of the facts of their crimes.

But they were ignorant of its enormity. They didn’t realize the were crucifying the son of God. So Jesus asks God to forgive them. But is the forgiveness only for those who played a direct role in Jesus’ crucifixion? Or is it also for each of us, who DO know what we’re doing when we try to make a name for ourselves, or put our selfish interests first, or ignore the needs of those around us. Forgiveness is needed even more when we DO know what we’re doing.

Forgiveness doesn’t mean an absence of judgment or justice. Jesus never suggested they were right to do what they were doing. He didn’t forgive and call the wrong right. Instead he forgave the wrong in order to make things right with the wrongdoer. He forgave so that the world would not be condemned, but saved through him.

Father, forgive us when we don’t know what we’re doing, and please be even more merciful when we do.

“I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise.” – Luke 23:39-43

Why did this thief deserve such a reward? He was a hardened criminal who obviously had not lived a righteous life. There’s no telling what atrocities he had committed against others. For his whole life, he looked upon others as prey, potential victims for his illegal pursuits.

But it’s hard to pick someone’s pocket when your hands are nailed to a cross. In his last breaths, the thief learned a simple but profound truth: paradise is not achievable; it is only receivable. No matter how hard we work to earn it, legally or illegally, we’ll never reach the paradise we seek. We can only get there through the invitation of Jesus Christ.

The thief is rewarded for his ability to see what few others saw. He is convinced that Jesus is a king, because he asks to be remembered when Jesus comes into his kingdom. When we look at the cross, do we see a dying man, a bloodied victim…or do we see a king, who welcomes us into his paradise?

Almighty God, help us see that the paradise we seek can be found in the open arms of your Son.

“Dear woman, here is your son…Here is your mother.” – John 19:25-27

If there were ever a moment we would expect a man to think only of himself, it is at the hour of his death. Yet even then, Jesus is more concerned about others. The vision of Mary reminds him of what we often forget. We know Mary as a saint, but we forget that she was also a mother: scraped knees, colic, waiting for her son to come home at night. And now, she knows the worst pain of all: watching her son die.

Are we surprised that Jesus is looking out for her? As the eldest son in the house, it was his job to provide for her, and he remains faithful. He saw to it that his mother had a home to which she could go, even as he prepared to go to his.

As the other person in this story, John learns that when you come to the cross, be prepared for a new responsibility. Jesus doesn’t beckon us to the cross to watch him die; he beckons us there to give us our call. And the closer we stand to the cross, the better able we are to hear that call. We come to the cross to die to our own plans and ambitions and accept the yoke given by the One who hung there in our place.

Holy God, may we be as mothers and sons to each other, living out Jesus’ call from the cross to take care of each other as a family bonded together by Your love.

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” – Mark 15:33-36

This cry of anguish is gut wrenching. Why were these words included in the gospels? Why would we want to know that Jesus felt forsaken by God in this moment? And did God really turn his back on Jesus during this time?

When he went to the cross, Jesus took all of our sins with him. But that doesn’t mean it was just your and my sins. It was the sins of all humanity. In was not just sins, but SIN itself. Christ had to feel the full effects of God’s judgment for our sins. His soul had to share in the punishment of our sins. At that moment, he became guilty of the worst things you and I could do: murder, molestation, greed, and selfishness.

Do you understand now what Jesus is doing? Because God is a just God, He could either inflict punishment for our sins, or he could assume it. He endures infinite suffering in these three hours. The Father turns away from Jesus so that He never has to turn away from us. We can’t fully understand what happened between God and Jesus in these hours. We can only accept the level of pain and suffering, and that it was done for us. And in the midst of this devastating time, Jesus still says, “MY God.” This was a cry of distress, but not distrust.

Merciful God, thank you for conquering death. Help us to cry out “my God” even when we feel forsaken. Remind us that you never leave our side, even in the darkest of times.

“I am thirsty.” – John 19:28

Part of the power of what Jesus is doing on the cross for us is that he is doing it as a fully human being. This is not a god going through some divine charade to make us think he’s suffering. This is Jesus of Nazareth, a flesh-and-blood human, beaten and bloody and nailed to a cross. His thirst is another sign of the physical anguish he is suffering.

But his thirst is for more than just H2O. Jesus spoke often of water in the gospels. In John’s gospel, he says, “If anyone thirst, let him come and drink.” Jesus promised us the living waters of baptism to quench the thirst of our souls for meaning and purpose. What a strange irony that the very person who suggested he is the source of living water is now famished in body and soul.

