Emmaus Imagination

We're in this worship space celebrating the third Sunday of Easter. We're still here talking about the resurrection that happened, for us, last month. Some churches invite special guests musicians, or add an extra sunrise service, or do things in a generally "bigger" way than we worship from week to week. A lot of folks wear a special Easter dress, or a different suit. Did Don wear his pink bow tie again this year, or was that a one time thing?

In all the Pomp, we may be losing perspective on just how strange these events were to those who lived them. A handful of folks had been raised from the dead, but nobody had ever seen anything like a resurrection before, so the word was a little slow getting out.

Our morning worship, therefore, begins on the afternoon of Christ's resurrection. Verse thirteen: "On that same day, two disciples were traveling to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem." 

One of the things that struck me in reading this question is why these disciples, who have heard the report of the resurrection, are already heading out. Our churches have been celebrating for two weeks, and have several more to go, and these two guys are skipping town. If we back up just a couple of verses into Luke's account of the resurrection, the women are telling the rest of the disciples about the empty tomb. But "Their words struck the apostles as nonsense, and they didn't believe the women."

It's possible to hear the good news of the gospel, the promise of the resurrection, and be struck as though it is nonsense. It's possible to witness the collapse of a ministry and not believe that something can be built from the rubble. It's possible to find yourself ready to leave Jerusalem on Easter Sunday because the Golgotha imagination can only see the end of a ministry, the death of one we had hoped would redeem Israel.

All of our journeys are going to have stretches when the good news of Christ's resurrection sounds like nonsense. That's part of our reality as Christians. As followers of Jesus Christ, we have been chosen for an arduous journey, and as a church we choose to travel that path together, as faithfully as possible. There are obstacles on our path that challenge our ability to imagine what may be on the other side.

The ancient Israelites journeyed to the promised land and grumbled against Moses all along the way because they were only able to imagine life as slaves in Egypt, or the hardship of the wilderness wanderings. The people of Judah were carried into exile in the land of Babylon and mourned the total collapse of their society, they were only able to imagine that God had failed them and the idols of Babylon had defeated their Lord. The chief priests and leaders in first century Palestine killed a man who was the Christ because they were only able to imagine the weight of the Roman empire crushing their people if a rebellion sparked. These two disciples left Jerusalem and headed for a little town called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, because they could not imagine that God would resurrect their crucified redeemer.

But just as God sent a lawgiver who could imagine a land flowing with milk and honey. Just as God called prophets who could imagine a God that was with the people even in exile, working to bring them back home at the right time. So God sent a Messiah who could imagine redemption and resurrection for all God's people.

And those two disciples on the road from Jerusalem? "While they were discussing these things, Jesus himself arrived and joined them on their journey."

I think what happens next is one of the truest parts of the gospel narrative. Although it only appears in Luke, there's so much power in it to expand our imaginations and shift our lives. Even before they believe, or even know, what God is doing in their midst, they proclaim the gospel. They can only imagine Calvary's suffering, and the news some women from their group brought them seems like nonsense to them. But when a stranger whom they do not recognize asks them what's happening, they tell the story even if, at that moment, they cannot believe it.

God's action is not limited by our ability, or our imagination. God's ability to use us for ministry is not bound by our belief. God interrupts us on the road from Jerusalem to Emmaus, "What are you talking about as you walk along?" and then takes over so that the gospel may be preached even in our unbelief. The good news of Jesus Christ is so powerful that it is proclaimed even through our weak faith and limited imagination.

So they tell Jesus his own story, not imagining that they are telling the most important truths of human history. ""The things about Jesus of Nazareth. Because of his powerful deeds and words, he was recognized by God and all the people as a prophet. But our chief priests and our leaders handed him over to be sentenced to death, and they crucified him. We had hoped he was the one who would redeem Israel. All these things happened three days ago.

"But there's more: Some women from our group have left us stunned. They went to the tomb early this morning and didn't find his body. They came to us saying that they had even seen a vision of angels who told them he is alive. Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found things just as the women said. They didn't see him."

The resurrected Christ responds to the testimony of their Golgotha imagination by breaking down all of scripture, giving them the truth of the arc of human history. His response is not without judgement. ""You foolish people! Your dull minds keep you from believing all that the prophets talked about. Wasn't it necessary for the Christ to suffer these things and then enter into his glory?" Essentially: "You should have known!"

