Language of Faith

We disciples have been waiting for a long time.

At first we were waiting for a messiah, the long hoped-for savior who would restore the covenant with Israel. A savior who would reunite the twelve tribes and free us from the Roman Empire's occupying influence.

He came, a man named Jesus of Nazareth, and he was the Christ, the son of God. He walked through our lives in a way that gave us hope, healing and teaching us wherever we went.

But he ascended into heaven about a week ago, taken up like Elijah from our sight. He told us to wait, that the Holy Spirit would be given to us, and that we would be sent out from Jerusalem to all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.

So we wait.

This Holy Spirit, this advocate whom Jesus is sending is going to be different than the way we knew Jesus when he walked alongside us on the earth, or when he walked up the hill to the cross, or when he walked towards us over the water. We didn't always understand Jesus's actions, but at least we could see what he was doing, hoping that we would understand it later.

The Spirit of God though? How will that lead us? What even will it look like?

Our Lord told us to wait, so we have stayed in the city for these fifty days since Passover, to the festival of booths, called Pentecost by those of us who speak the language of commerce and trade.

Our church has been waiting too, just like the disciples. We've celebrated seven Sundays in the Easter season, watching Jesus appear to the disciples in different ways each week, showing them the truth of the Resurrection. We're still waiting.

Many of us have been waiting for the end of the school year, for the end of exams and standardized tests  for the chance to go on summer vacation with our families and friends. Beaches and mountain cabins called to us as our schedules relaxed enough to allow us to get out into this great world that our God has created and lay our burdens down, at least for a time.

Many of us were waiting for a new Pastor, trusting that our church could finally move forward once there was stability in this pulpit, that we could resume the work that has meant so much to us when we pass stories of our own golden age around the lunch tables and meeting rooms in our lives.

We disciples have been waiting for a long time.

Throughout all our waiting, and that of the disciples who have gone before us, the Holy Spirit has already been working around us, through us, and on us, hovering over the surface of the waters even in the beginning. Speaking through leaders of the ancient Israelites, descending like a dove at Christ's Baptism, present and active inspiring artists and writers to declare the mighty works of God and calling God's people to gather with one another.

Like the disciples, we are gathered together in one place, waiting for we don't know, something amazing we guess.

But the something amazing for which we are waiting is already at work in us, and has guided us through the myriad experiences in our lives so that we can use our whole selves in the worship of God. Our mouths will tell the story, our hearts will beat with God's righteousness and grace, our minds will grapple with the great questions of faith, our hands will build up the kingdom of God, but these classic, images of faithful living are not the only ways to declare the mighty works of God. The Holy Spirit speaks through every language of faith, calling every aspect of our lives to the service of the Lord of heaven and earth.

A friend of mine, before she came to seminary, worked as a clown at Six Flags. It's a bit of an unconventional background, but she put her talents to work through puppet shows for community children, facepainting at church festivals, and when the pastor found out she could juggle, he made special plans for the following Pentecost.

Because other than speaking in tongues, the image most closely associated with this church holiday is the presence of the tongues of fire. So when the worship service came to a close at Pentecost that year, the church processed out and found her juggling torches, fire flying through the air, drifting in the gusts of wind, a powerful image that God gives us gifts so that we can give them back, no matter how clownish the gift may seem at first.

The Pentecost we celebrate today saw a crowd congregate at the outpouring of the Spirit's gifts just as that congregation crowded around their theological fire-juggler. "There were pious Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem. 6When they heard this sound, a crowd gathered. They were mystified because everyone heard them speaking in their native languages. 7They were surprised and amazed,"

The Pentecost of the Old Testament celebrate the gifts of God in the harvest, the promised land, and the Torah. The Gift of the Holy Spirit in our scripture this morning adds to that list with different gifts. The Holy Spirit in this story of acts is giving people the ability to speak in tongues so that they can communicate, not as the ecstatic acts we see depicted on television or even in other places in scripture. Those moments are meaningful to those who experience them, but something altogether different is going on here.

Though some who overhear the disciples hear mass hysteria, it is instead an act of mass prophesy. The disciples who are filled with the Holy Spirit are speaking on behalf of God, declaring God's mighty works to all who might listen. The crowd which has gathered is made of up Jews from every nation under heaven, they are the covenant people who have been raised on these same stories of the mighty works of God. They know the stories of creation, of the great flood, of the liberation from slavery in Egypt, of David and Goliath, of the return from captivity in Babylon, where time and time again the LORD has shown that there is truly a God in Israel.

We are heirs to that tradition, and telling God's story is a privilege, not a burden. When we are filled with the Holy Spirit, it comes bubbling out of us in every way we could possibly express it.

Seminary begins with this thing called "Greek School." It's a two-month course wherein the students learn to read the New Testament in the language in which it was written. For eight weeks we become a semi-monastic community that eats, sleeps, and drinks Greek vocabulary and grammar. During the course of that term we are broken up into small groups and each group is responsibly for leading daily worship for one of the eight weeks. At the beginning of the term we pass around a sheet of paper on which each classmate writes down gifts they would love to offer as worship leadership.

Turns out we had some musicians in our class: a saxophonist, a drummer, a guitarist, a bass player, and me on the trombone. So one day in chapel we had a jazz band lead worship.