Jesus’ cry is the cry of all who are thirty, not just for water, but for justice and for a place at God’s table. Jesus drank the cup of death, which doesn’t quench thirst but heightens it. He did this so that everyone might drink from the cup of life, which we do each time we take communion. Through his death, the thirst of our souls are quenched.

Giving God, who poured out his blood so that we might never be thirsty, help us to see the needs of others and meet them, as Christ has done for us.

“It is finished.” – John 19:29-30

Indeed, it is finished. Pilate thought that with the death of Jesus, this so-called king’s reign would be over and the rebellion would be squelched. It is finished.

The disciples thought that Rome had won and finally silenced their master. A dead Messiah is no Messiah at all. It is finished.

But Jesus knew what was really finished. Scripture has been fulfilled. Sin and death have been defeated. Redemption has been completed. Humanity has been reconciled to God once and for all time. His work, which he was sent to do, has been completed. It is finished.

Notice that he did not say, “I am finished.” God still has more in store for Jesus in a few days. But on this day, by his death on the cross, Jesus has finished more than just his earthly life. He has finished the mission for which he was sent. When we face our own death, will we be able to look at what God has called us to do here on this earth, and utter the same words? Our lives are a work in progress. May God grant us the grace and the courage to finish them.

God of all life, use Your power and majesty to bring to completion the work you have called us to do, just as you followed Jesus to the cross…and beyond.

“Father, into Your hands I commend my spirit.” – Luke 23:44-46

The first recorded words of Jesus in the gospels were when he was found in the temple and says to his parents, “Don’t you know that I had to be about my father’s business?” Now that business is finished, and he can say, “into Your hands I commend my spirit.”

These are the last words of Jesus. There were no curses from his mouth. No loathing contempt, no self-righteous condescension, no bitter resignation. Instead, he ends his life with a prayer of faith, the same prayer that Jewish mothers taught their children to say at bedtime every night.

It’s a fitting end to an extraordinary life. He was betrayed into the hands of sinners, but he was always in control of his life, and it is only at this moment, when everything is accomplished, that he chooses to give his life back to his Father. That allows God to restore Christ’s spirit in the days to come.

To whom does our life belong? We don’t have to wait until our dying breath to commend our spirit to God. We can choose, this very day, in the shadow of the cross, to give our life to God for His use. God wants to restore us, as well. Will we let Christ’s death on the cross go unnoticed in our life, or will we choose to put our life in God’s hands?

Loving God, thank you for opening your arms to receive us. We commend ourselves to you this day, as we accept the gift of life given by your son, Jesus Christ.

Fulfilling Your Obligations

Therefore, brothers and sisters, we have an obligation—but it is not to the sinful nature, to live according to it. For if you live according to the sinful nature, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the misdeeds of the body, you will live, because those who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. — Romans 8:12-14

What obligations do you have in our life? If you were to list them, they would probably be pretty standard: we’re obligated to pay our taxes, show up to work on time, stop when the light turns red, and open the door so the little old lady can go in first. We may not always carry out these obligations, but we at least know we should.

We don’t often think of our faith having obligations. If we are believers, we know we have received the gift of forgiveness through Jesus Christ, and although that gift is free, we know it carries with it a call to at least try to actually live like the Bible says we should. But we also are quick to make exceptions to that rule. I promise to live a Christ-like life…except on New Year’s Eve and most Friday nights and when my spouse isn’t looking.

But Paul names this call an obligation, which Dictionary.com defines as “a binding promise.” That phrase carries with it a bit more weight than simply a “suggestion” or “recommended behaviors.” It conveys a sense of duty and responsibility, and implies consequences if not carried out, much like foregoing the obligation of stopping at red light can have consequences.

The obligation Paul lifts up is to “put to death the misdeeds of the body,” or else suffer the penalty of living according to the sinful nature. Is Paul implying that once we make our confession of faith we should no longer sin? Of course not! Through Christ, we are not freed from sinning, but from the penalty of sin. That doesn’t, however, give us carte blanche to live how we want. We have made a binding promise to God, and Paul implies a life of faith should give evidence of progress in becoming less like the world and more like Christ.

This is a marathon, not a sprint, and we are called to make small steps every day. If we’re not sure where to put our foot next, we have a guide to help us: the Holy Spirit. As we open ourselves to be led by the Spirit, we will find that we are moving away from the seductive voice of sin and moving toward the familiar tone of our Father’s voice, calling us home like the once-heartbroken father calling to the prodigal son. With the Spirit’s help, we can honor the promise that binds us to God as we put to death the sin that once controlled us.