We should have known that God would not be stopped by something as limited as death. All death can do is carry us to our graves, but God is capable of anything. I was at a wedding yesterday, and the minister read the scripture that says "Love is strong as death.

" He then pointed out that the resurrection demonstrates that love is stronger than death. Jesus gives the disciples, and us, just a taste of judgement for not having the imagination to recognize how God was at work, for not having the faith to believe that the cross would not stop God's redemptive love.

But Christ's word of judgement, "You foolish people," is ultimately a word of  love. "You should have known better, but since you didn't, here's what's going on." He's not willing to leave behind these disciples who are trying to get out of Jerusalem because all they can imagine is faith that has died. "Then he interpreted for them the things written about himself in all the scriptures, starting with Moses and going through all the Prophets."

But the disciples were still prevented from recognizing him.

When they were unknowingly preaching his death and resurrection, they did not recognize him. When Christ was lecturing them on the theology of the Old Testament, they did not recognize him. When they were walking along the road to their homes, they did not recognize him. When they invited him into their home, they still did not know who is was who was in their midst. "After he took his seat at the table with them, he took the bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Their eyes were opened and they recognized him,"

It is at the breaking of the bread, the enactment of the Lord's Supper, that we encounter the risen Christ. It is the power of the Holy Spirit that elevates us to dine with Christ at the Lord's Table, and that encounter gives us an Emmaus Imagination, where we can catch a glimpse of the kingdom of God already in our midst. Our eyes had been clouded with the heartbreak, heartbreak that the one we hoped would redeem Israel was handed over to be crucified. Now, however, we have seen the Lord and know the truth of those words that had once seemed to be nonsense.

Christ is certainly present with them throughout this whole story, and I have every confidence that Christ is present with us throughout our stories as well, whether we are able to believe it or not. Christ's presence among us is very real, although it is not in a physical way. Since we cannot experience Christ through our senses, it is left to our Emmaus Imagination to open our eyes so that we can recognize someone who's presence is more real than any sight or touch or smell.

Perhaps the strangest, most complicated, mysterious branch of theology is how we understand the sacraments. Most people just say they don't know how it happens, only that it does. Sharing in the Lord's Supper is one of the central acts of the worshipping life of the church, because it's how we recognize Christ in our midst. One commentator remarked on this Emmaus story saying, "There is no doubt that Luke is serving not only the story of Jesus but also that of the church which knows him in these ways.

"

Once Christ breaks the bread and the disciples' eyes were opened, and they recognized him, he disappears. The two disciples, who had left Jerusalem because they could not imagine the nonsense of the women from their group being truth, leave after it's already dark and walk, perhaps even run, seven miles back from Emmaus to tell their friends and colleagues, their brothers and sisters in Christ, what they have seen.

So even though the word of Christ's resurrection has gotten out slowly, spreading through the testimony of those who have gone from inability to believe to absolute faith in the resurrected Christ, the story is still told, and we still encounter Christ. We share in the first-hand experience of the resurrected Christ with these disciples who have returned filled with Emmaus Imagination.

The nonsense of the women at the tomb has become these disciples testimony too, and in turn has become ours. We have seen the LORD, the Messiah of the resurrection, whenever we gather around the bread and the cup, which awaken us to the real presence of Christ in our midst.

Alleluia, Amen.

Planted in Praise

Psalm 97:

1The LORD rules! Let the earth rejoice!

Let all the islands celebrate!

2Clouds and thick darkness surround God.

His throne is built on righteousness and justice.

3Fire proceeds before him,

burning up his enemies on every side.

4His lightning lights up the world;

the earth sees it and trembles!

5The mountains melt like wax before the LORD,

before the Lord of the whole world!

6Heaven has proclaimed God’s righteousness,

and all nations have seen his glory.

7All those who worship images,

those who are proud of idols,

are put to shame.

All gods bow down to the Lord!

8Zion has heard and celebrates,

the towns of Judah rejoice,

because of your acts of justice, LORD,

9because you, LORD, are the Most High over all the earth,

because you are so superior to all other gods.

10Those of you who love the LORD, hate evil!

God guards the lives of his faithful ones,

delivering them from the power of the wicked.

11Light is planted like seed for the righteous person;

joy too for those whose heart is right.

12Rejoice in the LORD, righteous ones!

