Tuesday, September 21, 2021
Wednesday, May 12, 2021
April 4, 2021, Easter Sunday. Rebooting Life - Resurrection!
It is really, really good to see you this morning!
What a difference it is from last Easter! Last year, we were several weeks into the pandemic, and the closing of the church to in-person worship. Only 4 or 5 of us were here, as we were livestream only at that time for worship, and it was such a strange experience. It was as though I had stumbled onto the set of one of the Left Behind movies.
This is our first time in almost 13 months to be back to two Sunday morning worship services. It might take me some time to adjust back to this schedule. It’s been over a year since we’ve had two worship services and I’m a bit out of practice. I asked those in the early service to remind me not to go home at the conclusion of that service, as I was used to leaving after one service. To make sure I had the energy to get through the morning, I had five pounds of marshmallow Peeps for breakfast, and it takes a lot of Peeps to make five pounds! Then, as I drove to church, I followed a Krispy Kreme donut truck. At that point, I had to say, get behind me Satan!
We’ve come a long, long way in a year, and though we have a way yet to go, we have certainly come a long way. We all feel so grateful to be here on this beautiful day, and we feel the sense of life here this morning. Last year we were early in the pandemic, and we were overwhelmed with uncertainty and some measure of fear. I will always remember what it was like to look out at all the empty chairs and to speak to video devices instead of people. I will also remember what an encouragement it was to see the pictures of the congregation fastened to the chair. That was very, very encouraging to me.
In recent weeks, I have been preaching a series of messages titled Rebooting Life. Since the pandemic began just over a year ago, I have presented one series after another about the ways our faith in God and the presence of God can carry us through whatever challenges come our way. And we have indeed faced challenges in the last year. It has been an incredible year of events that have come, one after another, and overwhelmed our world.
Today, on Easter Sunday, the title of my message is Resurrection! That title carries not only the meaning we associate with Easter; it is also one that carries a great deal of meaning when we consider all we have been through over the course of the past year. Life is being resurrected, and we are beginning to see signs of hope that we are turning a corner in relation to the pandemic. We hope that we are returning to normal, although there were plenty of things that were not at all normal about the pre-pandemic world, and we hope we can create a new, and better, normal.
And so, we begin to turn the corner, daring to hope that life is indeed returning to normal (although we are still keeping a distance, and this is the first time in my entire ministry that I’ve worried about having too many people in church) it is fitting that are here on this Easter Sunday, to talk about Resurrection!
All four gospels tell the story of the resurrection, and this morning we will use Luke’s telling for our text. I love all the resurrection stories, but Luke’s is my favorite. I always gravitate to his telling of the resurrection so follow along with me, as I read Luke 24:1-12 –
1 On the first day of the week, very early in the morning, the women took the spices they had prepared and went to the tomb.
2 They found the stone rolled away from the tomb,
3 but when they entered, they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus.
4 While they were wondering about this, suddenly two men in clothes that gleamed like lightning stood beside them.
5 In their fright the women bowed down with their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead?
6 He is not here; he has risen! Remember how he told you, while he was still with you in Galilee:
7 ‘The Son of Man must be delivered over to the hands of sinners, be crucified and on the third day be raised again.’”
8 Then they remembered his words.
9 When they came back from the tomb, they told all these things to the Eleven and to all the others.
10 It was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the others with them who told this to the apostles.
11 But they did not believe the women, because their words seemed to them like nonsense.
12 Peter, however, got up and ran to the tomb. Bending over, he saw the strips of linen lying by themselves, and he went away, wondering to himself what had happened.
In framing my message this morning, there are several words in that passage I want to focus on this morning. The first of them is wondering. Luke uses the word wondering twice in this passage, first in verse 4, when the two Marys and Joanna, arriving at the empty tomb, were wondering what had happened to the body of Jesus, and again in verse 12, when Peter went away from the empty tomb, wondering to himself what had happened.
Wondering is an interesting word, isn’t it? We all wonder about many things. I do a lot of wondering. There are many things I don’t understand, and I wonder about them. A lot. Sometimes I wonder about the big questions of life, and sometimes the small questions. I don’t understand, for instance, and I wonder, why the paper towels in the office work room here at the church are on the hanger backwards. That’s actually an important question to me. That’s right up there with the big questions of the universe. It just seems so counter-intuitive to me. Who does that, and more importantly, why? It’s so complicated to have to reach behind the roll of paper towels to find where they begin. I don’t understand it; it’s just not efficient. Sometimes, we need relief from the big questions of life, so that’s one about which I wonder.
There are plenty of big questions about which to wonder, and many of them relate to faith. Sometimes, people say that if we do not have all the answers about faith then something is deficient in our faith, and that is simply not true. Actually, we don’t need to have all the answers. In fact, and this might sound odd, faith is like science. In this day and age when so many say that faith and science are at odds (and I do not believe that to be true), I think it is worth pointing out that like science, when we arrive at an answer about faith, we might have ten more questions that come along with the answer, or the new understanding. Sometimes, we have a flash of insight, or a moment of understanding that brings us an answer, and that new understanding opens the door to more questions, so we end up with even more questions than we have answers. In those moments, it is easy to wonder if we will ever have all the answers we seek. The easy answer to that questions is, no, we will not; at least not in this life. People ask me many questions, and I can offer an answer to some of them, but not all. Quite often, I feel as though I have more questions than I do answers. And that’s okay. It’s okay that we don’t have answers to every question. Skeptics often pounce upon our inability to provide an answer to every question, as though our lack of an answer proves that their critiques are on target. They might say, for instance, if you cannot provide an answer to the question of why suffering exists, then there must be something wrong not only with your faith, but with faith in general. My opinion is, who says so? Why is it necessary for us to have the answer to every question? If we waited until we had all the answers before we embraced faith, it would be like waiting until we felt we could afford to get married before we took that step. How many people thought about that before getting married? Did you ask, can we afford to get married, or can we afford to have kids? We didn’t have to have every question answered before taking those steps. We embraced those opportunities, even though we didn’t have every question answered. There is always an element of mystery to faith. Always, and don’t ever think of that as a negative.
The earliest witnesses to the empty tomb did not understand. They wondered, as Luke says. When the women reported the news of the empty tomb to the disciples, the disciples did not believe them. In fact, Luke says the disciples not only refused to believe them, but their words seemed to them like nonsense (verse 11). It’s one thing to have a sense of doubt or disbelief, but to write off their report as nonsense, that is a very strong reaction. Nonsense is a word usually used by skeptics, not by the followers of Jesus, but that was their reaction.
It is easy to forget that the disciples were, initially, unable to process and understand the empty tomb. It did not fit with the way they believed life worked. But how difficult is it for the God who created this vast, unending universe to bring resurrection? That God created life certainly means that restoring life through resurrection is not outside the realm of possibility. It would actually be quite simple for God to do so. The rarity of an event does not increase the improbability or impossibility of an event. Let me repeat that – the rarity of an event does not increase the improbability or impossibility of an event.
