We Are Easter People…So We Believe

(A sermon for the Second Sunday of Easter based on 1 Peter 1:3-9 & John 20:19-31)

Long before there was a denominational calendar with things like mission offerings and ministry emphasis days, which are certainly important, there was a Christian calendar, the purpose of which is to order our worship and our lives according to the seasons of the Christian year. When we consider the Christian calendar we find that some interesting facts emerge. For example, on the Christian calendar, Christmas Day is both the end of the Advent season and the beginning of the Christmas season, a season that does not end until the second Sunday in January. For another example, Easter Sunday marks the end of Lent and Holy Week but also marks the beginning of the Easter Season, which does not end until Pentecost. Observing the Season of Easter allows us to pay particular and prolonged attention to what difference Easter really makes in the world, in the Church, and in our lives. It reminds us that we are always Easter people.

So, for a few Sundays I want to think with you about what it means to be “Easter people.” We begin by observing that because we are Easter people, we believe. That is, we believe in the resurrected Jesus Christ. And that’s not as easy as we make it sound.

If we are honest, many if not most of us would have to admit to some struggle with such belief. It’s not that easy to believe in someone being raised from the dead, given that none of us has ever experienced or witnessed such a thing. I did see a sign in a business once that said, “If you don’t believe that the dead can be raised, you should be around here at closing time.” Really, though, none of us has ever seen it happen. We want to believe and we need to believe. But the resurrection of Jesus is not scientifically verifiable and so we are left with a belief that must be based on something besides physical evidence.

In public worship, we proclaim our belief. In private reflection, sometimes we wonder.

Thomas is helpful to us here. Thomas has come to be regarded as something of a patron saint for doubters. “Doubting Thomas,” we call him, but he has frankly gotten something of a bum rap. Let’s take a close look at what happened. On Easter evening, the disciples were locked away in case those who had done Jesus in came after them, too. Suddenly, in that locked room, Jesus appeared and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he showed them his hands and side. “Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord.” Thomas was not there. We are in no position to fault him for his absence because we have no idea where he was. When the other disciples told him that they had seen the resurrected Jesus, Thomas said, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.” Notice that all he was asking for was the same opportunity that the other disciples had received. They believed only upon seeing for themselves. He wanted to see for himself, too.

Upon seeing and believing, Thomas made a tremendous affirmation: “My Lord and my God!” Hearing that, Jesus said, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” Every believer after that generation of disciples who saw the resurrected Lord is numbered among those happy ones. From where does our belief come? We have the testimony that has come down to us through the gospel message (v. 31). And surely the faith that we are able to express comes somehow as a gift from God: “For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God” (Ephesians 2:8). Such faith comes exactly from hearing the gospel message: “Faith comes from what is heard, and what is heard comes through the word of Christ” (Romans 10:17).

So our faith comes through hearing. But there is a sense in which we have seen the resurrected Lord even though we have not literally seen him. We have seen the effect of the resurrected Christ on other people. We see him in the lives of those who have come to believe in him. Those out there who do not believe can see the effect of the resurrected Lord on us.

But they struggle, too. If we who follow the resurrected Lord have our own crises of faith and our own struggles with belief, we can imagine how hard it must be for those who have not yet reached the point of belief. All kinds of things get in their way. Sin gets in their way. Tragedies and trials get in their way. Wealth and success get in their way. Sometimes, unfortunately, professing Christians get in their way by bearing inadequate witness to who Jesus is and to what salvation is all about. It can be different than that, though; they really can see the power of the resurrected Christ in our lives.

They can see the power of the resurrected Christ in the ways our lives are changing. In 1 Peter we read,

By his great mercy he has given us a new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who are being protected by the power of God through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. (1:3b-5)

Easter people have been given a new life with a certain future, all guaranteed by the power of God. We have a deep heart-felt joy that shows itself in our lives, even when we are going through trials and suffering, because we know that our trials strengthen our faith. Indeed, Peter said,

Although you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and rejoice with an indescribable and glorious joy, for you are receiving the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls. (1:8-9).

Jesus said that we are blessed when we believe in him even though we don’t see him. Peter expands on that by saying that in such faith we can display love and joy because we know that we are being saved. That’s what the people out there who are struggling to believe can see in us: faith, love, hope, and joy. And that’s what they need.

