The Final Word

This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Marshall, Texas on Sunday November 4, 2012, the 31st Sunday in Ordinary Time.

Audio for "The Final Word" was corrupted so will not be available. Sorry about that friends.

Isaiah 25:6-9

Psalm 24

Revelation 21:1-6a

John 11:32-44

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer.  Amen

Hurricane Sandy was born on October 22^nd. It was birthed in the warm waters of the Caribbean where it quickly amplified from low pressure system to tropical depression to tropical storm. Two days later it became a hurricane as it plowed into Jamaica. We don’t hear much about the tropical days of Sandy anymore. In the southern parts of the continent Sandy took 70 lives in Jamaica, Cuba, Haiti, the Dominican Republic, the Bahamas, and Bermuda. There are still 21 Haitians missing too.[1]

From there, I don’t have to tell you much about the path of the storm. It pretty much paralleled the Atlantic coast until taking a sharp left into southern New Jersey. Every bit of Sandy brought its share of terror to the East Coast just before Halloween. Only a category one Hurricane, Sandy’s sheer size was perhaps the most devastating part of what is now called a Super Storm. In total, 24 states bore Sandy’s wrath. From Florida to Maine and west to Wisconsin, Sandy’s trod across our country. By the time the storm left the US and entered Canada, an additional 110 people were killed in the path and the wrath of the storm.

Among those 110 souls, some were related to the storm’s aftermath. Some were injured and killed by fire and electrocution that followed.

One especially devastated community, the Belle Harbor neighborhood in Queens, New York City faced its third major travesty of the century. This neighborhood is the home of many of New York’s Bravest, the Fire Department of New York. Many firefighters from this neighborhood perished in the World Trade Center collapse in 2001. This is also the site of the crash of American Airlines flight 587 on November 12, 2001. This brought the loss of all 260 aboard and five more on the ground. Just two months after 9/11, this community was devastated again. Eleven years later, it faced its third in Sandy.

It’s not difficult to add up the losses of life for a mathematician. On an old time adding machine counting the dead is as easy as pulling a crank. On a spreadsheet, it’s as easy as a little data entry and setting the SUM command properly. I don’t want to count. I don’t want to know. Numbers don’t lie, but numbers don’t bleed, and there’s too much blood right now. Terror, error,[2] tempest; there’s too much blood and not enough time to reflect on the lives of the saints lost in any of these tragedies.

When we think of “the saints,” we think about people like these people, those who are among the “Church Triumphant.” That’s true as far as it goes, but there’s more.

The good news is that Jesus knows our tragedies. He knows our tragedies because he has shared our tragedies. The eleventh chapter of John is a glorious story. Mary and Martha sent a messenger to Jesus saying, “Lord, the one you love is sick.” Jesus sends the messenger back with a word, “This sickness will not end in death.” Technically speaking, this is true. Jesus continues, “No, it is for God’s glory so that God’s Son may be glorified through it.” So he decides they would spend a couple extra days where they were before heading to Bethany.

You know what happens; Jesus tells the disciples that Lazarus sleeps. They think that’s a good thing because he needs his rest. I imagine the head-slap or face-palm when Jesus tells them, “No, Lazarus is dead.”

They reach Bethany where Mary meets them in mourning. Jesus was moved and troubled by what he saw. He saw the souls Lazarus touched walking with Mary. He wept along side her.

Alongside Mary, Jesus wept.

Alongside all who were there, Jesus wept.

Jesus commands the men to move the stone from in front of the tomb. Martha at the tomb warns that there will be a bad odor since their brother is four days dead. Jesus reminds them that if they believe they will see the glory of God. Calling to the Father, he declares what comes next will happen so that all those with ears to hear will know that the Father called the Son to this place and time.

With that, Lazarus comes from the grave and Jesus tells the people to take off his grave clothes and let him go.

Hear the promises of the Lord heard from the lips of the prophet Isaiah:

Then the Lord GOD will wipe away the tears from all faces,

and the disgrace of his people he will take away from all the earth,

for the LORD has spoken.

It will be said on that day,

Lo, this is our God; we have waited for him, so that he might save us.

This is the LORD for whom we have waited;

let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation.

This is what we are promised in the words of John the Revelator. 

And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying,

“See, the home of God is among mortals.

He will dwell with them as their God;

they will be his peoples,

and God himself will be with them;

he will wipe every tear from their eyes.

Death will be no more;

mourning and crying and pain will be no more,

for the first things have passed away.”

And the one who was seated on the throne said, “See, I am making all things new.”

These foresights were made by the Spirit through the lips of the prophets. We hear the Lord will wipe the tears from his disgraced people. We hear that the Lord will come so that we may rejoice and be glad in his salvation. In John’s gospel, we receive this example of how God has worked in the lives of the people. Christ lives through the Word. Christ is the living Word. Christ lives in the lives of the Saints. Christ lives in those who have passed, and those who will come in the future.

So what is the final word? The final word is that we are all reconciled through Christ to God. Through Christ, families are reconciled. Through Jesus, people are protected from a society that would allow them to be victims. Through the power of the Father, announced by the voice of Son, the Lord brings life where there was death. Through Jesus, our grave clothes are removed and more. We are loosed from the ties that bind, from death that wraps us in its mitts. We see this through the family of Lazarus, Martha, and Mary.