I have less answers than I had ten, or twenty, or thirty years ago. And the interesting thing is, I don’t need as many answers as I needed in the past. While I have less answers, I believe I have the answers I need, and chief among those answers are – God exists, God is love, and Jesus came to demonstrate that love. I don’t know how to interpret every verse of the Bible and I don’t always have a good answer – or any answer – to many of the questions people ask me about the Scriptures and faith, but I really don’t worry about it. I believe I know what I need to know. I keep wondering and I keep seeking answers, but my wondering does not at all get in the way of my faith. If I only knew those three answers, I believe that would be sufficient.
The second word is fear. Ah, there’s that word, the word none of us likes, but the word that captures all of us. This is why, after all, the pandemic has been so difficult, because it has been so full of uncertainty. We have struggled with the question of how long it will last, with the question of what might happen to our family and friends. We have struggled with the question of what will happen to our finances, and many more questions. We’ve been uncertain, and that uncertainty has bred much fear. Who has not been awake at night, wondering about questions of our physical health, our financial health, and so many others? Fear is a powerful and destructive force, and fear has been heavily upon us.
All four gospel writers note the presence of fear in the first Easter morning. Why fear? Why was fear such a strong component of the first Easter? It’s an interesting question, and one to which I don’t know that I have an accurate answer. I do think that part of the reason they were fearful is because they had yet to understand that Jesus had risen. Although Jesus told his disciples and followers that he would rise from the tomb (in Mark 8:31, for example), they had no grasp on that as a reality. Even though they had seen Jesus raise others from the dead – the daughter of Jairus (Mark 5:21-42), the widow’s son (Luke 7:11-16), and Lazarus (John 11:1-44) – it still seemed an impossibility. They were left to wonder, then, if the body of Jesus was stolen, which would make them fearful, wondering what the purpose of such a theft would mean. Or, they simply had no idea what might have happened, and where there is uncertainty, there is also fear. For the disciples, much of the fear, I think, rested on the question of what would happen to them. As Jesus was crucified, they might have wondered, what’s going to happen to us? Are we next? If the one who worked miracles, the one who raised others from the dead had been arrested, scourged, and nailed to a cross, what was going to happen to his followers? Peter, who did follow Jesus after his arrest, quickly denied him when he was recognized as one of Jesus’ followers (Luke 22:54-62). It was because of fear, and lest we be too hard on Peter, fear can also cause us to act in ways we would not want to act.
And while we are grateful to be here this morning, in worship, let us remember we can come here without fear. There are places in this world where followers of Jesus must take into account the risk to their lives because of their faith. They must think about, and consider, the very real possibility of an attack on their church. They have to wonder if someone has placed a bomb in their church. They have to wonder if they will be arrested, simply because they believe. There are places in this world where these fears are very real possibilities.
There was also, possibly, the fear that Jesus was a buffer, if that’s the correct word. What I mean by a buffer is this – Jesus was the one who dealt with the skepticism and hostility of the religious leaders, he was the one who fed the hungry, and he was the one who healed the sick. Now, his work would be the responsibility of his followers. The time had come for them to step up, and step away from a preoccupation with comfort or personal gain and do the hard, heart-breaking work of changing the world. This did, no doubt, bring a measure of fear to their lives, because the responsibility was now theirs to become the hands and feet of Jesus in his physical absence, and that prospect must have been troubling to them, as it is to us. How do meet all the needs in our community? How do we comfort all the people who need to be comforted? How do we feed all the hungry people? It is overwhelming at times to think about all the need.
The third word is life. The word life doesn’t actually appear in this passage, although it does say why do you look for the living among the dead? The entire passage is about life.
One of the difficulties of this year, to me, has been the funerals, which have served as a reminder that the pandemic has not only changed so much of life, but has changed how we deal with death as well. I can remember, for instance, the first funeral I officiated, shortly after the pandemic began. It was so different from any other funeral I had ever officiated. Ten people were in attendance, which included myself. I had been asked to officiate the service because one of the children of the deceased, who is also a minister, lives on the west coast and was unable to travel to be here. How tragic it was for the family not to be together in such a moment. And how many people could not be with a loved one when their loved one left this life and entered into eternity, because the pandemic had closed the hospitals to visitors, even to family members. Last May, my stepfather passed away. My mom found him that morning, in medical distress and called the ambulance. She was not able to go with him or even to enter the hospital. Some hours later, wondering what was happening, she received a call from the hospital to tell her, he’s gone. What a jolt that was. And how many families experienced similar circumstances? Such an experience is one of many during the pandemic that make us feel vulnerable. We expressed that vulnerability in a joke that was often made over the months. When we sneezed or sniffled, we wondered if it was only a cold or if we were going to end up in the hospital ICU.
Yet, in spite of everything, life triumphs. That is the message of the resurrection. We see that life is getting better, in terms of the pandemic, and for this we are very grateful. But let us also remember that it is not getting better in many countries, so we must pray for the rest of the world, and advocate for the distribution of resources that can help people who are suffering in other parts of the world.
One of the statements I often make at a committal service, as we stand in the cemetery, especially in the winter, is to note that life will soon burst forth. We don’t think of cemeteries as places of life, but at this time of year, when we drive or walk through a cemetery, we see life bursting forth. The grass, dormant and brown for months, is green and growing. The trees, which remained bare throughout the winter, are filling with leaves. Flowers are popping up everywhere. Life is returning, because life always triumphs! Life cannot be stopped, even when death comes! This is the message of Easter, and the message of the resurrection. Even though life seems to conclude, it does not. Life does two things – it pauses momentarily, and then it transforms. What Easter tells us is that we have a moment of transition, where the final breath in this life becomes the first breath in eternity, and the closing of eyes in this life becomes the opening of eyes in eternity. It is the moment, as the book of Revelation says, he will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death, or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away (Revelation 21:4).
Today, on Easter, I am greatly comforted and reassured by the promise of eternity. We know that resurrection has come to those we so greatly miss. We know they are not gone from us forever. We know we will one day see them again. We know that because of the resurrection of Jesus death has been defeated and broken and because it has, those who have gone on before have been resurrected and we too, one day, will receive resurrection!
Life cannot be stopped! That is a wonderful message of hope! That is a necessary message of hope! That is a sustaining message of hope! Yes, we wonder. We wonder about many questions. But remember, we have the answers that are sufficient. Yes, there is much that we fear, but we are comforted by the power of God’s presence in our lives. And, most of all, life continues. Life cannot be stopped, and that is the message – the beautiful message – of Easter.
Tuesday, March 23, 2021
March 21, 2021 Rebooting Life: The Ultimate Reboot
You can watch video of this service at the following links -
Vimeo -
https://vimeo.com/527081080?fbclid=IwAR0bTTrkPUMLRMnqIe540DYlDQsnLU9NNIFe57WnN4SjKs6Q6o8TwkSWXuU
Facebook -
https://www.facebook.com/david.p.charlton.9/videos/10164984982330298
In my years of ministry, I’ve had people confide in me about many topics. There are three topics, in particular, that people have shared that are unique in the way people broach the topic. Almost without exception, when it’s one of those topics I can guarantee that the conversation begins in this way – I’m going to tell you something that I’ve never told anyone before…. Every time I hear that line, I know it is one of three topics. Two of those topics are very serious and one is, well, it’s kind of out there in comparison to the other two (and I had my first experience of that nature last year). And the reason why people have not told anyone about their experience is because they fear other people will, in their words, think I am crazy, or think there’s something wrong with me. One of the three is this – I’ve never told anyone this before…but I’ve had a near-death experience.
