Morning Routine

Luke 13:10-17

¹⁰Jesus was teaching in one of the synagogues on the Sabbath. ¹¹A woman who was there had been disabled by a spirit for eighteen years. She was bent over and couldn’t stand up straight. ¹²When he saw her, Jesus called her to him and said, “Woman, you are set free of your sickness.” ¹³He placed his hands on her and she straightened up at once and praised God.

¹⁴The synagogue leader, incensed that Jesus had healed on the Sabbath, responded, “There are six days during which work is permitted. Come and be healed on those days, not on the Sabbath day.”

¹⁵The Lord replied, “Hypocrites! Don’t each of you on the Sabbath untie your ox or donkey from its stall and lead it out to get a drink? ¹⁶Then isn’t it necessary that this woman, a daughter of Abraham, bound by Satan for eighteen long years, be set free from her bondage on the Sabbath day?” ¹⁷When he said these things, all his opponents were put to shame, but all those in the crowd rejoiced at all the extraordinary things he was doing.

This is the Word of the Lord

Thanks be to God

In all the religious art I’ve seen displayed in churches and museums, I’ve not once seen a painting of Jesus getting ready in the morning. I’ve never seen him depicted brushing his teeth, or fixing a cup of coffee, or stubbornly hitting the snooze button on his alarm time after time. But along with being fully God, he is also fully human. I’m sure he woke up with morning breath, or a little sore from sleeping wrong. He went through a morning routine similar to what each of us did today. Every seventh day, wherever he was, his morning routine shifted slightly. Rather than preparing for his work of preaching, teaching, and healing, he went to the local synagogue: that’s what a Rabbi does on the Sabbath.

I don’t think Jesus went into the synagogue saying “I’m going to shake things up around here.” I don’t think Jesus woke up that Sabbath morning and thought “I’m going to change the way people think about the law today.” I think Jesus went through that Sabbath morning routine in much the same way he always did. When he got to the synagogue, he began to teach.

Then he saw a woman who was there.

This woman had been disabled by a spirit for eighteen years. During that time, everything about her life was colored by her disability. People looked at her differently, people treated her differently, the synagogue leader changed his behavior around her. She had to alter herself as well, as once simple tasks became increasingly impossible. Her morning routine now was less about preparing for her day and more about coping with the obstacles her disability brought to her. Though every action is difficult and painful work, she is still able to attend her synagogue on the sabbath. After eighteen years, I cannot imagine she went each week expecting that she would be healed. After almost a thousand sabbaths, she just went because that’s what one does.

Then an unfamiliar Rabbi named Jesus called her to him.

Scripture makes no mention of a cane, a crutch, or a walker. It doesn’t indicate if she’s elderly, or if she has any family to help her. Scripture says she was bent over, and couldn’t stand up straight. When he saw her, Jesus called her to him.

Jesus doesn’t walk over to her and lift her up. Neither does he just heal her from a distance. He sees her, and calls her forward. I wonder how far back in the congregation this woman who had been disabled by a spirit for eighteen years sat. I wonder how long it took her bent body to get up. I wonder how many steps it took her to come from her seat in the congregation to where Jesus was teaching. I wonder how much anxious shuffling, and uncomfortable coughing tried to mask the awkward silence as Jesus waited for this woman who had been disabled to come to him. I wonder if the woman felt afraid that this strange Rabbi would call her a sinner, and say that she deserved her disability, that is was a punishment for some hidden wrong.

The tension in the room builds with each painful step, until Jesus says “Woman, you are set free of your sickness.” Then he puts his hands on her and she straightened up at once and praised God.

The synagogue leader, attending to the behind-the-scenes details of worship leadership, probably didn’t notice what was happening at first. His morning routine had already been disrupted by this traveling holy man who was teaching in his synagogue. After all, when this Jesus character taught in the synagogue in Nazareth, they ran him out of town. The synagogue leader may have only known him by his reputation as one who regularly upended the social order. I wonder if he was lost in his own thoughts and worries about how to make the worship service go as smoothly as possible in the presence of this unknown variable of a Rabbi.

Nothing will get people’s attention as quickly as a sudden silence. Lost in his own thoughts, the synagogue leader is caught off guard by the long dramatic pause in the middle of the service, and looks up just in time to see Jesus touch a woman, and she straightened up at once and praised God.