So what’s the final word? The final word is that the fully divine Lord our God, the Lord of lords, knew what was needed. He knew what he needed to do so that the people would know the Father hears the Son. This work was so that the people would see the glory of God. The final word is shared so that they would know it was the Father who sent the Son. This is the Lord’s cry at the tomb.

The final word is that the fully human God incarnate, Immanuel, God with us, mourned the loss of his friend’s life. Christ’s final word is that since he was as we are, he knows our pain, our loss, and our disappointment. He knows our trouble not because he sees it from afar, but because he shares it alongside us. Christ’s final word is that the fully human Jesus of Nazareth weeps in the face of the pain and sorrow of the human condition—a condition he shares. A condition he restores to its proper place. We see this as Jesus wept. We see this as Lazarus rises from the tomb.

So what’s the final word? Christ’s final word is that he is concerned with us every day. Christ’s final word is that neither the little deaths we face everyday nor the death from which both Lazarus and our Lord experienced and arose will defeat him. Christ’s final word is not just that he removes our death clothes, but he unbinds us from our shrouds continuously. As Jesus unbinds Lazarus, he shows us how he will free us.

Earlier I said that when we think of “the saints” we think about those who are among the Church Triumphant. I also said that’s true as far as it goes. As we celebrate All Saints’ Day, not only do we celebrate the lives of the saints of this congregation who have gone to meet Jesus, we celebrate all of the saints, living and dead; yes, living and dead.

In our tradition, we know that we have sinned. At the same time we believe that by grace through faith we have been made saints. Like I have said before, this is one of the “now and not yet” moments of our faith. We are saints who still sin. There’s something that can only be reconciled by the Lord.

Jesus shares the joy of relationship with the Father with us. Christ’s final word is that life eternal begins now. It neither ends nor begins with our passing into the unearthly communion of the saints.

God’s final word is that the Christ is the Alpha and the Omega. God is the first word of the good creation and the last word reconciling the fallen creation. God’s final word is that all this is comes from the Father and the Son through the Holy Spirit.

We live in a world with great pain, yes we do. But, we also live in a world where the Lord is our God and Jesus is the Christ. Celebrating All Saints’ Day, we are called to mourn those who have passed. As the saints, we are called to celebrate the joy of what we all share in, by and through the Lord our God.

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[1] Hurricane Sandy, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hurricane_Sandy, retrieved November 3, 2012.

[2] The National Transportation Safety Board attributed the disaster to the first officer's overuse of rudder controls in response to wake turbulence released by a Japan Airlines Boeing 747-400. from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/American_Airlines_Flight_587, retrieved November 3, 2012.

Homily for Joe McDonald

The Service of Witness to the Resurrection was held for Mr. Joe McDonald. Mr. McDonald, a Deacon of the Church, passed peacefully in his sleep on October 21, 2011 at his home in Leesburg, Florida.

Our Old Testament reading comes from the book of Deuteronomy 33:27

The eternal God is your dwelling place,

and underneath are the everlasting arms.

Our Gospel reading comes from the Gospel of John 11:25–26

I am the resurrection and the life, says the Lord.

Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live,

and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen.

When I asked a member of the congregation about Joe, he said that even in his mid-70’s, Joe was a young man. The people of Marshall remember seeing Joe leaving the city limits in 2004 behind the wheel of his black Ford Mustang convertible. I don’t know how Joe would have responded if he had heard someone ask “What’s a 78 year old man doing driving a Mustang convertible?” But from the stories I have heard over the past couple of weeks, I imagine he would have said something like, “Doing quite nicely, thank you.”

Rest assured, when it came time to retire that black Mustang, Joe got something more sensible, his next Mustang had a manual transmission. (What, that’s not more sensible?) When his joints began to betray him, he traded that one for a sporty Cadillac with an automatic. Born the youngest boy of a family of five, only his sister Judy following Joe in the birth order, his sense of humor was developed early in this family of pranksters. That’s the source of the joy of life that appreciated fast cars.

Please don’t allow my words to let you think that Joe is all play and no work, this is not my intent. Upon graduating from high school here in Marshall, Joe enlisted in the Navy at the age of seventeen. He served as a medical corpsman in the Pacific theater during those last bloody months of World War II through VJ Day and beyond. This honed his sense of duty, his sense of honor, his sense of right and wrong and put those things to work in life. I guess what I’m saying is that Joe played hard, but only after he worked hard.

Chatting with Joe’s sons, they instilled this in me with several sayings Joe shared with them. He made sure his children knew that it “doesn’t matter what you do, as long as you do it to the best of your ability.” To that end, Joe shared and instilled a sense of right and wrong and a solid work ethic in his children. He taught them that by hard work and perseverance all things are possible.

Joe worked hard, and he shared the joys of life with family and friends. As his children transitioned from youth to adults so too did his relationship with them. Later, it included sharing some Neely’s Brown Pigs and a taste of grain and grape. As his children became adults Joe cultivated an adult relationship with them, though never afraid to be the father when the situation arose. This love and devotion was never more demonstrated than with his wife, the former Dolores Goforth of Karnack, Texas.