I've played Jazz since I was in the 10th grade, and it payed for part of my college education, but church music in our tradition calls for more Bach than in does the Blues. The centuries of tradition have given Back an aura of reverence, making its place in our prelude this morning all the more appropriate. The improvisation in a Jazz solo, however, tends to lend itself towards celebrating the individual musician, rather than pointing to God as worship should.

So I had always maintained an intentional distance between the language of jazz and the words we offer in worship. But for one chapel service during Greek School, those two were merged.

It very well may have set the tone for the rest of my seminary career.

Because in that service, someone offered a different perspective on the improvised jazz solo, not as an opportunity to celebrate my skill, or even to have a conversation with my fellow musicians, but to offer a prayer through the language of jazz improv, expressing joy and gratitude to God for all of his mighty works, and for the gifts that allowed me to sing his praises. That perspective, offered in passing, moved my musical vocabulary from performance to proclamation.

So for the rest of my time in seminary, I explored how we can translate our ancient truths into new languages. Not just from New Testament Greek into Standard American English, but into our own native languages.

Language is more than just the print that appears on your newspaper every morning, or the setting you select the first time you turn on your smartphone. It's the way we communicate with one another through sounds and symbols to convey our meaning to one another. Sometimes that is through alphabets and grammar, other times it is through the emotion we put into an improvised solo, or the concentration of a fire-juggler. Sometimes it is through the dynamic sweeping lines of art, or any of the other ways we can express God's gifts in our lives.

Part of my calling is to help find it and for us to find ways to use the gifts of the Holy Spirit for the glory of God, and to celebrate how God works in each of us by using those gifts in worship, if possible.

We have plenty of practice in telling the stories our spiritual ancestors have passed down to us. Many of us can recite Scripture after Catechism after Hymn. Some of us can offer testimony to when we have experienced God in our own lives, but we cannot be limited to expressing the mighty works of God in these forms. We are people of the Word: the Word made flesh in Christ Jesus, the Word read in scripture, the Word proclaimed in worship, and the Word enacted in the sacraments. But often we have other native languages, languages of touch, of logic, of music, of movement, of relationships, and of art.

My experience of playing an improvised solo wasn't powerful because I got to show off, it was meaningful because someone gave me permission to declare the mighty acts of God through the language of Jazz. In the same way, my friend found power within her ability to tell our shared story of creation and redemption through juggling fire.

God's gifts are the language in which we testify to who God is, and how we express gratitude for who God has created us to be.

So we tell our ancient truths in new ways, not because the words are stale and need updating, but because they are so powerful we have to express them in every way we can.

The Spirit came as fire and a howling fierce wind. In my experience when one adds wind to fire, either the fire spreads or it burns hotter. Frequently both are true. We come to worship on Sunday's because we need to gather and be filled with the Spirit of God to that we can burn hotter and we go back into the world to spread the flame further, through accounting and teaching, music and contracting, and everything in between, the gifts God has given us are the language in which we express what God has done for us. Let us therefore offer those gifts back to the God who is the source of all our gifts, using them to God's glory.

We have been waiting, but we have already received the gift of the Holy Spirit. We have been given immeasurable gifts and are empowered by the Holy Spirit to express ourselves and in turn to declare the mighty acts of God.

We disciples have been waiting for a long time. But now is the time to speak God's love with every language the Holy Spirit has give us.

The Words God Gave Us

John 17:1-11

1When Jesus finished saying these things, he looked up to heaven and said, "Father, the time has come. Glorify your son, so that the Son can glorify you. 2You gave him authority over everyone so that he could give eternal life to everyone you gave him. 3This is eternal life: to know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you sent. 4I have glorified you on earth by finishing the work you gave me to do. 5Now, Father, glorify me in your presence with the glory I shared with you before the world was created.

6I have revealed your name to the people you gave me from this world. They were yours and you gave them to me, and they have kept your word. 7Now they know that everything you have given me comes from you. 8This is because I gave them the words that you gave me, and they received them. They truly understood that I came from you, and they believed that you sent me.

9I'm praying for them. I'm not praying for the world but for those you gave me, because they are yours. 10Everything that is mine is yours and everything that is yours is mine; I have been glorified in them 11I'm no longer in the world, but they are in the world, even as I'm coming to you, Holy Father, watch over them in your name, the name you gave me, that they will be one just as we are one.

This is the Word of the Lord
Thanks be to God

This is not a sermon. This is a very intimate moment between God the Father and God the Son into which the gospel writer drops us. Within the narrative progression of John's gospel, this prayer precedes Jesus's arrest in the garden, and follows a long series of teachings that began with Jesus washing the feet of his disciples.

Within the progression of our church calendar this is the final Sunday of the Easter Season, on which we celebrate Christ's ascension into heaven, to sitteth on the right hand of God the Father almighty. Knowing that he is returning to the Father, Jesus prays for the disciples at the end of his earthly ministry.

I am at the opposite end of my ministry timeline. I'm a first call pastor on his first Sunday. Sure I've completed all the appropriate coursework and crossed the stage, diploma in hand, I've even been approved by all the requisite committees and subcommittees. I have been affirmed in my calling and in being qualified. This is not my first time in this pulpit, I've been here as a supply preacher a couple of times over the last year. But this is my first service in this new relationship that we have together.