They can also see the power of the resurrected Christ in the workings of the Holy Spirit in our lives. The resurrected Jesus breathed on his disciples and told them to “receive the Holy Spirit.” As the events of the Day of Pentecost and the teachings of the New Testament reveal, all Christians are empowered by the Holy Spirit. The Spirit is God’s ongoing presence with us. We are empowered, molded, led, and taught by the very Spirit of God. That must make a powerful difference in our lives! “The fruit of the Spirit,” Paul said, “is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control” (Galatians 5:22-23a). God gives us the power to live remarkably transformed lives, lives that run counter to the predominant ways of the world and thereby bear powerful witness to our life in Christ.

Finally, they can see the power of the resurrected Christ in our lives through the ministry of forgiveness. When Jesus breathed the Holy Spirit on his disciples he named a particular way that they would be empowered: “If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained” (v. 23). Now, the overall witness of the Bible is that only God can forgive sins. But here we are told that the followers of Christ have a role to play in forgiveness as well. What does this mean, then?

First, it means that the ministry of Jesus is continued through his Church. Jesus came to be the avenue through whom people would find God’s forgiveness. We of the Church are to be a similar avenue. But it is important to note that we are empowered by God’s Spirit to carry out that ministry. We do this not in our own power but only in the power of God.

Second, it means that we are to proclaim the message of forgiveness. We do this with our words and with our actions. When someone repents of her sins we are to communicate the assurance of forgiveness to her. We do that in the ways that we talk to her; we also do it in the ways that we treat her. A church that holds a grudge or that refuses to acknowledge repentance or that chooses to be closed to the people who need God’s forgiveness forfeit this ministry of forgiveness. On the other hand, we are not called to treat forgiveness as if it is a light thing or to treat grace as if it were a cheap thing. We are to live lives that are changed by God’s Spirit and love and we are to call others to live such lives as well.

Third, it means that we offer forgiveness ourselves. Jesus calls us to forgive as we have been forgiven. Jesus calls us to forgive radically and abundantly. We can do so only because we are empowered by the Holy Spirit and by God’s grace to do so. But as people see we who bear the name of Christian forgive, they will be better able to receive the forgiveness of God. But if they see us withhold forgiveness, they may be impeded from believing in God’s forgiveness.

We are Easter people. Because we are Easter people, we believe. We are blessed to believe even though we have not seen Jesus with our own eyes. But we have seen his power in the lives of others and we have heard the good news proclaimed. Through the hearing of that good news we have had awakened God’s gift of salvation by grace through faith. Now we have the wonderful privilege and responsibility of showing the power of the resurrected Christ in our lives through our changing lives, through the workings of the Spirit, and through the ministry of forgiveness. We believe. Now, we want others to believe. May they see Jesus in us.

Opening Day

Today is Opening Day in Major League Baseball.

(I know, the Red Sox and Athletics played two "regular season" games in Japan earlier this week. Those games were played before the Spring Training season was even over and they were played at 6:00 a.m. Eastern time. I know they count, but to me they don't. Sorry.)

Tonight my Atlanta Braves will help the Washington Nationals christen their brand new ball park. I'm happy for the Nationals. I hope the Braves break in the new stadium by shellacking the hosts.

The first day of the baseball season is always an exciting day for me. It is also a day with theological undertones.

First, everybody starts off with a clean slate. Last year's records and last decade's records don't matter. It puts me in mind of forgiveness.

Second, it is the beginning of a long haul. The Major League Baseball regular season lasts for 162 games. It really is an endurance test and those who endure to the end will be saved.

Third, teams start off with varying levels of giftedness. Some teams have better players than others. Some players are better because they work harder. But other players are just more naturally gifted. There's a mystery to that, just as there is with the "spiritual gifts" we talk about in church. The best players are those who work the hardest to develop the best natural gifts.

Fourth, it's all about the team. I saw many a terrible Braves team that had great individual players on it. But I have seen teams with less talent that came together, played as a team, developed great chemistry, and performed admirably. The strongest churches are like that.

Finally, the goal of a World Series championship is dancing before every team's eyes. It's out there somewhere beyond the horizon. It is what draws and drives every team forward. They're looking for a trophy. We're looking for a city. And on Opening Day, it's easy to believe.

Amen, and play ball!

Where We End and God Begins

At the end of Holy Week I read an article at Salon.com by Ann Bauer entitled “God Talked to Me Today.” How could I resist this lead-in: “I was an agnostic who never took my family to church. And then, my son starting hearing the voice of God”?