Joe loved his wife and loved his life. Whether parasailing in Mexico or cruising the St. John’s River, or traveling extensively with Dee after retirement, Joe loved life and shared it with all around him, which brings me to one more story.

Those of you who entered on the North side of the building noticed three rugged crosses on the lawn. Joe built those for the church. It was a glory to God and a surprise to everyone else. These crosses aren’t built out of flimsy plywood either; they are made to withstand the elements of an East Texas springtime. They were built to stand from Ash Wednesday to Pentecost, stand in the name of our crucified Lord.

I find it wonderfully and gloriously telling that Joe didn’t build one cross, he built three. Here in this sanctuary you will see one cross, the cross of our Lord, and this is appropriate for the sanctuary. When Joe built the crosses he did more. Surely, Joe built the cross which represents the one that bore Christ on Golgotha, he also built the crosses which held the men crucified alongside Jesus.

Death is an enemy. Its specter is not the shadow God intended to have following us all of the days of our lives. Joe instead lived, and lived well. He lived as Deuteronomy demands, with the eternal God as his dwelling place, he lived underneath the everlasting arms of the Lord. He lived knowing and celebrating the Lord who said, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.”

He showed this to us and continues to show this to us in the crosses he built. Joe’s hands and Joe’s life testify that Christ’s victory over death comes to life upon the empty cross. Joe testifies that this promise is for all of us by building not one but three crosses. He built not just the cross of Christ, but the crosses we all carry everyday. He testifies to the resurrection and the promise of new life for all in Christ.

Joe shared his faith and values with everyone who he met. He shared his faith and values with every relationship. He continues to share his faith and values with the testimony of his hands and his tools, his children and their children. He shared these things with the world, but he shared nothing with strangers because he had never met a stranger. Steven and David told me that Joe would say “I may have been right, I may have been wrong, but I am not in doubt.” Relying on the promises of things unseen, this sounds like the textbook definition of faith. It sounds like a strong faith. It sounds like Joe’s faith. Thanks be to God.

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Joe B. McDonald passed away peacefully in his sleep the night of October 21, 2011, at the age of 85 at his home in Leesburg, Florida. Born in Longview, Texas on February 24, 1926, to the late Charles Lee McDonald and Grace Sammons McDonald, Joe graduated from Marshall Senior High School, where he played center on a Maverick football team that included future NFL Hall of Famer Y. A. Tittle.

After his post high school stint in the Navy, Joe attended Southwestern Louisiana Institute, now the University of Louisiana at Lafayette. With the outbreak of the Korean War, Joe left college to join the U.S. Air Force where he served as a 2^nd Lieutenant. Joe returned to Marshall and worked for Thiokol at Longhorn Army Ammunition Plant in Karnack, Texas.

Joe married Dolores (Dee) Goforth on November 27, 1954 in Karnack, Texas. Joe and Dolores had three children, Stephen, Melissa and David. Joe served in various capacities at Thiokol, eventually becoming a safety engineer. He became Director of Safety at Thiokol in the late sixties and worked on projects diverse as the Saturn V rocket motor and the Pershing missile, as well as on the Gemini and Apollo rocket programs. In 1970 Joe accepted a position with Brunswick Corporation to be the Director of Safety at their Marion and Sugar Grove, Virginia plants, which manufactured both consumer and defense products. Subsequently he was transferred to Chicago, Illinois, where he became the Director for Safety for Brunswick and oversaw operations for more than thirty facilities located across the United States.

Joe returned to Thiokol in 1981. One of the highlights of his career came when he was chosen to participate in the elimination of the Pershing Missiles which he had helped build under the Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces Treaty (the INF Treaty) with the Soviet Union.

Joe lost his beloved wife Dolores to colon cancer in 1993. Joe continued to travel, often with his brother Jack and sister Judy and daughter Melissa. Joe moved to Leesburg, Florida in 2004 to be closer to his children and grandchildren.

Joe is survived by his sister Judy of LaGrange; son Steve and his wife, Cathy, and their son, Zachary of Orlando, Florida; daughter Melissa of Savannah, Georgia; son David and his wife Nancy and their children, Brandon, Bronwen, and Spenser of Tangerine, Florida and all the friends he made wherever he traveled.

Sorrow of Death--Joy of New Life

This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Marshall, Texas on Sunday April 10, 2011, the 5th Sunday in Lent.

Sorrow of Death--Joy of New Life (MP3)

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Ezekiel 37:1-14

Psalm 130

Romans 8:6-11

John 11:1-45

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer.  Amen

During this Lenten journey, several members of the congregation have been enjoying a study called “Fearless: Imagine Your Life Without Fear” by Max Lucado.[i] The lesson from last Tuesday was about the fear of our mortal demise. It’s easy to understand why this is such a tremendous fear in our lives. In death we lose people we love and care for. Often in death things are left undone. In death we lose all control. From our very human point of view we lose all we know and that’s very scary.