God could have put me in this pulpit at a time when we celebrate one of the great call narratives from scripture: Young Samuel saying "Yes Lord?" Isaiah answering "Here I am, send me." David being sought out in the field and anointed as the next leader in Israel. I'd have been thrilled to introduce myself alongside the call of the first disciples, leaving behind our nets and following Jesus, or Paul's conversion on the road to Damascus. But that's not what God had in mind.

God, in his wisdom, decided that I should begin here on a Sunday when we celebrate the story of Jesus's departure from being a physical presence among us. God, this morning, is present in the intimate prayer between Jesus and his Father, where we disciples fade into the background so that we can catch a glimpse of who Jesus is when he's not healing or teaching those whom the Father has put in his path.

So this is not a sermon, This is God the Son is speaking to God the Father, not to us. If this were a film, the camera would be centered on Jesus as he looks up to heaven. We'd be the slightly out-of-focus bystanders, wondering at all we've heard and seen over this easter season. We are imagining what may happen in the next chapter, after Jesus has returned to the father.

Our imaginations are fed by his prayer, "Father, the time has come. Glorify your Son, so that the Son can glorify you. You gave him authority over everyone so that he could give eternal life to everyone you gave him." Soon Jesus will be lifted up in a way that shows us not only himself, but reveals the face of God as well. Jesus gives our imaginations a picture of eternal life as well, "This is eternal life: to know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you sent." It's not a far-off possibility, it's a present reality where we are able to encounter and know God.

Once we have come to know the only true God and Jesus Christ whom God has sent to be among us, how can we not live a life that is free from all the baggage that burdens us in our lives. God sent Jesus to free us from that weight, to break the power of sin and death for all time! "This is eternal life: to know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you sent." Eternal life is present today. The sacrifice has been made, the victory has been won, we can act knowing that our baggage does not define us, our relationship with God does!

Today is not a day to celebrate that we have a new minister or that I have a church. It's a day to celebrate God. It's that eternal life thing: eternal life is not to know that our church is growing and has all the best programs. It's not to know that we have a context in which is do ministry. It's not that we have worked so long to come to this point. Eternal life is to know the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom God sent. Our celebrations are all conducted in knowledge that God intervenes in the world and has called us to be a community united in Christ. We celebrate because our chief end is to glorify God and enjoy him forever.

So I'm grateful, and indeed I celebrate the opportunity to begin my ministry because I know that God is at work in this community, and I am honored to be a part of both the work and the community. I am joyful because I enjoy God, and by extension I shall also enjoy the ministry to which God has called us. For me, that ministry begins with getting to know what God is already doing in our midst, and in getting to know my fellow disciples here: the people who are the Presbyterian Church of Lowell.

Jesus is praying on behalf of the disciples, whom he has gotten to know very well over the course of his earthly ministry. He prays in verse seven "I gave them the words that you gave me, and the received them." We are just beginning to get to know one another. You've seen a brochure about me, and maybe talked with me once or twice around the church this week, but we're just embarking on this journey. God has put us on this journey together for a purpose, even though the destination has already been chosen on our behalf. Just as the disciples were God's and God gave them to Jesus, so God gives us each other because none of us will get very far by ourselves.

God has given us each other because we need each other. We have been called together for a purpose. I firmly believe that the reason we're on this journey together is that God has given us a word to give each other. Jesus gave the disciples the words that God gave him, and we, as disciples, have received them. Now it's our task to share them with each other, and with the rest of the world. For as our Acts passage read this morning, we "will be [Christ's] witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea, and Samaria, and to the end of the Earth."

Jesus, on the other hand, states outright that "I'm praying for [the disciples]. I'm not praying for the world but for those you gave me, because they are yours." Jesus's prayer is not some over-arching universal blessing, he knows God is taking care of all creation in the crucifixion and resurrection. For the ascension, he knows that the transition will be difficult for his followers, so he prays for them specifically. Even after they negotiate that shift, they won't be able to sit back and rest, the Holy Spirit is coming at Pentecost to compel them outward. They're moving from difficult transition to being equipped to work on behalf of the kingdom of God.

 I think it's a fair leap to say that Jesus wasn't just talking about his followers who were in the room, but all of God's people in every time and place. You know, like us. I've done a lot of research over the last several months into the history and character of our community. Even in the starkness of presbytery and church records one can see that this church has not had an easy road over the last few years.

My own path is also not without it's potholes. My final year at seminary my wife and I maintained a long-distance marriage. We were convinced that each of us were called to the work we were doing, she at Kings Mountain and I at Columbia Theological Seminary and Saint Andrews. We were also certain that we were called to be with one another within the covenant of marriage, which only made balancing our relationship and careers that much more difficult. We moved forward in faith that our distance was a temporary status, and that the God who called us to be together would provide the opportunity for us to labor close enough that we could live together.

A little over a year ago, I finished my coursework at Columbia, and moved back in with my spouse. It was, and still is, wonderful to live with the person whom I love, even though it meant leaving behind the work that I found important and fulfilling. I made a little money with supply preaching, and eventually found an unpaid internship at a hospital which gave me opportunity to develop my pastoral care abilities, but it didn't give me the opportunity for worship leadership that is part of my identity.