Her son Andrew is autistic. Bauer said that one day when Andrew was eleven he said, "When God talked to me earlier today, before I went to school..." After some prompting and waiting, she was finally able to get Andrew to tell her what God had said. “He said ‘no,’” her son said. When she asked him “No what?” he replied, “Just no. Because I knew the rest of what he meant.”

I don’t know much about autism. Bauer explained that

Classic autism is a disorder of divisions. There is no sense of "I" and "you" as being whole and separate in the world. Either that, or there is a lack of understanding that "I" and "you" are even of the same species, any more similar to each other than, say, a human being and a walrus. I've never understood exactly which it is.

With therapy, Andrew had become able to differentiate himself from others. But, Bauer said,

Then this God thing cropped up -- an echo, I decided, of all the old problems. Whereas Andrew had learned to differentiate his thoughts from mine or his teacher's, he didn't seem to understand where he ended and God began, or which of the two was speaking to the other.

“He didn’t seem to understand where he ended and God began”—what a fascinating thought.

Now, so far as I can judge such things, I’m not an agnostic; in fact, I think I’m a fairly orthodox Christian. So, lest anyone misunderstand, let me say very clearly that I recognize the existence of a clear distinction between God and humanity. That’s a pretty easy one—if God is much like we are, if he is much like I am—then “Oh no” doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Still, is there not a sense in which God sometimes comes to us in and through other people? The incarnation is the most drastic and important example of that fact—God “was in Christ, reconciling the world to himself.” God came in human form in order to reveal God’s self to us human beings. Again, orthodox Christian that I am, I recognize the uniqueness of the Christ event. Still, do we not find Christ in other people? Does not God show himself through the other?

And, given God’s way of which the New Testament so often speaks, the way of making his strength made known in human weakness and his grace made known in human brokenness, does it not stand to reason that we may catch a glimpse of God in the frailty and brokenness and weakness of another?

In his book Ruthless Trust, Brennan Manning tells the following story.

I will never forget the witness of an Episcopal priest named Tom Minifie…. He spotted a high-profile couple sitting in the last pew with their one-year-old Down’s syndrome child. It was clear from the parents’ demeanor that the little one embarrassed them. They hid in the rear of the church, perhaps planning a hasty exit once the worship service had concluded.

On their way out the door, Tom intercepted them and said, “Come into my office.” Once seated, Tom took the Down’s baby in his arms and rocked him gently. Looking into the baby’s face, he began to sob. “Do you have any idea of the gift that God has given you in this child?” he asked.

Sensing confusion and even concern in the parents, he explained his reaction: “Two years ago my three-year-old daughter, Sylvia, died with Down’s syndrome. We have four other children, so we know the blessing that kids can be. Yet the most precious gift we’ve ever received in our entire lives has been Sylvia. In her uninhibited expression of affection, she revealed to us the face of God as no other human being ever has. Did you know that several Native American tribes attribute divinity to Down’s children because in their utter simplicity they’re a transparent window into the Great Spirit? Treasure this child, for he will lead you into the heart of God.” (pp. 10-11)

“He didn’t seem to understand where he ended and God began.”

“This child…will lead you into the heart of God.”

My goodness.

Maybe there is a sense in which we should not try to see where other people end and God begins. Maybe we should look for the ways in which people in their humanness, in their brokenness, and in their frailty show us who and how God is.

Maybe there is something in this of which the church needs to be reminded. After all, Jesus said to those “sheep” in Matthew 25 whom he credited with feeding him when he was hungry, housing him when he was homeless, and visiting when he was sick, “Whenever you did one of these things to someone overlooked or ignored, that was me—you did it to me” (The Message). Maybe the church needs to be reminded that in being open to and loving and serving those who are wounded—and in a way that is all of us, isn’t it—we are being open to and loving and serving Christ himself.

It all raises some interesting and troubling questions: to what extent are many of our churches really being open to God and really serving Christ by serving “the least of these”? To what extent are we really being Christian?

In her book Broken We Kneel, Diana Butler Bass recounted the pilgrimage that led her to begin worshiping at the Church of the Epiphany in downtown Washington, D.C. She had become disillusioned at her previous church because of, among other things, the civil religion that was practiced there. She wrote,

Not long ago, I preached on a Sunday morning at Epiphany. I arrived early—before the end of the eight o’clock service, the service geared toward the homeless. As I walked into the church, a woman was talking loudly to her invisible friend; several men were sleeping on back pews; and some people were standing and singing a hymn. About two hundred people were at that Eucharist—they were an amazing cross section of humanity for a church! It was unruly, disorderly, and utterly hospitable. And holy. Indeed, a church member, who first came to the church when she was homeless, once commented to me, “Epiphany is the first church I ever visited that treated me like a human being. Nobody looked at me as if I was going to steal something.” I thought of Jesus’ words from the Gospel of Matthew (25:35), “I was a stranger and you welcomed me.” (pp. 121-122)

Doesn’t that sound more like church than much of what passes for church? Doesn’t that sound more like Christianity than much of what passes for Christianity? Do we not meet Christ in those who are broken? Must we not accept and love and serve and learn from them?