Lucado shares what some philosophers say about death.[ii] Aristotle calls death “the end of everything.” Jean-Paul Sartre teaches death “removes all meaning from life.” American agnostic Robert Green Ingersoll calls life the “narrow vale between the cold and barren peaks of two eternities.” François Rabelais made his final words “I am going to the great Perhaps.” Shakespeare gets pessimistic in “Hamlet” dreading “something after death, the undiscover’d country from whose bourn no traveler returns.”

Honestly, who wants to live where this is the last word on death? Going off to the “great perhaps” would surely take meaning not just from death but as Sartre put it from life too. Individually these points of view are utterly depressing. Together, they make life seem completely futile.

The story of Martha, Mary, and Lazarus is not a story like this. The story of Martha, Mary, and Lazarus gives us what it means to mourn and what it means to rejoice in the life of Christ.

Before we get started into the meat of this passage, I would like to serve an appetizer. There are some who say “If your faith is strong enough, there is no reason to mourn. If your faith is strong enough you will know that the dead have gone to a better place. If your faith is strong enough you will rejoice that the dead have gone to be with the Lord.” But I am not one of those people. I would not say that.

Rather, I would remind you of what Jesus said in Matthew 5:4, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” Not only does Jesus say that mourning is normal, he blesses those who do mourn.

So when Mary and Martha sent the message to the Lord that his friend and their brother Lazarus was ill, they prayed that Jesus would come immediately. They prayed that the Lord would come and heal their brother.

Based on the first eleven chapters of John’s gospel, this wouldn’t be out of line. The first part of John’s gospel presents many signs of the Lord’s divinity. The signs in John’s gospel begin with the wedding in Cana where, even though it was not his time, Jesus made the finest wine. Two weeks ago we heard the story of the Samaritan woman at the well whose life was laid open like a book. Last week we heard the story of the man who was born blind whose eyes were opened. Today Jesus reveals that Lazarus’ “sickness will not end in death. No, [this sickness] is for God’s glory so that God’s Son may be glorified through it.”[iii]

Now this is where it gets sloppy. Scripture plainly tells us that Lazarus, Mary, and Martha love Jesus. It also says Jesus loves them. Yet he stayed where he was. In John 11:18 we read that it’s less than two miles from Jerusalem to Bethany, so it wasn’t very far at all. Jesus and the gang could have made it in less than an hour stopping to smell the roses along the way, but he didn’t. Jesus did not go immediately. Jesus stayed where he was.

Imagine if you will. A loved one is sick, deathly ill, and the only one who can heal, the only one who can bring peace, the only one who can give new life, isn’t coming. You’ve sent for him. It isn’t a long drive to the house or the hospital. He knows the way. He could be there in a moment. You’ve even sent a text.

The one you love is sick and just getting sicker, and the one who can save him is no where to be seen. Yes, you got the message; this sickness will not end in death. Yes, you got the message; this sickness is for God’s glory so that God’s Son may be glorified through it. But even when that word comes from the Lord, the only person you have confidence in; the only thing you really seem to know for sure is that one you love is dying.

Yes, we have confidence in the Lord. Yes we know that the Lord will make everything right. Yes we have confidence in the Lord. And sometimes we say these things because if we say them often enough we might begin to believe them ourselves.

It’s as the father of the spirit possessed boy cried out, “I believe; help my unbelief!”[iv]

Well, the disciples aren’t too upset that Jesus hasn’t hit the road. After all, the last time they were in Judea Jesus was nearly killed by the Scribes and Pharisees. This is why Thomas puts in his two-cents saying, “Let’s go too—and die with Jesus.”[v] Gee, thanks Thomas. You’re so cheery Aristotle and Shakespeare are now depressed.

Finally, two days later, four days after the death of Lazarus, Jesus makes his way toward Bethany. By this time many of the Jews had come to console Mary and Martha on the death of Lazarus.

A note about the Gospel of John: When it says “The Jews” in John’s gospel what it means is “The leaders of the Jews.” It’s a code. Generally speaking it’s like in Tehran and Baghdad where the crowds cry “Death to America” while listening to American pop music. They don’t want to kill Justin Bieber and Beyoncé; they want to kill our government’s leaders.

So it could well be that some of the Jews with Mary and Martha were some of the same leaders who tried to kill Jesus the last time he was in Judea. I don’t wonder if some of the “mourners” were slinging mud at the name of the Lord while “comforting” the sisters. “Oh, where could he be?” and “Couldn’t he have come in time?” followed by the sarcastic rendering of “Oh, what a friend we have in Jesus.”

I need to share another cultural note that is important to this passage, this one about burial practices in the first century: In Hebrew society four days dead meant dead-dead.  There was no mistaking that he was put in the tomb while in a coma to awaken later. Lazarus was in the tomb four days dead and there was a bad odor.

So two days later, four days after the death of Lazarus, when he was dead-dead, Jesus is on his way. While he is on the road, word makes it back that Jesus is coming. Martha leaps up to meet him while Mary stayed at home.