Loving God, even though I have fallen short of Your glory, you still reach out to me and adopt me as Your child. Give me the strength to resist the temptation of sin and turn toward the love You have shown me through Jesus. Help me be open to the leading of Your spirit, so that I may witness to the glory of your promise through the way I live my life. Amen.

Standing with Each Other

One of the blessings of being a pastor is that, by virtue of my vocation, I am invited into some of the most sacred moments in a person’s life. I’ve had the privilege of being with people as they said their vows of marriage, as they’ve said goodbyes to their loved ones, and as they’ve dealt with life-changing news. It is not an easy part of my job, but it is often the most God-filled.

These times can also be personally challenging for me. Because of the love I feel for each of my congregation members, I take Paul’s words to heart: “If one part of the body suffers, every part suffers with it.” In the past few months this church has had an unusual amount of suffering within its membership, and because of that, I have felt that suffering.

But I am most thankful that I do not have to bear that alone. As Paul says, “EVERY part suffers with it.” Part of our mission statement says that we are called to “welcome people into a loving and caring church family,” and this congregation lives that out each and every day. I know that if someone is in need, I am only a small part of the team that is working to meet that need. This web of support extends beyond Tim and the Elders and the Crisis Committee (although each of those plays a tremendous role in offering care) to the entire congregation.

In the Bible there are several examples of leaders commissioning the flock to do the work of God. Moses gives authority to a group of people to help him watch over the Israelites in the wilderness. Jesus sends out the 12 disciples to do his work in the region. And in his last words in Matthew, Jesus gives the Great Commission, to “make disciples of all nations.” The work of God was not for the leaders alone; it was for everyone to do.

I’m thankful to God that this church takes that seriously. We each were given hands and feet to use for going to others, for holding their hands, for making them meals. Pastoral care isn’t just for the pastors to do; it’s a task for all believers, to help bear each other’s burdens and lighten each other’s loads.

I want to share with you a story passed on to me recently that highlights this. Ashley, a mother living in a small town wanted to have her baby – his name was James – baptized in her home church. The problem was, because of the size of the town, everyone knew her situation: 18 years old, unwed, the father not around, no family to speak of except for her grandmother, Martha. Would the church still accept her?

Martha talked to the pastor about it after church one day. The pastor said he was glad to do the baptism, but was concerned of the effect it would have on Ashley. You see, as part of the baptism service, the pastor asks the entire extended family of the baby to stand as a show of support. Would it be embarrassing to Ashley if she only had one person standing during the service? Martha said having little James baptized was most important, so the pastor agreed.

On the day of the service, as Ashley held her baby and stood with the pastor, the pastor asked, “Who has come today to stand with this child?” Martha slowly stood up. As the pastor’s eyes returned to the prayer book to continue the service, movement in the congregation caught his eye. An Elder stood up. And then a Deacon. And then a Sunday School teacher. And the nursery attendant. And a young couple in the church. Finally, the whole church was standing in support of Ashley and her baby. James had inherited a new extended family that would love him and support him and Ashley knew she was not alone as she faced the future.

We are blessed with such a wonderful extended family in our church. We have a lot of people who are in need of our love and support. May we continue to stand with them, reminding them that they are not alone as they face the future.

This Week – The Passion Story

Hi friends! In worship on Sunday, instead of giving a sermon, I simply read the Passion Story as it was first told – in the Bible. As we begin the most important week in the Christian year, what can any preacher say that would be more powerful than the words of the Bible? How can anyone tell the story – in words, in print, or on film – better than the Bible tells it? I learned in seminary that sometimes preachers need to get out of the way and let God’s word do the talking. So instead of preaching, I encouraged the congregation to hear God’s word as we listened to the story of Jesus’ last week on earth.

 My prayer is that, as you read these words, you will walk with him on this journey,
Through Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, right up until Easter morning. But hold on, we’re not there yet. We have a lot of work to do.

We know that on Palm Sunday, Jesus had his triumphant entry into Jerusalem. After clearing the Temple of the moneychangers and merchants on Monday, Jesus spent most of the week there, teaching and preaching to all those who would listen. He also spent much of that time putting up with challenges to his authority by the chief priests and the scribes. In addition, he took this opportunity to warn his disciples about what was to come, and how they could be ready for his return. On Thursday, the wheels are set in motion for the Passion story, starting with Judas. You can read Matthew’s account of this story here.

As you contemplate all that will happen to Jesus this week, think about these questions:

1 – What disturbs you the most about the story of Holy Week?

2 – What gives you the most hope about the story of Holy Week?

3 – If you could ask Jesus one question about what happened to him this week, what would it be?