I have long been fascinated with near-death experiences (NDEs) and with the question of why people are hesitant to tell others that they have had a near-death experience. They certainly aren’t crazy, and neither is there anything wrong with them because of their experience. My first awareness of near-death experiences took place when I was in high school, when I discovered the book Life After Lifeon our dining room table. Life After Lifewas published in 1975 by psychiatrist Raymond Moody. Moody wrote his book after interviewing 150 people who had near death experiences. The book brought into the public consciousness the common experiences of those who have an NDE, such as an overwhelming feeling of peace and well-being, including freedom from pain; the impression of being located outside one's physical body; floating or drifting through darkness, sometimes described as a tunnel; becoming aware of a golden light; encountering and perhaps communicating with a "being of light;" having a rapid succession of visual images of one's past; and experiencing another world of much beauty. Even though the scientific/materialist crowd panned the book, it really struck a chord with the general public. The book sold over 13 million copies and was an international best-seller. My second experience was when my grandfather – my dad’s step-father – had a near-fatal heart attack. I don’t know what he experienced but I am fairly certain he had an NDE. I never talked to him about his experience, but he was anxious to talk to my older brother about it, and after leaving the hospital and getting his strength back, he was baptized. It was an experience that brought about a significant change in his life.
Well, who doesn’t want to peer beyond the curtain that separates life and death and get a glimpse of what is beyond? It is the ultimate mystery, and while our faith teaches us that life extends beyond death, we don’t have a lot of details about what that life is like. We know it’s great, but we’d like to know more, wouldn’t we? Some have seen beyond the curtain, and one who did was Lazarus, who is resurrected in today’s Scripture passage. As we continue the series of messages titled Rebooting Life, today’s message is The Ultimate Reboot, and the Scripture text comes from the story of Lazarus, in John chapter 11.
In recent weeks, we’ve looked at stories in which others were resurrected by Jesus. Two weeks ago, we studied the story of Jesus raising the son of a widow, in Luke chapter 7. The week before that, we studied a story in Mark chapter 5, which tells of Jesus resurrecting the daughter of Jairus, the synagogue official. But the raising of Lazarus is the most dramatic of those stories, and one of the most dramatic stories in all of Scripture. Follow along as I read a portion of that story, from John 11:33-44 –
33 When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled.
34 “Where have you laid him?” he asked. “Come and see, Lord,” they replied.
35 Jesus wept.
36 Then the Jews said, “See how he loved him!”
37 But some of them said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?”
38 Jesus, once more deeply moved, came to the tomb. It was a cave with a stone laid across the entrance.
39 “Take away the stone,” he said. “But, Lord,” said Martha, the sister of the dead man, “by this time there is a bad odor, for he has been there four days.”
40 Then Jesus said, “Did I not tell you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?”
41 So they took away the stone. Then Jesus looked up and said, “Father, I thank you that you have heard me.
42 I knew that you always hear me, but I said this for the benefit of the people standing here, that they may believe that you sent me.”
43 When he had said this, Jesus called in a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!”
44 The dead man came out, his hands and feet wrapped with strips of linen, and a cloth around his face. Jesus said to them, “Take off the grave clothes and let him go.”
While John is not as economical in his word usage as Mark, in this instance he does leave out a lot of details. In fact, for all the drama inherent in the raising of Lazarus, John writes in a most matter-of-fact manner, ending the climax of the story with a simple phrase of Jesus, as he told those who rolled away the stone to take off the grave clothes and let him go. From there, almost nothing else is mentioned about Lazarus and his life after he was resurrected. John does mention, in chapter 12, verse 2, that Lazarus was present at a dinner given in honor of Jesus. In that verse, John casually mentions that Lazarus was among thosewho were at the dinner. I imagine Lazarus attracted quite a bit of attention from the others who were at the dinner. Wouldn’t it be amazing to have been at that dinner and have had the opportunity to talk with Lazarus about what he had experienced? Lazarus did not have a near-death experience. That is, he wasn’t “near death.” He had not started the dying process, which was then interrupted. That is a resuscitation. Lazarus had been dead for four days. Medical science can resuscitate people who have begun the dying process, but you cannot bring someone back who has completed the process and is fully dead. Resuscitation is not possible after four days. Martha, the sister of Lazarus, made the point of those four days clear when she said, very bluntly, but Lord…by this time there is a bad odor, for he has been there four days(verse 39). This was not a resuscitation; Jesus resurrected Lazarus after four days in a tomb. Imagine the drama of that moment. As Jesus prayed,I said this for the benefit of the people standing here, that they may believe you sent me(verse 42). People had seen Jesus perform miracles, but here was the ultimate miracle. This was the ultimate miracle, the ultimate rebooting of life, and the ultimate in new beginnings.
As we turn now to this passage, let’s look for a moment at one of the most famous verses in this story – verse 35 – which happens to be the shortest verse in the Bible. Who has not, when asked to memorize Scripture, chosen this verse because of its brevity? Yes, it is brief, but in those two words we learn so much about Jesus. Talk about economy of language! Only two words, but those two words – Jesus wept– speak volumes about his love and his compassion. An immense amount of information about Jesus is in that very brief verse. It’s interesting to ask, why did Jesus weep? Jesus knew long before that moment that he would raise Lazarus from the dead, yet he still wept at his tomb. Those two words serve to teach us almost everything we need to learn about Jesus. From his tears, we learn of the love and compassion of Jesus. His tears flowed because his heart was moved by the grief of Mary and Martha, the sisters of Lazarus, and his heart was touched by the sadness of the friends of Lazarus. Jesus knew all the beauty that Lazarus had inherited in eternity, he knew of all the beauty ahead for Mary and Martha and others, and he knew all the beauty ahead for their friends. Jesus knew they would one day see each other again. But their grief weighed heavily upon Jesus. We know there is resurrection; we know it. But sometimes, the distance of time between the loss of a loved one and our reunion with them in eternity is a long in-between. A long in-between. Sometimes, it is long enough that we begin to forget what a person’s voice sounded like. Sometimes, it is long enough, if we were young enough, that we begin to forget what someone looked like. And that bothers us, but it is natural, and it happens to many people. Though Jesus knew all the beauty that awaited his friends and his followers, he also knew the pain of separation that was upon Mary and Martha, and upon others. The promise of future resurrection doesn’t take away the pain of the here and now, so Jesus was weeping out of compassion for those who mourned.
Jesus was weeping also because of the human condition, and the hardened hearts of so many. Jesus knew that as soon as he called for Lazarus to come out of the tomb, there would be his opponents, with ever-hardened hearts, plotting in earnest to put him to death. It is easy to wonder, how can some hearts become so hardened? Not just against belief and faith, but against goodness and compassion and love.