Where the gospel writer saw a miracle, this well-meaning community leader saw the potential for swarms of sick and suffering people to clog the synagogue asking for healing that was beyond his power, and nobody in the community could come and worship the God of their ancestors, who released them from bondage in Egypt.

I wonder if his statement is meant to prevent that situation, to keep the sabbath holy, and not to be a stage for people to call attention to themselves. Either sick people who just want a quick-fix rather than real healing, or people who claim to have special healing powers can quickly take the focus of a worship service off of God and onto themselves. He makes an announcement to try and protect worship, promising to attend to the needs of the sick as best he can during the week, “There are six days on which work is permitted. Come and be healed on those days, not on the Sabbath day.”

Jesus, on the other hand, will not stand for it. Where the synagogue leader saw a legal snare, or a worship disruption, where the gospel writer sees a miracle, Jesus sees a woman who, after eighteen years, is finally set free from her sickness. So he directs the focus of the moment away from the law, and back to her. “Don’t each of you on the Sabbath untie your ox or donkey from its stall and lead it out to get a drink? Then isn’t it necessary that this woman, a daughter of Abraham...be set free from her bondage on the Sabbath day?” This is not about legal loopholes or keeping your worship time in pristine order, this is about a woman, a daughter of Abraham, who has now been set free.

Brilliant scholars and biblical thinkers, when writing about this passage, tend to focus on either Sabbath law or on the culture of the synagogue. Concerning themselves with unpacking what could be discovered in the first sentence of the passage “Jesus was teaching in one of the synagogues on the Sabbath.” Jesus, on the other hand, seems to pay very little attention to the nuance of the law, and even less to the maintenance of dignified worship. Jesus pays attention to the woman. Christ refuses to look away from this beloved daughter of Abraham, he restores the image of God in her. What’s more, he shows her humanity to the community of faith. “Look!” He says, “This is what humanity looks like, full of praise for God in whose image we are all created! This is what God intends, not bent suffering, but glorifying God and enjoying him forever!”

Because his emphasis on humanity is part of Jesus. It’s easy to look straight to the cross, to see the substitution made on our behalf, or to look straight to the resurrection, and see sin and death defeated for all time. But Jesus also came to reestablish what it means to be human. A human is someone who is cherished by God. That is the root of our identity, not our successes or failures, but the truth that God loves us.

That’s why everything that Christ does in this story calls attention to a woman who is first in bondage, then set free. Jesus restores humanity to people, taking them from their sins and brokenness and completing them, that they may be called Children of the Living God.

This is one of many stories where Jesus points to God by directing focus to the people he meets, and refusing to let them be overlooked any longer. After eighteen years with her disability, I’m sure this daughter of Abraham felt invisible to the faith community. Sure, they may support her financially, but they treat her as a burden, not as a person.

A seminary professor was at the grocery store, and having a rough day. By the time he got to the check out counter, he was already running late to a faculty meeting. He was behind a woman whose payment card had been declined, and who was trying to decide which of her necessary items she would do without this week. He impatiently growled “I’ll pay for it.” And handed the cash to the clerk. As he began patting himself on the back for helping a needy person, he heard the woman say to the clerk with a hollow sound in her voice, “He didn’t even look at me.”

He treated her as a problem to be solved, rather than as a person to be loved. I wonder if that professor felt the same shame as Jesus’s opponents.

The synagogue leader and the seminary professor both focused on the problems with which they were presented. But in so doing, they missed out on the people God had placed in their lives. They stumbled over the obstacles in their morning routine, rather than loving the person they had stumbled across.

Jesus restores humanity to its noble image-of-God origins, rather than the sin-tainted state it had become. Just as he freed the woman in the synagogue from the bonds of her sickness, so he has freed us from the bonds of sin and death. With Christ as the model of what it means to be human, we can see the beauty in a varied and diverse humanity, that irrespective of the differences in our morning routines, we are all created in the image of a God who loves us and intervenes in our lives, even when we cannot see how.

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?

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.

#Witness

#Witness from Joseph Taber on Vimeo.

Isaiah 43:8-13

⁸Bring out the blind people

who have eyes,

the deaf ones who have ears. 

⁹All the nations are gathered together,

the peoples are assembled.

Which of them announced this?

Who predicted to us the past events?