Now, I don’t mean to paint all brokenness with the same broad brush. Autism, Down’s syndrome, homelessness, and mental illness are all different realities. But brokenness is a common thread that runs through all of those realities.

We are all broken. Perhaps one of the reasons that so many of us Christians don’t feel any closer to God than we do is that we have not been open to the Christ who is present in the brokenness of others and thus we are not open to the Christ who is present in our own brokenness.

Where, really, do the broken and vulnerable and weak and hurting and poor end and God begin?

Where, really, do our loving hearts and helping hands end and God begin?

Surely God is present where brokenness and love meet.

Jesus Christ, Our Life

(An Easter sermon based on Colossians 3:1-4)

A few years ago, when our Minister of Worship Bob Walker returned from a mission trip to Russia with the Sons of Jubal (the Georgia Baptist Convention’s Men’s Choir), he told me that the Baptist worship services there always begin with an affirmation of belief in the resurrected Lord. I thought that sounded like a good idea. After all, the reason that we Christians worship on Sunday rather than on the Sabbath is that Jesus rose from the dead on Sunday. Sunday is the Lord’s Day; Sunday is Resurrection Day; each Sunday is a “little Easter.” And so for some time now we have voiced such an affirmation at the beginning of our worship services:

Pastor: Christ the Lord is risen!
People: Christ the Lord is risen indeed!

I continue to find that affirmation very meaningful.

On this Easter Sunday morning, though, I want to pose a question about that affirmation: So what? What difference does it really make? What difference does it really make to us that Jesus Christ is risen from the dead?

Such a thought has been on my mind all through this Holy Week. On Palm Sunday I wondered what difference it makes that Jesus Christ is our King. On Maundy Thursday and Good Friday I wondered what difference it makes that Jesus Christ is our Lamb and our Priest. At our Sunrise Service I wondered that difference it makes that Jesus Christ is our Lord. And now, at our final Holy Week service, I wonder what difference it makes that Jesus Christ is, as Paul put it in Colossians 3, our Life. After all, if all the things that we say are true about Jesus and us are in fact true, then it really should make quite a tremendous difference, shouldn’t it?

So what difference does it make that Jesus Christ is risen from the dead?

First, it makes a difference then.

That is, it makes a difference in the future. It makes a difference for eternity. “You have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life is revealed, then you also will be revealed with him in glory,” Paul said (vv. 3-4). One of the things that this statement means is that we do not yet see all that we will be. But one day, when the resurrected Christ appears and is made known to all, then we will also be known as we are meant to be known. In other words, the fact of Christ’s resurrection includes the fact of our resurrection. That will be glory for us. The family of Christ who make up the body of Christ will be all that God intends for us to be.

You know, some things are even one way or they are the other. Either this life is all there is or there is such a thing as eternity. Either our death is the end of our existence or it is an entry point into a life beyond death. Either there will be resurrection for those whose lives are hidden in Christ or there will not. Our Christian faith tells us that eternity is real, that there is life beyond life, and that there will be a resurrection. We base all of that on the resurrection of Jesus Christ. When it comes, that will be glory for us.

Such glory draws us toward it; it draws us forward. We are not all that we should be here and we never will be. This life will always be one of incompletion and imperfection; we will always have our struggles and our doubts and our fears. But the resurrection means that a better day is coming and that the full life that God intends for us that is presently hidden with Christ will one day burst onto the scene. His life guarantees our life. His appearance guarantees our appearance. What a cause for “Hallelujah!”

Second, it makes a difference now.

Since Jesus Christ has been raised from the dead, and since our life is hidden with Christ in God, and since when Christ who is our life is revealed we will also be revealed with him in glory, the resurrection of Jesus makes a tremendous difference now. Since all of those things are true, how can they not make a difference in our lives here and now? Listen to what Paul said: “So, if you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth” (vv. 1-2). Earlier in the letter Paul had said, “When you were buried with him in baptism, you were also raised with him through faith in the power of God, who raised him from the dead” (2:12). Our baptism symbolizes something that is literally true: we have died to self in Christ and we have been raised to new life in Christ—right here and right now! Our life is hidden with Christ in God for the future, but it is also hidden with him right here and right now.