While Jesus wept for Lazarus, he was weeping for the whole of humanity and for the hardness of heart that was endemic to so many. The tears of Jesus challenge us to weep for humanity as well. Do we weep over the troubles of others; not just our own, but those of others? Do we weep when we see the depth of the struggles some people face? Do we weep when we see how difficult life is for so many? Some of us are blessed to have a station in life that shields us from what so many people face every day of their lives. Once again, violence has reminded us of the difficulties facing so many. The shootings in Atlanta call attention to the struggles facing Asian-Americans. We have long been aware of the difficulties placed upon Black people, but it is also Asian-Americans and the native peoples of our land. There are so many people, just because of who they are, because of who God created them to be, who face so many struggles because of prejudice, injustice, and so many other struggles put upon them. It ought to break our hearts and cause us to weep that some people, when they get up in the morning, just because of who they are, must worry about their safety, must worry about securing equality, and must worry about so many things that many of us never have to consider.
In weeping, Jesus wept not only for Lazarus, but for the entirety of the human condition and for all the sufferings of people. In weeping for others, we become more like Jesus, as we think not only about ourselves, but about others. My life might be full of blessings, but I must remember that there are so many people whose lives are full of struggle and I must work to improve their lives, I need to identify with them, I need to minister to them, and I need to do what I can to help them in meaningful ways. We must weep for their struggles, the pain of their rejection, their loneliness, their loss, over how they have been treated by society, by their family, and even by churches.
That Jesus wept tells us so much about who he was, and about who we are called to be.
Now I want to say some things about verse 37, which tells us of those along the edges of the scene, watching Jesus with suspicion. Last week I spoke about the critics of Jesus who were watching in order to criticize. Verse 37 is similar but takes the opposition to Jesus even further. But some of them said, could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying? This is an example of the truth that not every question asked is to secure information. This is a question asked not to gain information, but to make a point. This type of question is similar to one I was often asked by my parents when I was young – do you really think that’s a good idea? That is not a question that is expecting an answer, but one that is making a point that I am about to do something foolish or harmful. The question asked of Jesus was a way of expressing their skepticism and they offered it in a mocking way. It showed, at best, a level of insensitivity and at the worst, cruelty. The people asking this question were not interested in Lazarus as much as they were interested in criticizing Jesus, and they were happy to use the death of Lazarus to do so, which was an act of cruelty on their part. They were willing to use the grief of Mary and Martha to make their point, and that is a really harsh attitude. It’s insensitive. It’s uncaring. To use the suffering and the grief of another person to make a point against another person is cruel.
How can it be so difficult to treat people with compassion and dignity? Humanity so often fails to do so, and is it really that difficult? How is it so difficult to follow some of the most simple and basic commands of God, commands that ask only that we treat one another with love and compassion? Take the 10 Commandments, for instance. Those are words God should never have had to say. Don’t kill people, don’t take other people’s stuff, and don’t say things about others what isn’t true. When you think about it, those commands are a really low bar, morally speaking. Is it that hard? For humanity, it evidently is. We see again, sadly, such a terrible, senseless act of violence, this time in Atlanta. This is not an isolated incident – it is commonplace! We see this over and over again. It is the hardhearted, uncaring, nature of humanity that spawns such violence and hatred.
It is true, obviously, that Jesus did not raise everyone. Jesus raised the daughter of Jairus. He raised the widow’s son. And he raised Lazarus. What Jesus was demonstrating was the larger point. His raising of Lazarus was to show, as he says in verses 25 and 26, I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies, and whoever lives and believes in me will never die. He said this before raising Lazarus, when those words could not be comprehended, but when the people saw Lazarus walk out of that tomb, they witnessed the reality that Jesus possessed power over even death. It was a way for Jesus to show not only that Lazarus lived again, but in a greater way, everyone will one day rise from their tomb and will live in eternity. Resurrection is the promise that is offered to all of us, and this is the larger point Jesus wanted understood.
And then John records these words of Jesus –take off his grave clothes and let him go. Those words mark the end of this amazing miracle. It’s an almost anticlimactic conclusion to this part of the story, at least on the surface. I like the image of this – take off his grave clothes and let him go. I don’t know how bound up Lazarus was, but imagine what the moment must have been like. Imagine what it was like for Mary and Martha to see that head covering come off and to see the living, breathing face of their brother again. To see the other bindings come loose and to see Lazarus walk away from the tomb and to come to embrace his sisters and to embrace his friends, and certainly to embrace Jesus as well. What a powerful moment that was!
It’s a powerful moment for us as well, as it reminds us to take off what binds us. I love the song that Wanda sang earlier, You Raise Me Up. I listen to that song often. I have several versions on iTunes and love listening to it. As many times as I have listened to the song, there is one line that jumped out to me this morning in a way that it never has before. It is the line sometimes, I think I glimpse eternity. Isn’t that a beautiful line? People glimpsed eternity that day, when they saw Lazarus walk out of that tomb. That was a glimpse of eternity. It was just a glimpse, but what a glimpse it was. To see what is to come; what a gift! As Lazarus was able to embrace his sisters and friends, it was a foreshadowing of the day when we too will rise and will embrace the family and friends who have gone on before us.
But while we are in that long in-between, we still have much that binds us. Sometimes, we must say to ourselves, loosen those bonds, and let them go. Every one of us today, whether you are here in person or watching by the livestream, have things that bind us. But it’s hard to let go, isn’t it? Maybe our miracle would be the ability to let go of what has bound us for so long. I’m 63 years old, and I am still bound by some of the same things that bound me when I was a young boy, or a 16-year-old teenager, or a 30-year-old adult, or a 40-year-old entering into the middle of life. They are still there, and it is past time for me to say, let them go Dave! You’ve been bound for too long! Allow yourself to experience the resurrection that can come now. Let God and the power of His Spirit unbind you! Let those dead graveclothes fall away and embrace the newness of resurrection that comes not only at our last breath, but the resurrection that can come right now, in this life! Don’t be bound up by the death and decay of an old life that seeks to hold you in its grip! Take hold of that new life that God offers to you right now! That’s why we need – and why we get – those glimpses of eternity, because we need them. When I get that glimpse, I can let all the old pass away. When I get that glimpse, I can overcome those struggles that weigh me down. Maybe it’s been a tough week, a tough month, a tough year, or even a tough several years, but then I get that glimpse, and the old falls away.
Let’s step into that new life – today!
Wednesday, March 17, 2021
March 14, 2021 Rebooting Life: I Once Was Blind, but Now I See
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This morning wecontinue the series of messages titled Rebooting Life. Today’s message is I Once Was Blind, But Now I See. It is the third message in this series, and a continuation of a year of messages that have all shared the theme of the way our faith can carry us through times of difficulty, how we can find good even in the midst of great difficulty, and how God’s hand moves even in the midst of overwhelming challenge.
Today is one year since the pandemic closed our church to in-person worship. We were 12 weeks out of church from that date, although we were able to share the livestream. We began offering a livestream of our worship about a month before the pandemic struck, and having the ability to offer the livestream has indeed been a great blessing. So much has transpired in the past year, so much that we could have scarcely imagined on this day last March.
The title of this message is, obviously, a reference to that most beloved of hymns, Amazing Grace. When John Newton wrote those immortal words, he spoke of a type of blindness that is far more common than physical blindness – and much more difficult to heal – and that is spiritual blindness. All of us – either in the past, present, or future – will find spiritual blindness to be a reality in our lives.