Give thanks to his holy name!

This is the word of the Lord

Thanks be to God

Amy Sharp is one of the great saints of the church. She is not famous for miracles, or for mission work, she is one of the great multitude of witnesses who have lived out their faith in ways that proclaim the gospel at all times.

She was a member of my home church, taught Sunday school, volunteered with the Youth Group, and was in worship almost every Sunday. She is also one of the first friends my mother made when my family moved to Morganton.

As Mom’s and Amy’s friendship grew, it became increasingly apparent that Amy was not going to be just Mom’s friend, or my friend Josh’s mom, she also was a mother to me.

During my childhood, my mother leaned heavily on Amy for love and support while she dealt with depression stemming from her childhood. Sometimes this meant going out to lunch together and talking, sometimes it meant playdates at the Sharps’ house while mom had an appointment. Amy was a leader in the village that raised this child of God.

She was my mother’s best friend. Mom, who has resolved her issues, still calls her an angel.

A few years ago, Amy died after a long battle with cancer. I had the honor of attending her memorial service. I took my seat about a third of the way from the front of the sanctuary, next to the outside aisle.

The procession began with my mother’s voice, lifting up an old hymn.

My life rolls on in endless song

Above earth’s lamentation

I hear the real though far-off hymn

That hails the new creation

No storm can shake my inmost calm

While to that rock I’m clinging.

It sounds an echo in my soul.

How can I keep from singing?

I was moved, and amazed. Even in the face of the loss of her best friend who had helped her as she walked through her own darkness, my mother could sing of the beauty of God’s rule over all creation.

My mother’s testimony of God’s reign continued into the second verse:

What though the tempest ‘round me roar,

I know the truth, it liveth,

What though the darkness ‘round me fall,

Songs in the night it giveth

Through all the tumult and the strife,

Those freedom bells come ringing,

Since Christ is Lord o’er heaven and earth

How can I keep from singing?

Though she was sitting in the midst of grief, My mother’s choice of opening hymn established a narrative of trust in God’s ability to work wonders that sounded an echo in the souls gathered for the service of Witness to the Resurrection. When we see the wonders of God’s rule in our world, how can respond with anything other than a song of praise. “The Lord rules! Let the earth rejoice! Let all the islands celebrate. Clouds and thick darkness surround God. His throne is built on righteousness and Justice.”

The LORD rules!

This isn’t a generic God that you could find in any ancient bazaar, this is not an abstract God who is here to make us feel better, the LORD who reigns is the one who spoke creation into existence, who brought the Israelites out of Egypt, who spoke through the prophets of Israel and Judah, and accompanied her people into the captivity of Babylon.  The God who rules is the one who wrote the real though far-off hymn that hails the new creation.

This is not an ethereal force who binds us all together, all the rough edges of relationship sanded off so there’s no friction between us anymore. This is the God who argued with Moses and called a large fish to swallow Jonah for trying to run away from his calling. This reigning LORD is the truth that lives though the tempest may ‘round us roar.

“Fire proceeds before him, burning up his enemies on every side. His lightning lights up the world; the earth sees it and trembles!”

And having seen the works of God

How can we keep from singing?

The Psalm continues in verse three with a section where creation testifies to God’s sovereignty. The LORD rules over fire and lightning, and the earth trembles before God’s mighty actions. And though we are told in a proverb that we should build our homes on a rock rather than on sand, even mountains melt like wax before the LORD. Though the mountains are ancient, the strength of their stone foundations pales in comparison to the greatness of God.

Creation sees and testifies to the majesty of the LORD. The lighting, the fire, and the mountains that pass away like melting wax “before the Lord of the whole world” are intimidating images. It would be easier, perhaps, to have a soft, always approachable, easy-going God to worship, who pats us on the head when we show up in our Sunday best, then sends us on our way.

But this is not that god that we sometimes create for ourselves. “Heaven has proclaimed God’s righteousness, and all nations have seen his glory.” One does not earn that reputation by accommodating everyone’s preferences. God’s righteousness establishes justice for all people, and isn’t satisfied with merely making us feel better.

God’s justice through creation rings,

How can we keep from singing.

“All those who worship images, those who are proud of idols, are put to shame. All gods bow down to the Lord!”