It is an amazing thing: we can and should be so identified with Jesus Christ in his crucifixion and resurrection that we literally experience his kind of life becoming our kind of life. Because we have been raised there are things that we can rise above. We have been raised and so we can rise above the things that threaten to hold us down. Paul told the Colossian Christians that they could rise above the same things that we can rise above.

We rise above superstition and speculation. The Colossian Christians needed to rise above “philosophy and empty deceit, according to human tradition, according to the elemental spirits of the universe, and not according to Christ” (2:8). They ran the risk of being led astray by people who taught them that they could gain some kind of super knowledge that went beyond the teachings of and about Christ. Now, there are all kinds of knowledge available in this world. Wherever truth is found, God is in it, because God is the author of truth. But we need to avoid superstition and speculation in our faith. Everything we need to know about God we finally see in Jesus Christ, in whom “the whole fullness of deity dwells bodily” (2:9) and in whom we “come to fullness” (2:10) as well. When it comes to knowing what we need to know to be saved, we see it all in Jesus. In him we can rise above the need for anything else. When Jesus Christ is our life, we live secure in our relationship with him, not insecure in what we might or might not understand.

We rise above sin and guilt. “When you were dead in trespasses and the uncircumcision of your flesh, God made you alive together with him, when he forgave us all our trespasses, erasing the record that stood against us with its legal demands. He set this aside, nailing it to the cross,” Paul said (2:13-14). We are all aware of our sin and of our sense of guilt. But we can rise above them. God has nailed our sin to the cross with Jesus and in Christ God has taken away our sin and the necessity for our guilt. How much greater will our lives be if we don’t live them encumbered by guilt? We are forgiven! We can rise above it. When Jesus Christ is our life, we live under the power of forgiveness, not the power of guilt.

We rise above legalism and moralism. The Colossians were being told by some that they needed to observe certain laws and that they needed to follow certain rituals and that they needed to avoid certain things if they were going to be good Christians. To believe and live in those ways, while it may appear that it makes one a better Christian, actually has quite the opposite effect. It actually drains from us the power of the new life that we have in Jesus Christ. Granted, there are things that we will do and that we will not do when we are living the Christian life, but we will do or not do those things precisely because we are growing in our life in Christ, not because we are trying to prove or to show what good Christians we are. When Christ is our life, we live under grace, not under law.

We rise above what hurts us and what hurts others. In our passage, Paul told the Colossians to set their “minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth” (3:2). They could do that precisely because they had died and their lives were “hidden with Christ in God” (3:3). Then Paul went on to detail some of the things that they should “put to death”; they were “earthly” things (3:5). We need to put the same things aside and we can because we are alive in Christ. What kinds of things did Paul name? They were things that will harm us, such as fornication and impurity (v. 5). But they are also things that will hurt others—“anger, wrath, malice, slander, and abusive language” (v. 8).

Indeed, because we are in Christ, because Christ is our life, because our life is hidden in the life of the resurrected Christ, we can live in amazing ways that build up others and ourselves up. Listen to what Paul says:

As God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, cloth yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience. Bear with one another and, if anyone has a complaint against another, forgive each other; just as the Lord has forgiven you, so you must also forgive. Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in the one body. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly; teach and admonish one another in all wisdom; and with gratitude in your hearts sing psalms, hymns and spiritual songs to God. And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him. (3:12-17)

Doesn’t that sound like a marvelous way to live?

Well, that is the difference that the resurrection of Jesus Christ makes. Because he is risen from the dead, he is our life and in him we can live in ways that rise far above the kinds of ways that drag us down. We can live in ways that reflect his life. We can live in grace, in love, and in faith. We can live truly remarkable and amazing lives because they reflect the life of Jesus. They reflect the reality that we are based in eternity.

But do our lives really reflect those realities? Does the resurrection of Jesus really make that kind of difference in us and to us? It can. It really can. Will you let God do what he wants to do in your life? Will you, from this day forward, live toward the new life in Christ that is in fact yours?

So, what difference does the resurrection make in our lives? It makes all the difference in the world and in the world to come. Our lives are hidden with Christ in God; Christ is our life. So, whether we are here or whether we are there, we are in him. Frederick Buechner, writing in his book Peculiar Treasures about what Lazarus might have experienced when he was raised from the dead, said, “When Lazarus opened his eyes to see the figure of Jesus standing there in the daylight beside him, he couldn’t for the life of him tell which side he was on.” May we live so thoroughly in Christ here that it is that way for us.