In this morning’s Scripture text, Jesus is traveling through Jericho, on his way to Jerusalem, for the final week of his life. Jericho is one of the world’s oldest cities, rich in history. Even in the time of Jesus, Jericho was an ancient city. Situated about 12 or 15 miles from Jerusalem, Jericho saw many pilgrims on their way to Jerusalem for the Passover festival. On this day, the city of Jericho was abuzz with excitement as Jesus was passing through. People were jockeying for position in order to see, Jesus, of whom they had heard so much. On the edge of the crowd was a man, Bartimaeus, who was blind, and begging for alms. Jesus healed Bartimaeus from his blindness, and in doing so, revealed that many people, while having perfectly good eyesight, remain in spiritual blindness. The way Mark ties those two types of blindness – physical and spiritual – together in this story makes for a very interesting irony.
Follow along with me as I read that passage, Mark 10:46-52 –
46 Then they came to Jericho. As Jesus and his disciples, together with a large crowd, were leaving the city, a blind man, Bartimaeus (which means “son of Timaeus”), was sitting by the roadside begging.
47 When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”
48 Many rebuked him and told him to be quiet, but he shouted all the more, “Son of David, have mercy on me!”
49 Jesus stopped and said, “Call him.”
So they called to the blind man, “Cheer up! On your feet! He’s calling you.”
50 Throwing his cloak aside, he jumped to his feet and came to Jesus.
51 “What do you want me to do for you?” Jesus asked him.
The blind man said, “Rabbi, I want to see.”
52 “Go,” said Jesus, “your faith has healed you.” Immediately he received his sight and followed Jesus along the road.
As I have done the past few weeks, I want to walk through this passage and make some observations as we go. As always, there are some interesting – and odd – elements in this story. Odd, as in this – when Bartimaeus learns that Jesus is passing by, he begins to cry out to Jesus. When he did, Mark says that the crowd rebuked him and told him to be quiet. Does that seem odd to you? Why would the people in the crowd want to silence Bartimaeus? I’m sure the crowd was already loud and rowdy and more than a little bit raucous. Jesus was in town, and people were excited to see him. So why would they be worried about one person calling to Jesus, when so many were probably already calling his name? Telling Bartimaeus to stop shouting would be like attending a sold-out basketball game at Rupp Arena or the Yum Center and criticizing someone for cheering after a great play! What sense does it make to try and silence someone in the midst of an excited, and loud, crowd of people? And not only that, but who tells a blind man to be quiet? Who rebukes – to use Mark’s word – a guy who is blind? Isn’t that cold, and callous, to turn around to Bartimaeus and say, would you please be quiet? And almost by insinuation, would you please go back to your begging, be quiet, and stay out of the way? Who treats someone in that way? I have puzzled over this question for a long time, and I puzzled over it quite a bit in the last week, and I’ll share with you what I have come to believe as to why the crowd would treat Bartimaeus in such a way.
One reason, I believe, is because Bartimaeus was inconvenient to the crowd. Because he was blind, Bartimaeus could not work and was forced to beg for alms. His doing so was inconvenient to people. Need is always inconvenient to society. Need gets in the way of people who want to enjoy their prosperity and not be faced with the harsh realities of those who suffer. I was in Atlanta in the mid 80s for a large religious convention when I first became aware of a practice common in large cities. When cities have conventions, with large numbers of visitors, it is common for them to move the homeless population out of sight. I should add that this was not done at the request of the organizers of the convention; the city made that move on their own. Atlanta was certainly not the only city who did this routinely; Louisville, which is a city with a lot of conventions, made it a practice as well, and only backed away from the practice when they came under criticism several years ago. Cities do not want visitors to see problems when they came to visit; they wanted people to see the sights and to spend money and enjoy themselves. Need becomes inconvenient to those who visit in the cities.
Need can, and often does, make us uncomfortable. Need confronts us with the question of what we are doing to help, and whether or not we could be doing more to help others. Maybe the crowd felt it was easier to push Bartimaeus aside, silencing his voice, and in doing so freeing themselves from the burden of responsibility.
The crowd, after all, had turned out to see Jesus, and who wouldn’t? Jesus was a celebrity of his day, and here was the chance for people to see him. Even with the limited communication technologies of the day, the word about Jesus had spread far and wide. Jesus was, perhaps, the most famous person of his day, so certainly people wanted to turn out to see him. But who turns out for a blind person? Not only did they not turn out for him; they tried to quiet him. We’re not here for you – we’re here to see Jesus! Obviously, the crowd must not have known much about Jesus, or they would not have been so dismissive of Bartimaeus. If the crowd did know about Jesus, they would have understood that the people he took note of were the blind, those who could not walk, those who were on the edges of society, and all manner of those who struggle. The crowd, if they knew anything about Jesus, would have known that people like the woman who pressed through another crowd, hoping to touch the edge of Jesus’ cloak, was representative of the people who mattered to Jesus. It was such people that Jesus wanted to see. Jesus did not want people such as Bartimaeus pushed to the side and silenced; no, he wanted to see them, to reach out to them, and to heal them. And he wanted others to see them, to notice them, and to reach out to them as well. These are the people, he would say, I have come to reach out to. These are the people who matter to me, and if you want to acknowledge my Lordship and who I am, these people will matter to you as well. Do not overlook them, do not push them to the side, and do not seek to silence them.
While some may have wanted to silence Bartimaeus, he was not going to miss his chance. When you are blind, and you hear that Jesus is coming along, why would you miss out on such an opportunity? This was a cry of desperation on the part of Bartimaeus. I don’t know how long Bartimaeus had been blind, but it was long enough that he was very desperate. Have you been desperate before? I mean really desperate. When you see an opportunity to move out of your desperation, are you going to give a nice, polite cry? No! We would shout at the top of our lungs if we believed we had the opportunity to be healed, and that is exactly what Bartimaeus did.
Let’s stay with the crowd for a moment yet. One of the interesting aspects of the city of Jericho is this – there were thousands of priests who were connected to the temple in Jerusalem. There were far more than could serve at any one time, so they served in shifts. Because Jericho was close to Jerusalem – about 12 or 15 miles away – many of the priests lived there when they were not serving in the temple. Some probably lived in Jerusalem, but others opted for Jericho – the suburbs, the country life. Among the crowd watching for Jesus that day would most certainly have been a good many priests, and most were probably watching him with a very skeptical eye. They were the ones in the crowd with their arms crossed and scowls on their faces. It was their way of communicating to Jesus that they were displeased with him. They were displeased with Jesus because he did things like heal on the Sabbath, and his disciples did not wash their hands according to prescribed rituals. Jesus did not always meet the standard of orthodoxy of the priests, so they were watching him with disapproval and skepticism. They wanted to be sure Jesus knew they did not like what he did, they did not like how he did what he did, and that they did not approve of him.
There are always those who are watching, keeping an eye on us to approve or disapprove of whether or not we are acceptable, or orthodox, in their eyes. They want to serve as our theological judges and juries. Those criticsstood in opposition to Jesus because they did not believe he was orthodox enough in his actions. There are always those people who want to be our theological judge, as though they are qualified to do so. Who gave them that job? God didn’t. There are theological questions worth asking, such as, are there limits to what we should believe or not believe? Should we have a creed that we accept as the definition of our beliefs? Should there be a line we do not cross when it comes to our beliefs and our interpretations of the Bible? But here is the problem with those who want to enforce orthodoxy and impose a creed – it’s not only what should be required, but who gets to decide what is required, and where the limits are, and where the theological boundary lines are drawn? That’s why Disciples churches don’t use creeds, or enforce orthodoxy, because ultimately, it doesn’t work very well. Who decides? Do I? Well, that would be easy. I would require everyone to believe like me. I would be the one who gets to set the theological boundaries. But that would be a terrible idea, as much as it might appeal to me.