We probably would not call ourselves idol worshippers. By the very nature of our presence in this church, we self-identify as following the God to whom this Psalm was written. We know there are plenty of modern Idols that we do not necessarily call gods. There’s always the classic: money. We even half-jokingly call it “The Almighty Dollar.” We know to watch out that money doesn’t become our focus and goal. The same goes for political figures, we know not to mistake political affiliation for faith, while our faith informs our politics, we know that they are still separate. We know better than to get caught up in those idols.

But this Psalm doesn’t just reject the easy idols, and it is easy to overlook the more subtly worshipped images. Not images of a golden calf, but images of who we think we should be. We worship the sneakier images in ways that we may not even recognize.

How about grades for the students? Or for those of us who perhaps wish perhaps that our children were better students? It is easy to cross from seeking to do our best with our gifts into worshipping the image of the perfect college application. Or those of us who have moved beyond the scholastic world may find ourselves substituting our resumé for that college application.

Many times we also bow to the image of the perfect American family, the one where Ma and Pa always smile lovingly at one another and never fight, the one where little brother and big sister always do their chores and speak respectfully to one another and to their elders.

Perhaps we worship the image of someone who has got their life together, who has a handle on everything and is always the helper, never needing help of their own. The rugged individualist who can accomplish anything on their own merits and talents. It’s the worship of that image that answers “How are you?” with “Fine,” or “Good” even when our hearts are breaking, or when we are overwhelmed and drowning.

This church knows better than most what happens when we pretend that nothing is wrong, deceiving ourselves that if we tell no one of our shame that eventually it will just go away. We watched it happen, and felt the pain of that breach of trust.

The perfect application, the all-american family, the ever-strong and independent individual.

If these are the images we choose to follow, we will be put to shame. Because all of these little philosophies and bits, for which we work so hard, bow down before the Lord like the little gods named by the Psalmist. They are subject to the rule of the LORD, and though we may try to convince ourselves otherwise, we too need the sovereign God.

In trusting God alone who reigns,

How can we keep from singing.

In writing this sermon, someone whom I consider a friend and mentor pointed to verse ten, “Those of you who love the LORD, hate evil!/God guards the lives of his faithful ones, delivering them from the power of the wicked,” and asked if it was saying that all one has to do is love God and be in right relationship and all the problems of your life would be solved.

If evil and wickedness have no power compared the the sovereignty of the one who is the Most High over all the earth, why do they seem to have such terrible effects upon us and those whom we love? If fire proceeds before God, burning up his enemies on every side, why do we sometimes find feeling burned? Is there another fire which God has chosen not to put out, or has the God who loves us burned us?

We know that the LORD rules, and we can let the earth celebrate, but we cannot always join in the praise. Because being guarded and protected as one of God’s faithful doesn’t mean that it is easy. It does mean, however, that it is not up to us to solve every problem and shoulder every burden. My mother sang at her dearest friend’s funeral, “Through all the tumult and the strife/Those freedom bells come ringing/since Christ is Lord of heaven and earth/How can I keep from singing?”

Because just as the mountains melt like wax before the one who is Most High over all the earth, so too our pain and suffering can hold no power over us compared to the ability of God to redeem us from the effects of this fallen world. Though our pain is real, it cannot hold our redemption back. We see that truth proclaimed nowhere more powerfully than on the cross, where God suffered and died. The cross where Jesus cried out “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?” But we celebrate at the completion of this Easter season that the story does not end at the cross, but at the empty tomb!

God made Lament a song of Hope,

How can we keep from singing?

“Light is planted like seed for the righteous person; joy too for those whose heart is right.”

We are not righteous on our own. How could we be? We have fallen too far. But to bridge that gap, God sent Christ into the world to break the power of sin and death and re-establish our righteousness rooted not in our own faithfulness, but in Christ’s. The sovereignty of our God is such that we cannot run away from his eternal love. When we’ve seen the wonder of that sovereign love, we cannot help but to share it with one another. “Light is planted like seed,” and blows like a dandelion through this world, because though the darkness ‘round me fall, a light shines in the darkness, and the darkness doesn’t extinguish the light. This is the source of our joy, that the God who loves us will stop at nothing to be with us. And the LORD before whom the mountains melt like wax rules over all that exists, and loves us beyond measure.

Rejoice in God, ye righteous ones

And praise his name most holy

The Father, Son and Spirit reign

How can we keep from singing?

God is Home

God is Home from Joseph Taber on Vimeo.