Now I'm here, not in some generic church to deliver a substitute sermon, but with the people whom God has given me. And this church now has a Preacher whom God has given you. God has built a community here, uniting two churches almost 67 years ago to become the Presbyterian Church of Lowell. I'm not going to try and remake this church in my image, or try and shape the community into what I think it should be. God is already present and active here. God has given you a word to say to me, and I want to pay attention to what God is saying to me through this community.

This is a sermon, an act of proclamation and testimony in public worship. This sermon, and the others that will follow over the course of our journey together, is one way in which I will share the words God gives me. So too will be my Pastoral Counseling and my involvement in Christian Education. I will find ways to share the words God gives me through mission and outreach, through service to the larger church, and even through administrative work.

This congregation also has words God gave y'all, and I want to hear them. It's not just feedback like "Enjoyed your message, preacher," although I am eager for that feedback. It's also the ways that your lives reflect how God is active in your lives. The Word of God is present in more languages than are spoken or written, and the name of God, which Jesus has given us, is written on our hearts. Let us, therefore, find every expression we can manage to share the words God gave us with one another, and with the world.

Irrespective of the difficult roads that have shaped our recent history, separately and together, God is always working on us and through us. I'm not here to try and reform the church or "save" it, we've already got a savior, and this is the last Sunday of his earthly ministry.

But it's the first Sunday where we share a ministry together. We will take the prayer Jesus lifted on our behalf and use it to propel ourselves forward. We will share the words God gave us with each other so that we can better know the God who is in our midst. From there we shall go from Jerusalem, to all of Judea, to Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.

Witnessing to the ends of the earth is a big task, too big for even the giants of faith lifted up in other Bible stories. The only human action that reached that far is when a man named Jesus of Nazareth was lifted up on the cross to die, and then rose from the dead. Of course, that one was also God's action.

So for these big tasks, when we cannot make the breadth of the journey alone, God gives us each other. God has given us the words to encourage and instruct one another, and our hope is that we will be one, just as God the Father and God the Son are one.

My prayer, therefore, at the beginning of our ministry together that we are able to share with each other the words God gave us, and that we will remain united in Christ even as we share our diverse perspective of how God is at work in our midst.

Vision and Recognition

Vision and Recognition from Joseph Taber on Vimeo.

I wonder if you feel conspicuous. I wonder if you’re surrounded by the joy of this little easter we call Sunday, and don’t feel the same joy that others around you are showing. You look around you and see the trappings of worship, of love, of grace, but all you see in yourself is human depravity. It’s a great day for everyone else, the new year is off to a good start for them, but you feel, somehow, overlooked by the community that claims this sanctuary as its home. I wonder if you’ve built up an image of what you want people to see of you, so that they won’t recognize how little you match what you see around you. I wonder if your great fear is that someone will see through the image you have so carefully constructed for others. I wonder if you fear that because you worry that the image of God is so distorted in you that it is unrecognizable, even to God.

I wonder if you may be saying “Don’t look now, but I can’t find a job.” “I don’t want anyone to see, but I’m not sure if this whole "God" thing applies to me.” “Don’t show anyone that I had such a fight with my family that I can’t even concentrate on the service going on around me right now.” “I’ve got to keep up appearances, even though I’m falling apart as soon as no one is looking.” "I spent so much time trying to look, or think, or love, or believe like those around me that I don't even recognize myself anymore"

I wonder if you recognize yourself in any of these portraits. I wonder if each of us is portrayed by one of them. I wonder if our spiritual ancestors could also find themselves conspicuously displayed among these images of struggle: The old man who sees only advanced age for himself and his wife, rather than the children God had promised them; The leader who sees the Promised Land, but is not allowed to enter; The widow who mourns the loss of her sons with no way to care for her daughters-in-law; The prophet who keeps vigil as his people are carried off into bondage; The girl who becomes Queen only to have her whole people threatened by a jealous advisor; The carpenter who dreams about raising a child he did not father; The woman who looks for healing and sees only twelve years of hemorrhages; Even these heroes from scripture didn't always recognize how God's hand was at work, and yet God worked in, among, and through them nevertheless. I wonder if we could see ourselves in that story as well. I wonder if we can see ourselves in this story?

“A man named John was sent from God.” But this is a different picture of John than we may be accustomed to from reading the accounts of Matthew, Mark, and Luke. The Gospel according to John, has a rather conspicuously different portrait of John the Baptist. He is not described as a wilderness man, and we are not shown vignettes of demands for repentance and accusations of “You brood of Vipers.” John is not a harbinger of end-times judgement. He is a witness.

“The next day John saw Jesus coming toward him and said, ‘LOOK!’” John, in this gospel, does not pass judgement or carry out sentencing, he offers his testimony that Jesus is in fact “The Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!” I can imagine John stretching out the long, bony, finger he is sometimes depicted with in paintings towards this ordinary looking man, identifying him as the long-looked-for Word made Flesh. That’s him! That’s the guy! “This is the one of whom I said ‘he who comes after me is really greater than me because he existed before me!’”