Speaking of theological judges, let’s talk about Beth Moore for a moment. Does everyone know who Beth Moore is? Beth Moore is the ultimate rock star of Bible teachers, if that’s the right way to put it. Millions of people use her Bible studies, go to her conferences, and read her books. She’s about as big as one gets in the religious world, when it comes to a teacher. If you haven’t kept up with the news about Beth Moore in recent days, she announced the other day that she was no longer a Southern Baptist. This is a really, really big deal. She has been a Southern Baptist all her life, which is a good while (she’s about two months older than me). To make an analogy with the sports world, it was a really big deal when Tom Brady left New England for Tampa Bay. Beth Moore leaving the SBC is that kind of move times twenty, at least. There are male leaders in the SBC who have done their best to make Beth Moore’s life miserable for a long time, and they finally pushed her away. They have been critical of her because, well, simply because she’s a woman and they don’t like that she teaches and preaches and that she has a huge following and they can’t control her. When I was writing my column for the Sentinel-News, I wrote a column about the mistreatment of Beth Moore, and of women in general by some churches. I sent a copy of the column to her office. Last year I sent her a book. I found out she liked a particular author, so I sent her one of the author’s books. Not long after that, I was reading some comments on her Twitter feed, and among the comments were a lot of criticisms, so I left a comment, encouraging her to keep going and to not be discouraged. And she responded! She has like, 900 billion Twitter followers and I was surprised she responded to my comment. I’ll never forget; she said – are you the creepy guy who keeps sending stuff to my office? Actually, she didn’t say that, but she did kindly respond. I understand a little of what Beth Moore went through – just a little bit – because I spent almost thirty years as a part of the SBC, and the theological litmus tests and dealing with the self-appointed guardians of orthodoxy finally wore me out. At the worst, I had someone come to the church I was serving at the time on a Sunday morning, upset with me because of my theology. About 20 minutes before the worship service started someone came to me and told me a young man was there to see me, and that he was very, very upset. I had no idea what he could possibly want, and why he was so upset. I had never met the person before, and I don’t know what he thought he knew about me, but I was quite taken back at his confrontational attitude. Quite honestly, it was a bit concerning, because he was so upset, so angry, and seemed so unpredictable in that moment that I didn’t know what he might be capable of doing. He confronted me in the sanctuary, so I asked him to step out on the porch to talk. Once outside, I told him that I had no idea why he had come to the church to confront me, but I felt it best that he should leave immediately. He protested a bit, but I insisted that he leave, which he did, eventually.
But my experiences pale in comparison in comparison to what Beth Moore has endured. The SBC was not my lifelong spiritual home, but it was hers, and she was treated horribly by a group of people – men – who thought it was their right to serve as the keepers of the keys to God’s kingdom and to approve who can and cannot serve God. The conflict and the narrowing of theological parameters became too much for her to continue, although, as she said, it wasn’t so much that she left them as they left her. I can guarantee you this, however – departing from the SBC will not be Beth Moore’s loss. She will be quite fine, but her leaving serves as a very pointed rejection of the self-righteous, self-appointed, guardians of orthodoxy who believe it is their right to stand in the place of judgment that belongs only to God. It is not only a shot across the bow – but through the bow – of the same kind of self-righteousness that was on display by some in the crowd as Jesus passed through Jericho. And if her departure doesn’t cause them to do some soul searching, they are more hard-hearted than I ever imagined.
Now, let’s talk about one more thing from this passage this morning. I want to talk for a few minutes about evidence. This passage, like those from the previous two weeks, raises an important question about evidence, as it presents a miracle of Jesus. Now, I want to mention that when you read John’s gospel you will not find the word miracle. Instead of the word miracle, John is alone among the gospel writers in using the word sign. John considers them miracles, but he uses the word signbecause they are evidences of who Jesus was. The miracles give witness to the divine nature of Jesus, so John uses the word signto underscore that the miraclesare for the purpose of demonstrating Jesus’ divine nature. The signspoint to the truth that Jesus is God incarnate, he is the Creator entering the creation, he is the one who not only created the laws of this universe but is also the one who can supersede those laws when he chooses to do so. The common thread of the stories we have studied for these three weeks is this – they are stories that bear testimony to the divine nature of Jesus. This is, then, the ironic way in which Mark presents the character of Bartimaeus, who was blind, but he was surrounded by so much spiritual blindness, as so many refused to recognize who Jesus was.
In the quest for evidence, we still see a great deal of spiritual blindness. I mean, how much evidence is needed for some people? We have all heard people say, if I could see some real evidence of God’s existence, I would believe. If I could just see some evidence that would convince me beyond a shadow of a doubt, I would believe. What, though, constitutes evidence? How obvious does the evidence need to be in order to be convincing? Personally, I’ve always been a bit skeptical that evidence can ever be sufficient for some people, although I believe in evidence and believe in using evidence in apologetics. To me, evidence is all around us. To look up at the night sky and see the countless stars, for instance, which constitute only a tiny, tiny fraction of those that fill the universe is very compelling evidence. The fine-tuning of our planet – and our universe – that is so precise that if even the slightest element of that fine tuning were to change, life could not exist and the universe would implode or explode, is also very compelling. But it is not enough for some people, as even the gospels tell us. Last week I referenced the raising of Lazarus from the dead, and John tells us in the latter part of the story – 47 Then the chief priests and the Pharisees called a meeting of the Sanhedrin. “What are we accomplishing?” they asked. “Here is this man performing many signs. 48 If we let him go on like this, everyone will believe in him, and then the Romans will come and take away both our temple and our nation.” 49 Then one of them, named Caiaphas, who was high priest that year, spoke up, “You know nothing at all! 50 You do not realize that it is better for you that one man die for the people than that the whole nation perish.”Instead of convincing Caiaphas and others, the raising of Lazarus instead made them more determined to put Jesus to death. It’s not, then, that I am against using evidence as an argument for the existence of God; it’s just that I find that for many people, no amount of evidence will ever be enough to convince them of the reality of God. Luke 16:19-31 seems to affirm this, as it tells us the parable of the rich man and Lazarus. The rich man and Lazarus pass away. Lazarus goes to paradise, while the rich man goes to Hades. In Hades he lifts up his eyes and asks Abraham, 27 “He answered, ‘Then I beg you, father, send Lazarus to my family, 28 for I have five brothers. Let him warn them, so that they will not also come to this place of torment.’ 29 “Abraham replied, ‘They have Moses and the Prophets; let them listen to them.’ 30 “‘No, father Abraham,’ he said, ‘but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.’ 31 “He said to him, ‘If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.’”
How much evidence is enough? For some people, there will never be enough. But for those whose eyes are opened to faith, evidence is everywhere. Now there is such success with eye surgery. Now, there is Lasik surgery and so many types of eye surgery that is vastly improving vision for scores of people. But we can’t do spiritual eye surgery on anyone. As Jesus moved on to Jerusalem, and as he continued to offer signsof who he was, some people’s hearts remained closed and hardened to his truth.