Luke 19:29-40

As Jesus came to Bethphage and Bethany on the Mount of Olives, he gave two disciples a task. He said, “Go into the village over there, when you enter it, you will find tied up there a colt that no one has ever ridden. Untie it and bring it here. If someone asks, ‘Why are you untying it?’ just say, ‘Its master needs it.’” Those who had been sent found it exactly as he had said.

As they were untying the colt, its owners said to them, “Why are you untying the colt?”

They replied, “Its master needs it.” They brought it to Jesus, threw their clothes on the colt, and lifted Jesus onto it. As Jesus rode along, they spread their clothes on the road.

As Jesus approached the road leading down from the Mount of Olives, the whole throng of his disciples began rejoicing. They praised God with a loud voice because of all the mighty things they had seen. They said,

“Blessings on the king who comes in the name of the Lord.

Peace in heaven and glory in the highest heavens.”

Some of the Pharisees from the crowd said to Jesus, “Teacher, scold your disciples! Tell them to stop!”

He answered, “I tell you, if they were silent, the stones would shout.”

This is the Word of the Lord

Thanks be to God

We are not at the gates of Jerusalem just yet. We’re on the Mount of Olives, near Bethphage and Bethany, and our Lord is looking forward to Jerusalem. We’ve been on this journey alongside the disciples for quite some time, and we’re seen great things along the way. Things that can only be acts of God, performed before our eyes. So we look down the mountain at Jerusalem, the cultural home of Israel.

We see this text’s Jerusalem through the mixture of passages we’ve pulled together to celebrate Palm Sunday, but the Hosannas and Palm Fronds we so often associate with that holiday come from other gospels, and are not present here. Lacking those favorite images, my first instinct is to deconstruct the Palm-Sunday narrative we’ve all heard a hundred times and find out what Luke has to say about all this “triumphal entry” stuff. Then I want to take this text specifically and break it down into its components. My natural inclination is to vivisect this Living Word, and see what it’s made of. But that’s exegesis, not preaching.

So we’ve got this text, an ingredient in the Palm Sunday mixture, and Jesus seems to play a very passive role here. We’ve got a little direction in the first half, and a little dialogue in the second, but the rest of the action is done by the disciples. They go to the nearby village, they untie the colt, they bring it back to Jesus, they set him on the colt, they spread their clothes along the ground while Jesus, carried downhill by gravity and supported by an animal they borrowed from the nearest town, just rides along.

But we’re headed for Jerusalem. God’s activity is less overt in this passage. But we’re looking down from the Mount of Olives, and God is taking us to Jerusalem. From here, we begin a relentless drive to the cross, gathering the momentum we will need as we walk down the hill with our eyes on the gates of Jerusalem.

We’re not at the gates of Jerusalem, as we are in other Gospels’ accounts, we’re at a crossroads. “As Jesus approached the road leading down from the Mount of Olives, the whole throng of his disciples began rejoicing. They praised God with a loud voice because of all the mighty things they had seen.” We’re approaching the road leading down the mountain, and we see our spiritual home, the whole city of Jerusalem laid out before us, and we can look back, figuratively, and see everything that God has done for us. All the mighty things that we have seen, that have shown us that God is active in our world. We look back and see our whole history, from Creation to Egypt to the Promised Land, from Monarchs to the Divided Kingdom to the Exile. From a birth in Bethlehem to a baptism in the Jordan, to parables and miracles and wonders beyond words. When we look back and see that, we can look forward to Jerusalem and know that the redemptive moment is at hand. Though we are living in an occupied land, we look back, this time literally, and see this man Jesus, Jesus who is our redeemer, Jesus who has enacted all of the mighty works we have seen. We look back and see Jesus, and we know that it is God who leads us to Jerusalem.

The disciples can’t keep it inside them, they have to celebrate what they have seen, what they see now. “Blessings on the king who comes in the name of the Lord. Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heavens.” Listen y’all, God’s coming home! God is going down to Jerusalem to be with us, to be our home! We’ve wandered in Canaan with Abraham and Jacob, we were slaves in Egypt with the ancient Israelites, we wandered the wilderness with Moses, we carved out a place for ourselves in the land God promised us, only to be taken away from it and carried into exile in Babylon. We may count ourselves as righteous, saying we’ve followed the law and deserve the land that was promised to us, but even released from Babylon, we’ve been in exile for our whole lives. Even out from under Pharaoh’s lash, we are slaves to our own sinfulness. We have consistently distanced ourselves from our God, but now we get to go home, because God is here, this man right behind me.