“Lord,” she cries, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” Racked with grief, mourning the loss of her brother, I can’t imagine her voice without anger. “Lord, if you had been here my brother would not have died.” Anger is natural. Anger is normal. Peace and understanding in this moment are not signs of strong well adjusted faith. They are signs of overmedication; too much Lexapro and too much Valium.

Her next sentence is the one that takes her anger and adds faith with a plaintive plea, “But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask.” She knows, despite her sorrow, despite her anger, she knows that Jesus is the Lord, the long awaited Messiah.  She knows that her brother will rise again as Jesus promises; she just assumed that it would happen at the resurrection. She doesn’t quite understand what Jesus was really saying, not yet.

Jesus tells her “I am the resurrection and the life.” Martha praises him. Jesus tells her “He who believes in me will live, even though he dies.” Martha praises him. Jesus tells her “whoever lives and believes in me will never die.” Martha praises him. In her sorrow and her grief, she knows and she believes Jesus is the Christ, the Messiah, the Son of God, the one who has come into the world, but she is overwhelmed.

Martha then leaves and goes home. I can only begin to imagine what she was thinking and feeling at this moment. She has the sorrow of death and the promise of new life racing through her head like mice in a maze.

She goes to tell Mary “The teacher is here and he is asking for you.” Martha is shutting down; she’s deflecting attention away from herself and onto her sister.  When she gets the news Mary leaps seeking her Lord. The Jewish leaders, the fellow mourners thought she was on her way to the tomb to wail like a shill there. As is so common in their dealings with Jesus, they were mistaken.

Mary cries to the Messiah, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” Her sorrow was deep. She wept and all around her wept also. Her sorrow was so powerful that the Spirit of the Lord Jesus was deeply moved and he was troubled.

Jesus wept.

Is there a more emotional sentence in scripture? Nothing greater has ever been said in fewer words: Jesus wept. Jesus shares our human pain. Jesus mourns with us. In this single moment, the fully-human fully-divine Lord has never been more human. Jesus wept.

After a brief interlude where the Jewish leaders both praise the grief of the Rabbi and doubt his dedication to his friends, Jesus begins to do something. Jesus tells them to remove the stone. Yes, there are some objections since according to the New International Version there was a bad odor. Times like this I prefer the New Revised Standard Version’s rendering that says there was a stench. Stench is a much better word for a four day dead-dead Lazarus.

Jesus tells Martha and Mary specifically, and all who were there in general “Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?” Then Jesus gives glory to God for what was about to happen. He tells the Father and all who are eavesdropping on their conversation that what he does he does for their benefit so that they may believe that he was sent by God.

Then he says in a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out” and he does.

Now imagine the joy. Imagine the surprise, imagine the shock! Lazarus was dead. He was four days dead. He was dead-dead. First there was a stench and now he’s alive. Lazarus is well. Jesus tells everyone to remove the bands of cloth, the remnants of death, they aren’t appropriate anymore. There is joy in Judea. There is joy in Bethany. The family of Lazarus is complete again. Lazarus lives. The sorrow of death is replaced by the joy of new life; new life that comes from the voice of Jesus Christ.

Our reading ends that because of this, many “put their faith in Jesus.”

I want us to know one thing from our reading; one very special thing. Jesus didn’t take away the sorrow of death. Jesus doesn’t take away our mourning. Our lives will continue to be filled with sorrow that brings mourning. In truth, Jesus promises those who do mourn will be comforted. What Jesus brings is new life. Our mourning is comforted because our comfort lies in new life in Jesus Christ.

Jesus weeps with us. Jesus dies for us. Jesus returns for us.

Philosophies, culture, and such teach us that life is fleeting. Media teaches us that plastic surgery and Botox will keep us young forever, or at least looking young. We see that medicine has extended our life by years. We have learned that life is something to be held onto with a vice-like grip.

Jesus teaches us that this life is fleeting, and its loss brings sorrow. Beyond teaching this he promises and he shows us that eternal life has been given to us through his hands. Jesus puts his Spirit in us. His pierced hands bring us new life, a life the old dry bones of Ezekiel know well.

As Ezekiel prophesies, in the joy of new life “you will know that I the Lord have spoken, and I have done it.” In this new life and in the joy of new life in Christ we know that Jesus is Lord. The Lord has spoken.

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[i] Lucado, Max, “Fearless: Imagine Your Life Without Fear.” Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson Publishers, 2009.

[ii] Ibid page 117. More detailed source information on page 220.

[iii] John 11:4b New International Version (NIV)

[iv] Mark 9:24b New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)

[v] John 11:16 New Living Translation (NLT)

Jesus Weeps

This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Berryville, Arkansas on Sunday November 1, 2009, All Saints' Day.

Isaiah 25:6-9
Psalm 24
Revelation 21:1-6a
John 11:32-44

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen

Last week, our gospel reading was the glorious story of Blind Bartimaeus, a man who was shunned by the people because of his blindness. Bartimaeus was a beggar on the road between Jericho and Jerusalem. He made a living being a nuisance to travelers. He lived a dirty life in a dangerous place on the margins of society.