The thing about testimony is that it has no proof other than the conviction of the one giving it. John believes that Jesus is the Lamb of God so strongly that he offers his witness even though by his own admission, “Even I didn’t recognize him.”

It makes me wonder how many times we have seen the one we seek and not recognized him. How many Christians have devoted their lives, like John, to pointing to this person, this God, this one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit, in spite of not being able to recognize him. How many times has Jesus the Christ been the overlooked one? John is here as a witness with one job: He came to testify concerning the Light of the World. Yet he confesses "Even I didn't recognize him." But the Lamb of God has come nevertheless. Even I didn't recognize him, but the Spirit descended on him like a dove nevertheless. Even I didn't recognize him, but he is the anointed one nevertheless. Once he finally recognizes Jesus, he keeps pointing to him, even into the next day.

“The next day, John was again standing with two of his disciples. When he saw Jesus walking along he said, “Look! The Lamb of God!” The two disciples heard what he said, and they followed Jesus.” I don’t know what the difference between yesterday’s “Look” and today’s “Look” was, but this time the two disciples recognized the urgency in John's voice. This time they heard and recognized the importance of his message. "Look! The Lamb of God!"

The "Lamb of God" image that the disciples see when John points to this man Jesus carries visions of liberation from bondage in Egypt. A Lamb was offered at Passover, not to wipe away sin but as a reminder that God brings us out of Egypt, where we were slaves. So in the same manner as the Israelites followed Moses out of the house of Pharaoh, these two disciples of John walk behind Jesus with no vision of where their steps will lead them, and with no recognition beyond John's recommendation.

Then Jesus turns around and asks them a question: "What are you looking for?"

This question hits me right in my center. Because I don't know that I have a satisfactory answer. I know the "right" answer, "I'm looking for a way to glorify God and enjoy him forever." I just don't know if I'm really searching for something so lofty. These disciples have been following Jesus for a few minutes when he turns on his heel, looks them squarely in the face and confronts them with a question to which I don't have a really good answer. If Jesus connected with you in the same eye-to-eye fashion that faced these disciples, could you trust him with the search you don't show anyone?

“Don’t look now, but I can’t find a job.” “I don’t want anyone to see, but I’m not sure if this whole "God" thing applies to me.” “Don’t show anyone that I had such a fight with my family that I can’t even concentrate on the service going on around me right now.” “I’ve got to keep up appearances, even though I’m falling apart as soon as no one is looking.” "I spent so much time trying to look, or think, or love, or believe like those around me that I don't even recognize myself anymore"

I wonder what we would say to Jesus when he asks us "What are you looking for?" I can promise you that my answer would be just as ham-handed and stammering as the disciples' awkward response "Rabbi, where are you staying?" What are you looking for a hotel room? This guy is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! You want to know his lodging situation? That's only about two steps up from grabbing whatever is nearby and saying "Oh, just this, I've found it now, I think I'll be going back into hiding now." Jesus's "What are you looking for" maybe makes us feel more conspicuous than we'd ever let anyone see. The light that shines in the darkness, you know, recognizes you when you're staring him in the face. And if you've never had that light enter your field of vision before, it'll take you back a step. Even they didn't recognize him, but the presence of God compelled them to follow him nevertheless.

Because the one who can't find a job isn't just looking for a paycheck. They're looking for a way to participate in their own household so that they can know they are valued and not resented for always needing to be cared for.

Because the one who isn't sure if they have a part of this God thing isn't looking for an easy answer. They're looking for a narrative that fits with what they've seen, and the answers others have given them are not sufficient for their experience. It's difficult to love a God when you can never recognize him.

Because the one who is not fully present due to a recent fight isn't looking for a solution to their argument. They're looking for a community where it is safe to be struggling with imperfection.

Because the one who hides their thoughts and looks and beliefs and loves isn't looking for a way to meet expectations. They're looking for the assurance that they are loved for who they are regardless of any criteria.

Jesus recognizes that in the two men who followed him. He recognises that they don’t have the vision for what this passover lamb can mean for them. They’re looking for the wholeness they can only get from God, but their vision is distorted by their bondage to sin. So when their answer about what they’re looking for is meaningless, he offers them a new viewpoint, where they can see what God has in store for the whole of creation firsthand, and testify to others. “Come and see.”

Come and see what true humanity looks like. Come and see what liberation from what holds you back looks like. Come and see what service to the God who creates, redeems, and sustains you looks like. Come and see that the darkness cannot overcome the light.

Come and see grace that frees you from your shame and guilt. Come and see a community guided by a commandment to Love one another in spite of our brokenness. Come and see love that will not let you go no matter how you love, what you believe, how you look, or what you think. Come and see that God has called you by name and is deeper than the easy answers. Come and see that God has given you gifts to be expressed in the world with gratitude, even if they don’t come with a paycheck. Come and see what it is you’re looking for, even if you don’t recognize it at first.

After an afternoon with this new kind of teacher, Andrew has to go tell his brother what has happened. We have no indication what Simon Peter was looking for. But he’s just as human as the rest of us, so I can say with confidence that he was looking for something. Andrew, his brother, tells him what he’s found when he was didn’t even have the vision to know what he was looking for. “We have found the Messiah,” he tells his brother. John’s testimony of “Look! The Lamb of God!” was enough for Andrew to look closer, and to find his own image of who Jesus is. Andrew’s testimony of “We have found the Messiah!” was enough to capture Simon Peter’s attention. Once he has been led to Jesus, Jesus looks at him and recognizes him in the same way that he recognized that the other two disciples needed to be invited to come and see.