John Newton said, so powerfully, I once was blind, but now I see. I’m sure there were plenty of people who believed nothing would change the heart of that cruel man, but God did. God opened his eyes. That’s our hope, for all. That’s our prayer, for all.
Wednesday, March 10, 2021
March 7, 2021 Rebooting Life: The Miracle of New Beginnings
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Today is one month from Easter, spring is coming, and vaccines are rolling out! These are all signs of life, and of new beginnings, and we are beginning to feel better about the future!
This morning, we continue the series of messages that I began last week, titled Rebooting Life. In this series I am following the same basic theme I have followed since the beginning of the pandemic, which is the way in which faith can carry us through all the challenges that have come, or will come, our way.
Do you feel as though you need a reboot in life? If you don’t feel that way now, at some point you have, or at some point you will. We all need, at some point in life, a reboot, a new beginning. One of the realities of the pandemic – and I do not want to be misunderstood here, because I do not believe God caused the pandemic – is that perhaps the pandemic provides an opportunity for a reboot. While I do not believe God caused the pandemic, I always believe that God can bring good out of any challenging circumstance. That is one of the gifts of faith, as faith can help us to understand the ways in which God can use even very difficult circumstances to bring something good and beautiful to our lives. In some ways, then, this is a time for a reboot as individuals, as a community, as a church, for the church at large, and for humanity. This is an opportunity for a new beginning.
There will be, certainly, elements of life that will come back as they were before the pandemic, but there will be others that will be forever different. Some of those changes will be good, while some will not be so good. This morning we are looking at The Miracle of New Beginnings. To me, one of the most powerful aspects of the gospel is the promise of new beginnings, and a new beginning can come every day. That is, to me, a miracle.
Today’s Scripture text is a bit similar to that of last week, in that we will look at two miracles. Last week, the two stories were interwoven. The first part of the story told of the synagogue official, Jairus, who came to Jesus and asked for healing for his young daughter. When Jesus was going to the home of Jairus, a woman in the crowd touched the cloak of Jesus, knowing she would be healed if she could touch his clothing. This week, in the first story of healing, we see someone coming to Jesus, asking for healing on behalf of another person, as Jairus did. In this case it is a Roman centurion who came, asking Jesus to heal his servant. In the second part of the story, Jesus encounters a funeral procession, carrying the body of a woman’s only son. These are, like last week, very dramatic healings, although the second is more accurately described as a resurrection.
I love these two stories, so let me read them now, from Luke 7:1-16 –
1When Jesus had finished saying all this to the people who were listening, he entered Capernaum.
2 There a centurion’s servant, whom his master valued highly, was sick and about to die.
3 The centurion heard of Jesus and sent some elders of the Jews to him, asking him to come and heal his servant.
4 When they came to Jesus, they pleaded earnestly with him, “This man deserves to have you do this,
5 because he loves our nation and has built our synagogue.”
6 So Jesus went with them. He was not far from the house when the centurion sent friends to say to him: “Lord, don’t trouble yourself, for I do not deserve to have you come under my roof.
7 That is why I did not even consider myself worthy to come to you. But say the word, and my servant will be healed.
8 For I myself am a man under authority, with soldiers under me. I tell this one, ‘Go,’ and he goes; and that one, ‘Come,’ and he comes. I say to my servant, ‘Do this,’ and he does it.”
9 When Jesus heard this, he was amazed at him, and turning to the crowd following him, he said, “I tell you, I have not found such great faith even in Israel.”
10 Then the men who had been sent returned to the house and found the servant well.
11 Soon afterward, Jesus went to a town called Nain, and his disciples and a large crowd went along with him.
12 As he approached the town gate, a dead person was being carried out—the only son of his mother, and she was a widow. And a large crowd from the town was with her.
13 When the Lord saw her, his heart went out to her and he said, “Don’t cry.”
14 Then he went up and touched the bier they were carrying him on, and the bearers stood still. He said, “Young man, I say to you, get up!”
15 The dead man sat up and began to talk, and Jesus gave him back to his mother.
16 They were all filled with awe and praised God. “A great prophet has appeared among us,” they said. “God has come to help his people.”
These are such great, such powerful stories. As I did last week, I want to go through these stories and share some observations.
First, let’s set a bit of the background. Luke is interesting as he shares stories because he is very detailed and methodical. Last week, I mentioned that Mark is very economical in his use of words. Mark provides, generally speaking, the barest of details, sharing only the most important details and providing no more information than he feels we need to know. When I read Mark’s gospel, I often find myself wishing that he would share more details. Luke, by contrast, gives us more background and more information. One of the details Luke provides in this story is that it is a Roman centurion who sent a request to Jesus, asking that his servant be healed. It is important to remember that the Romans were occupiers of Israel, and their presence was not at all welcomed by the Jewish people. The Romans, always anxious to emphasize their much-vaunted Pax Romana(the Roman Peace), rarely acknowledged that they achieved that peace through debilitating violence and cruelty. Their willingness to employ a crushing level of violence demonstrated their lack of sensitivity to the concerns of the people over whom they ruled. This situation made it all the more remarkable that a Roman centurion would approach Jesus, asking for help for his servant. Most of the people who were present – perhaps all who were present – would have resented a Roman soldier coming to Jesus, and certainly would not have been pleased that one was approaching Jesus, asking for help. In the case of this particular Roman, however, it is interesting what Luke has to say. In verses 4 and 5, Luke records that they (that is, some of the local elders)pleaded earnestly with him, “This man deserves to have you do this, because he loves our nation and has built our synagogue. That representatives of the local population would speak in such a way of a member of an occupying military force is quite remarkable. Clearly, this soldier was different from the others. He had won the respect and admiration of the local population.
But let us think a little more deeply about this. You might have noted that when the elders came to Jesus, they said the centurion deserves to have you do this (verse 4). That’s an interesting comment, isn’t it? It sounds, on the surface, like a great comment. Here are elders of the people of Israel, coming to Jesus on behalf of a Roman centurion. The Romans were so despised that it is truly a remarkable moment that some of the people subjugated by Rome would come to Jesus to plead on his behalf. Indeed, it is no small matter that they did so, and that they were willing to come to Jesus on his behalf is, to some measure, a triumph of compassion and a willingness to step across the boundaries of convention. Even more remarkably, they said the centurion loves our nation and has built our synagogue(verse 5). Generally speaking, I think it is very accurate to say that the Romans did not care much about the people over whom they ruled. This Roman, however, did.