Jesus called him, beckoned Bartimaeus to come to him. Leaving his old life behind with his cloak, Bartimaeus sprang up and came to Jesus. Bartimaeus receives two gifts, the first is his sight. The second gift he receives is the unconditional presence of the Lord. Bartimaeus is now and forever in the presence of the Lord. Every time we tell this story it is true. Every time we tell this story Bartimaeus is with Jesus. Every time we tell this story it is as true in the eternal sense, now as much as then, Bartimaeus is with Jesus.

This is an example of what we are promised in the words of the prophet. Isaiah prophesies, Isaiah promises:

Then the Lord GOD will wipe away the tears from all faces,
and the disgrace of his people he will take away from all the earth,
for the LORD has spoken.
It will be said on that day,
Lo, this is our God; we have waited for him, so that he might save us.
This is the LORD for whom we have waited;
let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation.

This is an example of what we are promised in the words of John the Revelator.

And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying,

“See, the home of God is among mortals.
He will dwell with them as their God;
they will be his peoples,
and God himself will be with them;
he will wipe every tear from their eyes.
Death will be no more;
mourning and crying and pain will be no more,
for the first things have passed away.”

And the one who was seated on the throne said, “See, I am making all things new.”

These promises are wonderful, and they are glorious. They are lived by Bartimaeus who lives in the words of Isaiah, walking beside Jesus, his tears wiped from his face. His disgrace nothing but a distant memory the moment that Jesus gives him the two greatest gifts he can receive, sight in his eyes and God’s own presence in his life now and forever.

The sorrow and mourning Bartimaeus knew were wiped from his eyes with the coming promise of the Revelation that the first things have passed away. It is the next thing, life in the presence of the Lord that is now his by the grace of Christ Jesus.

The lesson of Bartimaeus is revealed in the promises made in prophecy. They remind us that God is in this world, the Lord is with us.

We know, we have faith, it has been revealed that there will be no more death, or mourning or crying or pain. The entire old order of things has passed away. The things that cause us to feel grief and pain released like dust in the wind.

This is where we can run into some trouble. It’s not that this isn’t true, it is. But just as it is true that the victory of Christ was won on the cross through his blood; there is still pain and grief and sorrow in this world.

Eugene Peterson wrote this for the introduction to Michael Card’s book, “A Sacred Sorrow, Reaching Out to God in the Lost Language of Lament.”

A number of years ago my mother died in Montana. My brother and sister, our spouses and children, gathered and prepared for the service of worship in which we would place our grief for her death and gratitude for her life before God. As the first-born I was appointed to conduct the funeral…I began reading Scriptures—several psalms, Isaiah’s strong words of comfort, Jesus’ parting words to His disciples, Paul’s archi-tec-tonic Romans 8, John’s final vision of heaven. I had done this scores of times over many years and have always loved doing it, saying again these powerful, honest words that give such enormous dignity to death and our tears. While reading, the air now thin between time and eternity, without warning lament surged within me. I tried to keep my composure and then just let it go…

The benediction pronounced, I ducked quickly into a small room just off the chancel. I didn’t want to see or talk to anyone. My twenty-two-year-old daughter slipped in beside me. We sat together, quiet and weeping our own “sacred sorrow.” And then a man I’d never seen before entered and sat down. He put his arm across my shoulder and spoke some preacherish clichés in a preacherish tone. Then, mercifully, he left. I said to my daughter, “Karen, I hope I’ve never done that to anybody.” She said, “Oh, Daddy, I don’t think you have ever done that.” I hope not.[1]

When we use these words of assurance to remember the promises of God that’s one thing, but when we use them as magic words to calm someone down so our pain is relieved, well, that’s the worst thing we can do.

There is an ancient theological concept that was greatly influenced by an even more ancient philosophical concept known as apatheia; it’s the root of our word apathy. The concept of apatheia allows us to define “God as one whose perfection leaves God unaffected by the contingencies and circumstances of the created order.”[2] John Calvin used this principle as a way to explain that the emotions attributed to God like the ones in this passage from John are the just way Scripture expresses what is truly incomprehensible in a way we can begin to understand.

To paraphrase this using the slang of a few years back: Divine emotion? It’s a God thing, you wouldn’t understand.

As for me, I don’t really understand that concept as it pertains to the Lord, and particularly not as it pertains to the fully human and fully divine Jesus of Nazareth. We read that because of the death of his dear friend Lazarus, Jesus is deeply disturbed in spirit. We read that Jesus is deeply moved. We read later again that Jesus is deeply disturbed. The Jews could even see that Jesus deeply loved Lazarus.

We read that Jesus began to weep.[3] Honestly though, I prefer the traditional translation of this verse, Jesus wept. Jesus was so overwhelmed that he wept at the loss of his friend. Jesus knew what he would do, and he knew what he would do for the glory of God for the sake of the crowd standing there; so that they may believe that it was the Father who sent the Son. Still, Jesus wept.

Jesus knew the pain. Jesus knew the grief. Jesus knew the sorrow. Jesus was overwhelmed.

Jesus knew the prophecy of Isaiah. Jesus knew the tears of the mourners would be wiped away. Jesus knew the extravagant grace and peace which comes from the glory seat of the Lord God Almighty would be known by his work.