Jesus recognizes us where we are, and knows that we don’t know more than a portion of what we’re looking for, sometimes we don’t even know that we’ve been looking. Our vision is still distorted by sin, so much that we cannot always recognize that the Lamb of God is in our midst, a reminder of the unapologetic ferocity of God’s love for us. We coat ourselves with images of what we ought to be and expect others to see us the way we wish we were.

But God recognizes us in spite of all that meaningless posturing, recognizes us as his children, recognizes us as those whom he has set free from the shadows in which we try to hide ourselves. God sees through the mask and invites us to take it off and live as one transformed by grace. We have seen God’s unwavering work in the world, even if we haven’t recognized it. We don’t have to know what we’re looking for, but when we do recognize it, all we have to do is point and say “Look!” And when we cannot even muster the faith to conspicuously point to God, which is going to be a lot of the time, Jesus still calls to us with a promise of the greatness of God. “Come and See.”

In the end, I have every confidence that we will all be able to say “We have found the Messiah.” But only because Jesus the Christ found us first.

Even I didn't recognize him, but the light shines in the darkness nevertheless.

Even I didn't recognize him, but the Lamb of God takes away the sin of the world nevertheless.

Even I didn't recognize him, but he came and baptized us with the Holy Spirit nevertheless.

Even I didn't recognize him, but he went to the cross to deliver me from the bondage of sin nevertheless.

Come and see what the new life we have in a resurrected Christ looks like, and you may recognize the living God in your midst. But even if you do not recognize him, God is at work in you, for you, and through you nevertheless.

Behind Closed Doors (John 20:19-31)

Behind Closed Doors from Joseph Taber on Vimeo.
John 20:19-31
19It was still the first day of the week. That evening, while the disciples were behind closed doors because they were afraid of the Jewish Authorities, Jesus came and stood among them. He said, “Peace be with you.” 20After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. When the disciples saw the Lord, they were filled with joy. 21Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father sent me, so I am sending you.” 22Then he breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit. 23If you forgive anyone’s sins, they are forgiven; if you don’t forgive them, they aren’t forgiven.”
24Thomas, the one called Didymus, one of the Twelve, wasn’t with the disciples when Jesus came. 25The other disciples told him, “We’ve seen the Lord!”
But he replied, “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands, put my finger in the wounds left by the nails, and put my hand into his side, I won’t believe.”
26After eight days his disciples were again in a house and Thomas was with them. Even though the doors were locked, Jesus entered and stood among them. He said, “Peace be with you.” 27Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here. Look at my hands. Put your hand into my side, no more disbelief. Believe!
28Thomas responded to Jesus, “My Lord and my God!!
29Jesus replied, “Do you believe because you see me? Happy are those who don’t see and yet believe.”
30Then Jesus did many other miraculous signs in his disciples’ presence, signs that aren’t recorded in this scroll. 31But these things are written so you will believe that Jesus is the Christ, God’s Son, and that believing, you will have life in his name.

This is the Word of the Lord,
Thanks be to God

We have seen the Lord.

Last Sunday we proclaimed proudly “The LORD is Risen!” He is Risen indeed! We read it, we said it, we sang it, we put our faith into the testimony of the women who went to the Tomb.

And yet, here we are, on the evening of that same day. These unnamed and unnumbered followers of Jesus are gathered together, and either word hasn’t gotten around to this particular group of disciples, or they’re still stuck on the idle talk version of the story.

We have seen the Lord, and yet we gather behind closed doors.

The disciples, we are told, have closed the doors around themselves because they are afraid of the Jewish authorities, afraid that perhaps, unsatisfied with the leader of their little movement, they will come next for his followers. They are behind closed doors because perhaps they are still anonymous enough that if they keep their heads down they won’t be recognized on the streets of their holy city as being one of those people, one of his people. This group of Jesus’s followers have closed themselves in because even if it’s too late for those who are known as the Twelve, whom Jesus called friends, perhaps the outer circles of Jesus’s followers can still escape the persecution that sent their Lord to the cross and to his grave. Perhaps, behind these closed doors, the authorities whom they fear might not find them.

We have seen the Lord, and yet we gather behind closed doors, because what lies outside those doors scares us.

Behind closed doors, we may not be safe, but we are at least a little hidden from the festivals in which we dare not partake. These festivals remember when we were slaves in Egypt, when God passed over the homes that were marked by the blood of a lamb, when God struck down the firstborn of every Egyptian household. These festivals cannot enter through these doors. We have closed them out because the one we have called Firstborn of all Creation has also been struck down, and we know we are still in bondage. We gather behind closed doors because outside is a world where our God has been executed.

We have seen the Lord, and yet we gather behind closed doors, because what lies outside those doors scares us. But Jesus stands among us.

The Lamb of God, whose life blood ran out along a spear-forged path only a few days ago, stands among us, and speaks to our disbelieving fear, “Peace be with you.”