Jesus Christ, Our Lord

(An Easter Sunrise Service sermon based on Acts 10:34-43)

You may have noticed that in my sermon titles for Holy Week I have been using the first person plural possessive pronoun “our” rather than the first person singular possessive pronoun “my.” So, for example, this particular message is entitled “Jesus Christ, Our Lord” rather than “Jesus Christ, My Lord.” While I didn’t think out the implications of that choice as I was getting ready for Holy Week, I have come to believe that the good Lord led me in an important direction. I say that because in my reading and praying this week the truth that what God did in Christ is more about us than it is about me keeps coming back to me.

For instance, an article in the New York Times about two new books on resurrection said that “both books emphasize that in classic Jewish and Christian teachings, resurrection refers to a collective resurrection of people and renewal of all creation at the end of time.” [Peter Steinfels, “Resurrection is Often Misunderstood by Christians and Jews,” New York Times, March 15, 2008] When you stop and think about it, when the New Testament talks about the future resurrection, it always talks about the resurrection of all believers and not of this individual here and that individual there. We will be raised together.

For another instance, there are these words from Barbara Bowe as she reflects on Paul’s teachings about the body of Christ: “Somehow, as Christians, we have often missed the main point—that Christian identity is a corporate identity and there is no such thing as ‘an individual Christian.’ Those words are an oxymoron. To be a Christian is to be a member of the body of Christ.” [Barbara E. Bowe, Biblical Foundations of Spirituality: Touching a Finger to the Flame (Lanham, Maryland: Rowman & Littlefield, 2003), p. 158] When we are saved we become a part of the body. To be Christian means to be in relationship with other Christians.

Easter reminds us that we are saved to be a part of the body and that we will all be raised as a body when Christ returns. Easter is first of all about Christ and it is second of all about all of us who are in Christ. But Easter is third of all about everybody in the whole wide world; it is about every person of every nation and of every race and of every language. That is so because the forgiveness of sins that is possible through the resurrected Christ is available to all who will believe.

When we gather to celebrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ and the salvation that we have found in him, it is natural that we would be glad for what we have found in him and for what he has done in us. I have already said that we need to move beyond thinking about what it all means to “me” and move to understanding what it all means to all of us who are in Christ. Now I want to challenge us to understand, to accept, and to celebrate what the resurrection means to absolutely everybody.

It all comes down to this fact: “Jesus is Lord of all” (v. 36).

In the context of Peter’s sermon in Acts, that meant that he was Lord not just of the Jews but also of the Gentiles. A major conflict in the earliest days of the church revolved around whether or not Gentiles could be accepted into the Christian faith without first accepting the marks of Judaism. Tied into the conflict were Jewish attitudes toward Gentiles; Gentiles were regarded as unclean and therefore as people with whom a Jew should not associate. The question was whether the Gentiles were going to be regarded as equals in the family of God that had been made possible through the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

We really should be thankful that the problem was resolved in the way it was—otherwise you and I, all of whom are Gentiles, might not be Christians! Again, though, what I am calling us to celebrate is the fact that Jesus really is Lord of all and that through his crucifixion and resurrection the way of salvation really has been thrown open to all who will believe. It is right that we celebrate what the resurrection means to us but we also need to celebrate what it means to everybody—and our celebration of what it means to everybody only deepens what it means to us. Christian joy, after all, is compounded and multiplied when others share in the blessing.

Simon Peter had been there when the crucified and resurrected Lord Jesus had said, just before he ascended to heaven, “Thus it is written, that the Messiah is to suffer and to rise from the dead on the third day, and that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem” (Luke 24:46-47). “All nations” means “all people in all nations,” but Peter and the other disciples probably heard “all Jewish people—all people who are like we are—in all nations.”

But then Peter had that remarkable dream in which three times he was commanded by God to kill and eat animals that Jews would not eat because those creatures were regarded as unclean. Each time Peter protested that he had never eaten anything unclean. And each time he heard the Lord’s voice say to him, “What God has made clean, you must not call profane.” On the heels of that three-fold dream came men who had been sent by a Roman centurion named Cornelius who had been told in a vision to send for Peter. Peter went, and having been taught by his dream, he preached the gospel to those Gentiles. In his sermon Peter made clear that the salvation made available through Christ was available to everyone—he really was Lord of all.