Jesus knew the glory of the new heaven and the new earth; the glory made possible by the passing of the first heaven and the first earth. Jesus knew the glory of the holy city, the new Jerusalem. Jesus knew these things because he is the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. Jesus knew all of this and more than we could ever hope or imagine.

And Jesus wept.

Today as we celebrate All Saints’ Day, we celebrate those who have gone before us in the faith. Today we celebrate the life of Elizabeth Beck who played organ and provided music for worship for this part of the Body of Christ. We celebrate the life of Leah Chapman who was taken from this world all too soon. We celebrate the life of Raphael Mabry, and we celebrate the life of my mother Mary Margaret. We celebrate the lives of all of those who have preceded us onto the glory of God. As we celebrate their lives, and the richness that fills our lives because of them, we too mourn. We shed a tear as we smile. We weep.

We are the recipients, the heirs of these glorious promises; promises of peace, promises of grace. We have a confidence in the prophecies and we have confidence in Christ. By Christ, the kingdom of God is here; the kingdom of God is now. Still, we know by the realities of sin and life that the kingdom is not yet fully here, it is not yet. There is sorrow and there is mourning. In this not yet, Jesus weeps. Jesus who knows the fulfillment of the promises weeps with Martha and Mary. And Jesus weeps with us too.

[1] Card, Michael, “A Sacred Sorrow, Reaching Out to God in the Lost Language of Lament.” Introduction by Eugene Peterson. Colorado Springs: NavPress, 2005, pages 11-12.
[2] “Feasting on the Word.” David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009, page 236.
[3] John 11:35, New Revised Standard Version. This is the version we use in worship.

Romance

This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Berryville, Arkansas on the Fifth Sunday in Lent, March 9, 2008.

Ezekiel 37:1-14
Psalm 130
Romans 8:6-11
John 11:1-45

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen

I have been thinking about romance lately. Sort of a Valentines Day hangover if you will. I’m sure part of it has to do with Marie’s niece Valerie getting married in Portland next month. It reminds me of our wedding and the romance of our lives. I hope this recollection is helping you remember the romance in your life, whether it be the puppy love of days long ago or the touch on your cheek when you awoke this morning. There are few more wonderful feelings than romance. The love that sprouts from romance should forever nurture the joy of our relationships.

As I read the story of the rising of Lazarus from the depth of his tomb, I was struck by the love Jesus shares with his friends, and his friends with him.

“Lord, he whom you love is ill.” The sisters of Lazarus, Mary and Martha, send word of his illness to Jesus. “Lord, he whom you love is ill.” Lazarus is very ill, debilitatingly ill. He is weak and needs assistance.[1] Mary and Martha hope and pray that Jesus will come before it is too late to save their brother.

Jesus declares Lazarus’ illness does not lead to death. Instead his illness is for God’s glory, so that the Son may be glorified through it. And somehow it is for this same glory that Jesus spends two more days in the wilderness before going to Lazarus’ side.

Jesus knows it will be dangerous to go to Judea to see Lazarus. The previous chapter told the story of how the Pharisees tried to stone Jesus the last time he was in Judea. Just so that we don’t forget this nugget, the disciples remind him of this too.

But Jesus is the light of the world; he reminds the disciples they must travel while it is still light so they do not stumble.

So when they arrive in Judea, Lazarus has been dead for four days. His body has been prepared and was laid in his family’s tomb. The stone over the mouth of the tomb has been replaced and his body has begun to return to nature.

Hearing that Jesus was on his way, Martha goes to meet him. Our reading goes like this, “Martha said to Jesus, ‘Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.’” I read this and I can’t help but feel the emotion welling up within her. Is she angry at her Lord for not coming sooner, before Lazarus died? Was she in deep sorrow and grief that he had passed? Was she worried about her future now that her brother had died? Anger, grief, sorrow, uncertainty; yes I am sure she felt all of this. And in addition scripture reflects she felt a deep abiding love and trust in Jesus.

She trusts in the resurrection, a resurrection that will one day be known by all who trust and believe in the Lord. But Jesus tells her something new. He tells her, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who believes in me will never die.”

What more profound love can Jesus have for his people than to give them the gift of life eternal? Such is a love, broader and deeper than we can ever hope or imagine. “God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.”[2] Those who believe will never die.

When Jesus asks Martha if she believes, reflecting the love of the Lord, she said to him, “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.”
Martha returns home to Bethany to tell the grieving Mary the teacher is calling for her. She leaves and finds Jesus in the same place Martha found him.

Weeping, she repeats her sister’s lament word for word, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

On his prompting, Mary takes Jesus to her brother’s tomb. Mary was weeping. The Jews who accompanied Mary were weeping. Now, Jesus wept. So the Jews said, “See how he loved him.”
God’s love can defeat anything the powers of earth and hell can place against it, but that doesn’t stop people from trying. The Pharisees say to no one in particular “If Jesus could restore the sight of a blind man, surely he could have prevented Lazarus from dying.”