Lest we believe that the darkness of what we call Good Friday has been erased, Jesus shows us his hands. Lest we believe that the light that shows forth on our Easter evening is some sort of trick, Jesus shows us his side. Lest we believe that our whole world is lost to chaos and fear, Jesus says to us, “Peace be with you.”

We have seen the Lord, and yet we gather behind closed doors, because what lies outside those doors scares us. But Jesus stands among us, resurrecting faith in the one he calls Father.

Jesus said to the disciples again, “Peace be with you. As the Father sent me, so I am sending you.” Then he breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive anyone’s sins, they are forgiven; if you don’t forgive them, they aren’t forgiven.”

Behind these closed doors Jesus stands among us, speaks to us, breathes on us, and empowers us to enter into the world from which we have tried to hide. The same breath that filled the dust of Adam with life, the same Spirit that hovered over the waters at creation, the same Son who died on the cross, the same voice that on Easter Morning called Mary by name charges us to step out from behind our closed doors and release people from their bondage to sin.

When we think of sin, it’s easy to picture a long list of what we have done wrong, but the writer of John’s gospel has a different understanding of sin. For John, sin isn’t an action, it’s a reality that holds us captive from the God who would stand among us. Immersed in John’s understanding, “Forgiveness of sins is not about the act of penance in relation to individual deeds. Rather, forgiveness of sins is the community’s Spirit-empowered mission to continue Jesus’ work of making God known in the world.1” Jesus breathes on them, charges them to receive the Holy Sprit, and make God’s intervention known throughout the whole world. Empowered by the Holy Spirit, the disciples are filled with joy, and can take their testimony out from behind the closed doors.

We have seen the Lord, and yet we gather behind closed doors, because what lies outside those doors scares us. But Jesus stands among us, resurrecting faith in the one he calls Father. Our God will not be shut out.

Our God will not even be shut out by Thomas, the one called Didymus, one of the Twelve. He too has seen the Lord, crucified, dead, and buried. Thomas, whose memory is still wet from his master kneeling down and washing his feet, still hears the disciples’ testimony as idle talk. He wasn’t with them, gathered behind those closed doors, when Jesus came.

The other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord!” But Thomas replied, “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands, put my finger in the wounds left by the nails, and put my hands in his side, I won’t believe.”

Doubting Thomas we call him. We call him. Scripture gives us a list of his aliases: Thomas, the one called Didymus, one of the Twelve. But never called the one who doubted, because Thomas only demands what the other disciples have already received: a physical encounter with the risen Christ.

Eight days after their encounter with the risen Christ, his disciples were again in a house, and Thomas was with them.

We have seen the Lord, and yet we gather behind closed doors, because what lies outside those doors scares us. But Jesus stands among us, resurrecting faith in the one he calls Father. Our God will not be shut out, not even by us.

Even though the doors were locked, Jesus entered and stood among them. Even though we have seen the Lord, we still gather behind closed doors. This time, we go even farther, they are locked behind us so that maybe the darkness can be kept outside.

But this is the Gospel according to John, and in the Gospel according to John, a light shines in the darkness, and the darkness doesn’t extinguish the light.

Even though the doors are locked, in a futile attempt to hold back the darkness, the light of the world enters and stands among us. The light which shines in the darkness will not be shut out. Even though we have retreated further into our fear, even though we have settled back into the bondage of our sin, even though we hide from the filling joy of Easter for fear that we will just be emptied again at another crucifixion, Jesus enters and stands among us, breaking through the barriers we have set up because we think they protect us, when all they do is separate us from God. But Jesus enters and stands among us, because our God will not even be shut out by us.

He said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here. Look at my hands. Put your hand into my side. No more disbelief. Believe!”

Lest Thomas believe the darkness of Good Friday has been erased, Jesus says “Put your finger here. Look at my hands.” Lest Thomas believe that the light that shines forth throughout our Easter season is some sort of trick, Jesus says, “Put your hand into my side.” Lest we believe our whole world is lost to chaos and fear, Jesus says, “No more disbelief. Believe!”

We have seen the Lord, and yet we gather behind closed doors, because what lies outside those doors scares us. But Jesus stands among us, resurrecting faith in the one he calls Father. Our God will not be shut out, not even by us. God is with us always.

Without even waiting to touch the wounds, Thomas responds to Jesus, “My Lord and my God!” His experience of Christ is undeniable, and his belief is immediate. Thomas, who still believed himself captive to sin, is set free by the God who enters through a locked door and presents himself with his wounds still open, so that Thomas is presented with the reality of God’s refusal to abandon him. Thomas, the one called Didymus, one of the Twelve, takes his testimony beyond the disciples’ assertion of having seen the Lord, and intensifies it into a confession of belief in a God who is with him always. Thomas, whom we called Doubter, responds to Jesus, “My Lord and my God!”

Jesus replies, with a knowing smile I imagine, “Do you believe because you see me? Happy are those who don’t see and yet believe.” It is easy to believe when we see God standing before us, shining in the glory of Easter’s resurrection. It is easy to believe when the blessings of God are so evident in our lives. It is easy to believe when all seems right with the world.