But let’s dig down a bit deeper into what Luke tells us. Luke tells us that the elders come to Jesus and ask on behalf of the centurion because of what he had done for them. In my opinion, that makes this less impressive, because they are making love conditional. The elders of the people are coming to Jesus to plead on behalf of the centurion because he had done something for them. Here is what we must remember – love, certainly the agapelove Jesus asks us to have for others – should never be conditional. Agapelove is the greatest of all the various expressions of love, and it is the love shown by God in Jesus. It is a love that does not say that people must be deserving of love, it is a love that is not conditional, it is a love that does not have any limits, and it does not depend upon what someone does for us. Agapelove does not say, I will do this because of what you have done for me, but is willing to say, I will do for you and love you in spite of what you have done to me. The idea that one has to be deserving of love is out of the question when it comes to agapelove. God doesn’t love us because we deserve it; God loves us in spite of the fact that we do notdeserve it. In this passage, the elders are saying, in essence, because he loves our nation and has built our synagogue, we deem him worthy, because he has done something for us. What they did was not reveal their love for the centurion as much as they revealed that they have a transactional view of love. And to be honest, isn’t this true of all of us? Don’t we all, to some extent, love someone because of what they have done for us? And there is nothing wrong with this. It’s great to have someone do something for us, and when someone does something for us, it is fine to feel affection and love for them in return. If, however, we want to love in the way God has demonstrated love through Jesus, then we don’t talk about whether or not someone has to do something for us, or that they have to be deserving, before we love them. Paul writes in Romans 5:8, for instance, thatGod demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Not when we have come to the point of deserving God’s love, not when we have come to the point of deserving the gift of God’s love, but while we were still sinners. So, what we see here, in this story from Luke’s gospel, is this limited view of love that is far too common among humanity. When we look at our setting, our context, it is obvious it is not different from the time of Jesus. There was a lot of division in the time of Jesus. The people did not like the Romans occupying their land. They were angry about it and they were bitter about their presence. But there were others, such as the Herodians, who were happy to accommodate the presence of the Romans and to seek to benefit from it if it was possible to do so. These differences in opinion led to deep political divisions in the land, and there were very deep religious divisions as well. Obviously, we live in a very divided time as well. So, while we see some movement across the divisions of the time, and it is worth applauding that movement, we also see the limitations of that movement, as it only took place because the people had received something from this centurion, and not because they were willing to love him regardless of who he was and to love him even if he had not done anything for the people. It was a love that had conditions, and it required that the recipient of their love be deserving. Here’s what we must be careful to avoid – we can never communicate that someone needs to be deserving of God’s love or our love.
Here’s a very important element of Jesus’ ministry – Jesus never waited until someone was deserving of his love, and he never required that someone have to earn his love. What we must understand is that we should never require someone to be deservingbefore we will step across a political or religious or social divide. We can’t seem to get beyond this in our time, just as people in the time of Jesus could not get beyond that expectation. The elders who came to Jesus probably saw themselves as doing something wonderful by arguing on behalf of the centurion – and in some ways they were – but they were doing it because of a conditional love, because of what he had done for them. We must get beyond the type of thinking that says, before I reach out in love to someone who is not like me, to someone who doesn’t like me, to someone I don’t like, to someone who thinks differently from me, to someone who believes differently from me, to someone who looks differently from me, they must first become deserving.
And here’s something that most likely angered people – the centurion told Jesus he did not need to come to his house, because, as a soldier, he understood authority. If he told one of his soldiers where to go and what to do, they did it without question. Understanding authority, he saw the healing authority of Jesus, and that Jesus only needed to speak the word and his servant would be healed. Upon hearing the centurion’s response, Luke tells us that Jesus was amazed at him, and turning to the crowd following him, he said, “I tell you, I have not found such great faith even in Israel(verse 9). Can you imagine the people in the crowd that day, who so despised the presence of the Romans in their land, hearing Jesus say that no one in their country had the faith of a Roman soldier? That must have sent out some shock waves. There were probably people who gasped at those words. There were, certainly, many people unhappy with Jesus for his claim.
In the next story, we find one of the most dramatic healings performed by Jesus. Interestingly, while the raising of Lazarus is very well known, the raising from the dead of this young man seems to be overlooked by many people. The story of Lazarus, in John 11, is a longer story, which allows for elements that add to the drama. That Lazarus and his family were close friends of Jesus also make it a story with great appeal. But this story of the young man being raised to life is no less dramatic, certainly, but is often overlooked.
When Jesus saw the funeral procession, he was moved by what he saw. Luke says his heart went out to her(verse 13). I believe Luke mentions that this was the woman’s only son for a reason. Perhaps she had daughters as well, but the harsh reality of the time was that the woman was a widow, which meant she did not inherit her husband’s estate when he died. We might not like that reality, but that was the way inheritances worked in that time period, which meant this woman was in very difficult circumstances. Instead, the estate would have passed to the son, who would have been the one to receive and control the estate. The person who held the economic fate of his mother was now gone. Now that the son was gone, who was left to care for his mother? Not only had this woman lost her son, she was also very much at risk economically. She was, indeed, in very difficult straits.
Luke says that Jesus was moved by the circumstances of this woman. Of course he was! The gospels often talk about how Jesus was moved by compassion for others. The word for compassion is one that is an interesting word. It insinuates that compassion is something you feel in your gut. Compassion is something that causes one to have a physical, visceral reaction. You know that feeling. We see something that moves us, and we can feel a physical reaction within us. Sometimes, it’s emotional, something that brings us to tears because of sadness, while at other times we feel a great sense of outrage over an injustice that has taken place. Jesus was profoundly moved by what he saw, so he steps forward and touches the bier on which the young man’s body was being carried. It is important to remember that when Jesus touched it, he became unclean. To touch a dead body was to make one ceremonially unclean, and there was a process one had to go through in order to be once again be considered clean. This is not the only time when Jesus violated religions conventions. Jesus knew that the way religious regulations were interpreted and applied could actually hinder one’s ability to minister to others (an example of this is when Jesus heals a man on the Sabbath, in Mark 3:1-6). And that is a great tragedy, when the structures of faith and the institutions of religion can put up regulations that can actually hinder ministry. Jesus did not allow such hindrances to limit his ministry, and he raised the young man to life. Luke says Jesus gave him back to his mother (verse 15). Isn’t that a great way to put it? He gave him back to his mother. He gave him his life back. We often use that phrase. I want my life back. How many times have we said, during the pandemic, I want my life back! I want to be able to go where I want to go! I want to visit my family and friends! I don’t want to have to wear a mask! I want to get on a plane and visit a beach! We want our lives back, don’t we? We feel as though so much of our lives have been taken from us. And, to some extent, that is true. But, on the other hand, let us remember that we are still breathing. We are with our families. Here, in this story, is a person who in such a dramatic, literal way, had their life given back to them. Jesus raised him back to life. There is an amazing, beautiful miracle. Imagine what it was like for this young man, for his mother, for his family, and for their friends. What a new beginning!
We have the miracle of new beginnings. Jesus gave a new beginning to many people, and he gives us the miracle of a new beginning. What we are going through, with this pandemic, is not easy. But we also see the beauty of new beginnings. How often do we wish, in the course of a year, a month, a week, or even a day, I wish I could start again? There are times we wish we could restart the day, or the week, or the month, or the year. God gives us the miracle of a new beginning. Our past is not held against us. Others might hold our past against us, but God doesn’t. The miracles of Jesus, such as this one, are reminders of the new beginnings we are given. It is a reminder that, when the pandemic ends, humanity gets a new beginning, and what will we do with that new beginning? Has this time taught us to be more compassionate? Has it taught us to be more just, to be more fair, to be more loving? We have a new beginning, a do-over. God is giving us an opportunity to make things better. Life can be what it was meant to be. That is the miracle of a new beginning.