When we think of romance literature, we think of stories of great love and sacrifice. Webster calls romance “a narrative dealing with heroic or mysterious events set in a remote time or place.”[3] The story of the rising of Lazarus qualifies as a romance tale. There is love and sacrifice. There are heroic and mysterious events in a remote time and far away place.
Yet, it is important to separate this sort of romance from a Harlequin romance. This is an epic tale of devotion in the face of death, a tale we tell again and again. This is a tale of great romance, of legend and lore and so much more.

In his touchstone work “Life Together,” Dietrich Bonhoeffer writes of the difference between human love and the love of God. “Human love lives by uncontrolled and uncontrollable dark desires;” he writes, “spiritual love lives in the clear light of service ordered by the truth.” The love of God creates freedom from the dark and uncontrollable desires humanity is so apt to seek.[4]

Using botany to illustrate theology, he says that human love breeds “hot-house flowers,”[5] the sort of flower with huge buds, but with stems that cannot support them. “Spiritual love creates fruits that grow healthy in accord with God’s good will in the rain and storm and sunshine of God’s outdoors.”[6]

Jesus said that Lazarus’ illness would not end in death rather it is for God’s glory, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it.” That possibility seemed to fly out the window four days ago. So at Lazarus’ open tomb, Jesus looked upward and said, “Father, I thank you for having heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me.”

Jesus says, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.” He confirms his place in the world and as the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world; and he calls us to believe by his words and deeds as he approaches the tomb crying with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!”

And Lazarus does. Because Lazarus is raised many believe.

When we read this passage, the obvious question is “did this really happen?”

It’s like last week when we read in John 9 when the disciples asked Jesus “who sinned?” “Who sinned” is an interesting question; it just isn’t the important question. The question “did this happen” is one of history. If we use the tools of historians; considering the oral tradition and the recording of events in its day, historians can’t deny that these events happened in the way they are described.[7] But of course, considering these questions in the light of reason verses faith, reason will always be able to raise the specter of doubt.[8]

But you know, this really isn’t the question we want answered, is it?

The question we want answered is beyond the history, the question we want answered is not “did this happen.” The question we want answered is the one Jesus asks: “Do you believe this? Do you believe I am the resurrection and the life? Do you believe that those who believe, even though they die, will live, and that everyone who lives and believes will never die?”

We want to know that the breath of God can breathe new life into these old bones just like the prophet Ezekiel describes.[9]

We want to know that as Paul told the Romans, we are in the Spirit since the Spirit of God dwells in us and though we are dead to sin, because Christ is in us the Spirit is life.[10]

Martha said that she knew her brother would rise again in the resurrection on the last day. Jesus tells Martha and then shows the world that he is the resurrection and the life. This is the first of the last days; and the power of God walks the earth in the person of Jesus of Nazareth. “His full share in God’s power over life and death marks the beginning of God’s new age, the age in which God’s hope for the world becomes reality.”[11]

The miracle is glorious, but it is only a sign. The promise that Jesus is the resurrection and the life is the reality of our lives and the truth we must live. It is the truth, not the miracle which we must keep dear. Only because of the truth that Jesus is the resurrection and the life can we answer the question: “Was the hope of the miracle of new life possible for Lazarus two thousand years ago and is it still possible for us today?” Because Jesus is the resurrection and the life, our answer is yes and amen.

By the truth of the resurrection, Jesus identifies himself with the power of God. By this power, through his love, our sickness in sin will not end in death. Rather we receive the gift of life eternal for the glory of God.

The white hot heat of romance cannot burn forever. It was never intended to burn forever. If it did it would consume everything in its path, especially the lovers. If the love of God was a human creation, it would produce buds our stems could never be able to support. It would never be able to bear the fruit of the Spirit. The love that sprouts from God’s romance with creation forever nurtures the joy of our relationship with the Lord. The flames of that romance put the glow of the fire of Christ into our eyes.

It is by hot wind off of these flames that our dry bones feel the warmth of God, and by this breath from the Lord we live the life in the resurrection. May the glow of this romance continue to warm us as we live the eternal life of the resurrected people of God. May the witness of our lives reflect the warmth of the fire that burns in the fire and the love of the passion of Jesus Christ.

[1] “asthenew,” The Lexicon of the Greek New Testament, edited by Kurt Aland, Matthew Black, Carlo M. Martini, Bruce M. Metzger, and Allen Wikgren, in cooperation with the Institute for New Testament Textual Research, Münster/Westphalia, Fourth Edition (with the same text as the Nestle-Aland 27th Edition of the Greek New Testament), Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft; Stuttgart, 1966, 1968, 1975 by the United Bible Societies (UBS) and 1993, 1994 by (German Bible Society)
[2] John 3:16, NRSV
[3] Merriam-Webster Dictinary. Henry Bosley Woolf, Editor in Chief. Pocket Books, Springfield, MA: Simon and Schuster, 1974, page 607.
[4] Bonhoeffer, Dietrich, Life Together, New York: Harper and Rowe, 1954, page 37.
[5] Ibid.
[6] Ibid.
[7] The New Interpreter’s Bible, Volume IX, Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1995, page 684.
[8] Ibid 693
[9] Ezekiel 37:5-6
[10] Romans 8:9-10
[11] Ibid. New Interpreter’s Bible, page 693.