But that is not always the season in which our narratives find us

We gather behind closed doors when we are in a season of overwrought obligations, or a season of legal troubles, or a season of addiction, or of families that we are trying to hold together with both hands. When we are in seasons of locks which separate us, whether they are locks forged in despair, or anger, or fear, then it is hard to believe. When we are in seasons that have caused us to close ourselves off, whether it’s anxiety over not having enough money, or feeling lost and directionless, or even being constantly overwhelmed by the pressures of the grades you’ve been told will shape the rest of your life, then it is hard to believe. Even when it is hard to believe, and irrespective of the anxiety that we think locks us away from God, Jesus enters and stands among us.

We have seen the Lord, and yet we gather behind closed doors, because what lies outside those doors scares us. But Jesus stands among us, resurrecting faith in the one he calls Father. Our God will not be shut out, not even by us. God is with us always, revealed in Christ our Lord.

If you want to know what lengths God will traverse in order to stand among us, look at the life of Jesus: Through all the wonders, all the people he heals, his life leads him not to the foot of the cross, but to be executed upon it, crying out of the depths of despair that too often our brothers and sisters, or perhaps we ourselves, also have known, “My God, my God! Why have you abandoned me?” When that death could not contain him, he rose again from the dead, and when we gather behind closed doors, even though they may be locked, they will not stand in the way of the God who descended into hell so that we might never experience total separation from God. These locks will not shut out the God who broke the power of sin and death so that we might walk in newness of life. God does not and will not leave our side, even though darkness may close in all around us. Even if we feel cut off from Easter’s joy, God comes in to where we have locked ourselves away and says “Peace be with you.”

We have seen the Lord, and yet we gather behind closed doors, because what lies outside those doors scares us. But Jesus stands among us, resurrecting faith in the one he calls Father. Our God will not be shut out, not even by us. God is with us always, revealed in Christ our Lord, made known through the power of the Holy Spirit.

And that unfailing love which refuses to leave our side, sends us out into the world, empowered by the Holy Spirit, so that we participate in the process of loving God’s people, and so that we may tell all of the people of God that we no longer need to gather behind closed doors, that through Jesus the Christ, who is God’s Son, our refrain has been transformed:

We have seen the Lord, and so we gather around a table, because the community gathered here is founded on love. And Jesus stands among us, resurrecting faith in the one he calls Father. Our God will not let us go, even though we are broken. God loves us always, made known in Christ through the power of the Holy Spirit.

Amen.

Spanking God's Children

"God's justice gives people not what they deserve, but what they need." - Shirley Guthrie, Christian Doctrine

I used the above line in my sermon yesterday. After worship, during the handshaking period, a congregant came up to me and asked me a question:

"What if what we need and we deserve are the same thing?"

My answer: "Then that's what we get."

I used the Guthrie quotation in the context of receiving grace, rather than punishment for our sins. I think that's a large part of the good news of God. We deserve death, but in Jesus Christ, we are given life instead. That grace empowers us to encounter a world that is still tainted by its own limitations and sins. We can go boldly into the world and know that no matter what happens, God will not give up on us. Grace is a huge part of my theology, and I think it's one of the central traits of Christianity.

But I think from time to time we need a wake-up call.

Just as a loving parent will discipline their children, God's loving judgement is visited upon us. Sometimes, what we need is a taste of what we deserve. We receive that wake up call because we need it, and the fact that it's what we deserve is a coincidence, not a cause. In the same passage on which I preached, Jesus asserts that those who lift themselves up will be brought low. My interpretation of that statement is a warning that from time to time, when we forget that we need God, we will find ourselves faced with a harsh reminder.

I'm not sure of the source, but I have heard it said that the task of preaching is to "comfort the afflicted, and afflict the comfortable." It is not my place to judge who is whom, but I think that both are necessary.

I wonder, Does the Church spoil God's children when it preaches only grace, and omits how badly we need it?

Crowd-Sourced Exegesis: Why do this?

I have long said that if there is a specificity to my calling, I believe it is preaching. In my preaching class at Columbia Theological Seminary, the professors encouraged us to get input on our sermons from as many different sources as possible. This practice serves a two-fold purpose, it guards against our own biases and potential cultural insensitivity, and it gives us new perspectives on the text which makes for better preaching.

 So last April, I was preaching on a text that had me stumped. So I decided, as I often do, to ask the internet.

 Crowd-Sourcing has been shown time and again to come up with better solutions to almost any problem placed before it. And yet the image people have of sermon writing is that a preacher locks herself in her study for six hours and comes out with a brilliant (or not) sermon ready for Sunday morning. The problem with this model is that only the preacher gets to have that relationship with the text.

I'm not satisfied with that.

I think the body of Christ should all be intimately involved with the scripture that we have held up as a unique and authoritative witness. I want to train people to think about scripture and to relate it to their own lives.

While it is certainly important for me, as a preacher, to maintain that relationship as well and to model that for congregants, the best way to teach this kind of skill is to ask people to do it.

Also, it makes for a better sermon. Because the sermon is not about me. It's about God. And the Holy Spirit, ideally, is moving through me in the preaching moment, and in the sermon writing. But I firmly believe that the Holy Spirit speaks through those around us, so this crowd-sourced exegesis asks for exactly that.

So help my write my sermons. Not because I am out of ideas, but because I firmly believe that you have something to say. Here's a place to say it.