I know this man behind me just looks like a man on a colt, but he’s not just a man. This is the Lord! God’s coming home, we’re going to be home again! We’re going to be with God again! And when that’s what is see laid out before us, how can we stay silent? “Blessings on the king who comes in the name of the Lord. Peace in heaven and glory in the highest heavens.”

Then the Pharisees step out of the crowd.

We’ve grown accustomed to the image of Jesus parading through the streets of Jerusalem with droves of people on either side cheering him on, but in this section of Luke, the only crowd mentioned is “the whole throng of [Jesus’s] disciples.” So these Pharisees can only come from the multitude that has been following Jesus.

These aren’t just off-duty priests, as are so often depicted in the cartoon versions of this story we saw as children in Vacation Bible School. Fred Craddock connects these Pharisees with those that warned Jesus about Herod’s plot to kill Jesus. They even acknowledge his authority by calling him “Teacher.” It’s entirely possible that these Pharisees are following Jesus, maybe not as disciples, but they don’t seem to want to interfere with Jesus’s mission, they just want him to do it quietly.

And what a good place for those among us who are Presbyterian to stand. Here are the educated Elite of the Jewish community telling a bunch of rowdy Galileans to maybe try keeping it down a little bit. You can still do your proclamation, just don’t shout about it where the Romans can hear you. Don’t shout it where the high priests can hear you, whisper it politely, decently, orderly, “Teacher, scold your disciples! Tell them to stop!”

But can it be stopped? Some stories need to be told. Some stories are not content to bridge the gap between book covers. Some news must make itself heard, must leap off the pages on which it is printed and take hold of those who know it, compelling them to tell us that God is coming home. God is coming home to be with us, her children. Nevermind all the ways that we have resisted, rebelled, mutinied against God. God is not meeting us halfway, God is bridging the full distance to make his home among us. God is coming to Jerusalem, to reclaim the people as God’s own, because their master has need of them.

So we can imagine Jesus, with Pharisees pleading for reverent silence that won’t offended anybody, looking over the crowd of boisterous disciples. These disciples have got it right, and I hear Jesus’s voice swell with a little bit of pride at the followers who understand the importance of what is happening around them. “I tell you, if they were silent, the stones would shout.”

Stones, as a rule, don’t shout. It’s not in their nature, so far as I can tell. My experience of stones is, at its most poetic, that they are silent witnesses to our histories and struggles. Silent witnesses, barely participating in the world around them, being acted upon, rather than acting themselves, because they’re just rocks.

We can allegorize Jesus’s pronouncement, the stones wouldn’t actually shout, that’s contrary to their nature! Just so the disciples silence in this manner is contrary to their nature. But if you want to see something happen contrary to what we’ve seen before, Jesus is the right place to look. The lame walk, the blind see, the sick are healed, and the dead live. Mighty things are done, and both we and the disciples before us have seen them happen. If these are possible for Jesus, I take him at his word when he says that the stones will shout. Some stories need to be told, and the story that God has come to redeem all of creation is one of those stories that cannot be silenced.

So Jesus tells us, “if they were silent, the stones would shout.” Because the Gospel is irrepressible. God’s story will get told, and it’s our decision as to whether or not we choose to participate in the telling. But with or without us, the good news of God will be spread.

God is active in this passage, driving us down from the Mount of Olives into Jerusalem. The disciples are witnessing to what God has actively done before them. We cannot help but cry out with joy, driven like a flock before our Lord, witnessing to what God has done for us, what God is doing to us, and what God will do through us. This is a story that even a stone could shout, but we have the joy and privilege of proclaiming this Gospel, that God chooses to make God’s home here, with us. The Gospel that when Jesus looks down the mountain at Jerusalem, he also sees the next hill, where he will be crucified. The Gospel that doesn’t conclude in Jerusalem, but merely transitions there. The Gospel that God will be our home, through the redemptive power of both the cross and the empty tomb. With this Gospel in our hearts, how can we possibly be silent.

Focus: When we see what God has done, the nature of who we are compels us to proclaim the Gospel

Function: To remind people of the joy of being a redeemed people.