And he really is Lord of all.

Early on this Easter morning, as the light breaks into the darkness, I hope and pray that the light of God will break into our darkness like it did that of Peter. I hope that as we affirm that “Jesus is Lord” we will affirm that he is Lord of all. I hope that we will celebrate the fact that God’s family is a big family and that “everyone who believes in him”—red or yellow, black or white, American or Asian or African or European, rich or poor, male or female—“receives forgiveness of sins through his name” (v. 43). The Lord Jesus died not for a select few—he died for all who will believe. The Lord Jesus rose from the tomb not to benefit just a certain group or certain groups—he rose to give life to all who will believe.

So let us celebrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ. But let us not celebrate selfishly—let us celebrate generously and graciously. Let us celebrate the amazing grace and love of our Lord.

Jesus Christ, Our Priest

(A Good Friday sermon based on Hebrews 10:16-25)

The death of Jesus Christ on the cross changed and changes everything. Jesus, the book of Hebrews says, is our great high priest who has cleansed us of our sins through his sacrificial death and who has opened the way to God up for us. Because of what he did on Calvary we are forgiven. Because of what he did on the cross our sins have been blotted out.

That is reality for us. As our great priest Jesus has brought about our salvation. By his once for all sacrifice he has taken away our sins. Our salvation is all because of Jesus Christ.

Because of what our priest Jesus Christ has accomplished for us and in us, the author of Hebrews encourages us to do some things. We can do these things because of what Jesus has already done and we can do them with his help.

First, let us have faith. The full statement is, “Let us approach with a true heart in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water” (v. 22). We are to approach God with sincerity and with faith. Let us not understate the wonderful thing that happened because Jesus died for us: we have direct access to God and in Christ we can go to God knowing that he receives us. Here is a good opportunity for us to remember our baptism: the water of baptism reminds us that we have been cleansed of our sins by God in Christ.

Are we exercising our faith? Are we approaching God with bold faith, knowing that Christ has opened the way for us? Are we living in the glory of our baptism and in the power of our salvation?

Second, let us have hope. The full statement is, “Let us hold fast to the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful” (v. 23). Because of what Christ our priest done in dying on the cross we know for a fact that eternal life is ours and that God is going to work his purposes out in the end. We know that our salvation will culminate in life with and in God forever. We know all of that because we have the promises of God and God is faithful. His faithfulness is seen in the death of Jesus on the cross—that is how far God will go to bring his promises to fruition.

Do we waver in living in hope? Sometimes circumstances weigh us down, but in the strength of Christ our hope can remain sure and strong, not because of what we can do but because of what Christ has already done and continues to do in us.

Third, let us love. The full statement is, “Let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day approaching” (vv. 24-25). The word “provoke” has negative connotations but here it is used in a positive sense. We are to incite love and good deeds in one another. How do we do that? We do not do that by nagging or by cajoling or by berating. In the Christian life, love begets love. We show our love for one another by meeting together.

I would very much like for this Holy Week to be remembered as a time when we recommitted ourselves to gathering together for the worship of the Lord. We do that first and foremost for the Lord. But we also do so out of our love for one another. Think of how much more inspiring worship is when more of us are here. As you consider whether or not to attend worship (which frankly should not be a matter for consideration at all!) remember how your presence here inspires and helps your fellow church members. One healthy byproduct of our meeting together is the encouragement it offers to us all. How much more encouraging it is to worship with all of our brothers and sisters! Let us practice love toward one another and thereby encourage love in one another.

[Note: My attention was called to the faith, hope, and love triad in these verses by Hugh Montefiore, The Epistle to the Hebrews(San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1964), p. 174.]

Jesus Christ, Our Lamb

(A Maundy Thursday meditation based on Exodus 12:1-14; John 13:1-17; 31b-25)

[The image is Washing of the Feet by Duccio di Buoninsegna (1308-1311)]

The Hebrews celebrated the first Passover on the night before the exodus from Egypt. One component of the observance was the killing and eating of a lamb “without blemish.” The blood of the lamb was to be placed on the doorposts of each family’s house. When the death angel came to Egypt that night, the Lord said, “When I see the blood, I will pass over you, and no plague shall destroy you when I strike the land of Egypt” (Exodus 12:13). The New Testament interprets the death of Jesus as the ultimate Passover lamb sacrifice. So, for example, we read in 1 Peter,

You know that you were ransomed from the futile ways inherited from your ancestors, not with perishable things like silver or gold, but with the precious blood of Christ, like that of a lamb without defect or blemish. He was destined before the foundation of the world, but was revealed at the end of the ages for your sake. (1:18-20)

Jesus was, as John the Baptizer put it, “the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.”

Thursday night of Holy Week, like the night of the first Passover, is a night on the precipice. On that night in Egypt over 3000 years ago, deliverance was to come tomorrow. It was a night of expectation, of excitement, of tension, and of apprehension. It was a night of incompletion—deliverance was not yet [I was pointed in this direction by Thomas W. Mann, The Book of the Torah: The Narrative Integrity of the Pentateuch (Atlanta: John Knox, 1988), p. 91]. The Hebrews were living in the already and in the not yet; nine plagues had come and one was yet to come and then would come the march out of Egypt, which they anticipated, and the victory at the sea, which they did not see coming. They ate the lamb, waiting for and wondering about what God was about to do.

On that Thursday night in Jerusalem over 2000 years ago, betrayal and arrest were to come later tonight and crucifixion was to come tomorrow. It was a night of expectation, of wonder, of anxiety, of apprehension, and of confusion. The disciples were living in the already and in the not yet; they had spent much time with Jesus and they had heard him speak repeatedly of what was to come for him, but still they did not understand it or expect it. They ate the bread and drank the wine, waiting for and wondering about what God was about to do.

On this Thursday night in 2008 in Augusta, Georgia, we find ourselves living on the precipice as we do on each Maundy Thursday and as we really do all of the time. We are living in the already and the not yet. Like all Christians who have shared in the Lord’s Supper over the past two centuries, we celebrate it on the other side of the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus. But also like all those Christians, we do so with much yet to experience. We do so with unfulfilled hope and with incomplete faith and with inadequate love. And we find ourselves confronted again with Jesus Christ, the Lamb of God.

Those Passover lambs did not volunteer for duty; they were drafted. In contrast, and most remarkably, Jesus “humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross” (Philippians 2:8). Jesus gave himself up to be the lamb whose death would take away our sins.

In John’s narrative, Jesus performed an act that night that foreshadowed the kind of Messiah he was—he voluntarily condescended to wash his disciples’ feet. When he came to Simon Peter, that outspoken disciple expressed wonderment (“Lord, are you going to wash my feet?”) and then denial (“You will never wash my feet”). I have always assumed that Peter was expressing some humility here, as in “You are too good to wash the feet of a sinner such as I.” But Barbara Bowe has given me a different perspective.

(Jesus’) action is meant to show us that the meaning of Jesus’ life and death is to call us to be a human community where we are all foot washers.
No wonder Peter objects! This example of Jesus called Peter, as it calls each of us, to a radical conversion wherein we relinquish status and power (as Jesus did) in love and embrace a posture of service to one another. [Barbara E. Bowe, Biblical Foundations of Spirituality (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2003), p. 148]

Jesus taught his original disciples and us of the need to give ourselves up, to die to self, and to follow him. But, human nature being what it is, how easy it would be for us to say something like, “As the Lamb of God, Jesus died on the cross for our sins. That has no practical application to the way I’m to live.” The washing of the feet reveals that nothing could be farther from the truth. Jesus Christ, the Lamb of God, washed his disciples’ feet and then he told them and us that we are supposed to do the same thing. We do it to show our love for one another. We do it in obedience to his command. We do it in remembrance of him. Bowe continued,

Just as the Synoptic institution narratives include a command by Jesus to “do this in memory of me”…, so in John Jesus commanded his disciples to repeat the action he performed: “So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you” (Jn 13:14-15). [Bowe, p. 148]

So we partake of the Lord’s Supper, which Jesus instituted on that first Maundy Thursday, in remembrance of him. We also wash one another’s feet—we also serve and love and give ourselves up for one another—in remembrance of him. We partake of his broken body and his shed blood in order to remind ourselves of what he has done for us, but in partaking of it we are also reminded of what he calls us to do for him and for each other. Therein lies the path to Christian sacrifice and service that leads to Christian victory.

In the book of Revelation, John reported a fascinating vision of the resurrected Lord. He said that he saw “a Lamb standing as if it had been slaughtered” (5:6). Through this powerful imagery John said that it was the slaughtered Lamb who was also the resurrected Lamb. Crucifixion precedes resurrection. Death precedes life. Sacrifice precedes victory. It is that way for Christ. It is also that way for Christ’s followers.

So as we remember his death, let us also remember our call.

He is our Lamb.

We are his sheep.