Let them bring their witnesses 

as a defense;

let them hear and say, “It’s true!”

¹⁰You are my witnesses, say the LORD,

my servant whom I chose,

so that you would

know and believe me

and understand that I am the one.

Before me no god was formed;

after me there has been no other.

¹¹I, I am the LORD,

and there is no savior besides me.

¹²I announced, I saved, I proclaimed,

not some stranger among you.

You are my witnesses, says the LORD,

and I am God.

¹³From the dawn of time, I am the one.

No one can escape my power.

I act, and who can undo it?

This is the Word of the Lord,

Thanks be to God

John 9:1-7, 24-38

¹As Jesus walked along, he saw a man who was blind from birth. ²Jesus’ disciples asked, “Rabbi, who sinned so that he was born blind, this man or his parents?”

³Jesus answered, “Neither him nor his parents. This happened so that God’s mighty works might be displayed in him. ⁴While it’s daytime, we must do the works of him who sent me. Night is coming when no one can work. ⁵While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.”

⁶After he said this, he spit on the ground, made mud with the saliva, and smeared the mud on the man’s eyes. ⁷Jesus said to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” (this word means sent). So the man went away and washed. When he returned, he could see.

²⁴Therefore, [The Jewish Leaders] called a second time for the man who had been born blind and said to him, “Give glory to God. We know this man[Jesus] is a sinner.”

²⁵The man answered, “I don’t know whether he’s a sinner. Here’s what I do know: I was blind, and now I see.”

²⁶They questioned him, “What did he do to you? How did he heal your eyes?”

²⁷He replied, “I already told you, and you didn’t listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you want to become his disciple too?”

²⁸They insulted him: “You are his disciple, but we are Moses’ disciples. 29We know that God spoke to Moses, but we don’t know where this man is from.”

³⁰The man answered, “This is incredible! You don’t know where he is from, yet he healed my eyes! ³¹We know that God doesn’t listen to sinners. God listens to anyone who is devout and does God’s will. ³²No one has ever heard of a healing of the eyes of someone born blind. ³³If this man wasn’t from God, he couldn’t do this.”

³⁴They responded, “You were born completely in sin! How is it that you dare to teach us?” Then they expelled him.

³⁵Jesus heard they had expelled the man born blind. Finding him, Jesus said, “Do you believe in the [Son of Man]?”

³⁶He answered, “Who is he, sir? I want to believe in him.”

³⁷Jesus said, “You have seen him. In fact, he is the one speaking with you.”

³⁸The man said, “Lord, I believe.” And he worshipped Jesus.

This is the Word of the Lord

Thanks be to God

For two thousand years we’ve heard stories of the light of the world who came into the world. For two thousand years we’ve heard stories of darkness that cannot understand the light. For two thousand years we’ve heard stories of the blind and lame and sick and dying being healed.

And for two thousand years we have continued to have people grow sick, for two thousand years we have had people go blind. For two thousand years we have lived with the symptoms of our slavery to sin. For two thousand years we have wondered why it still hurts so much if our salvation has already been accomplished.

For two thousand years we have had brutal wars that spanned across the world that Jesus came to save. For two thousand years we have had diseases that spread throughout nations. For two thousand years we have had towns cry out in terror when their children were victims of violence in the very places we build to teach and protect them. For two thousand years we have witnessed loved ones descend into their own personal darknesses of fear, weakness, and despair.

And after two thousand years of hearing one story and having another thrust in front of us, it is easy to forget, to lose interest, to get distracted, and to no longer wish to see.

For two thousand years we have walked with these two stories competing to shape our reality. I don’t think that one story is more real than the other, I think it’s terribly insensitive to tell someone who is grieving, or hurting, or in pain that their suffering is not real. Because it is real. Sometimes the darkness is blindingly real. In those moments we need someone to tell us a story that we cannot believe, because we’re still blind, even though we have eyes, and we’re still deaf, even though we have ears.

The story we cannot believe comes to us from the great cloud of witnesses who hold us up, from those who have a vision of what God is doing in the world, and describe it to us, enabling us to move forward in service to a God who faithfully holds us up even when all we see is our stumbling.

Heirs to two thousand years of church missteps and faithfulness, You, St. Andrew’s Presbyterian Church, are God’s witnesses. God’s servant, whom he chose, so that you would know and believe God, and understand that God is the one.

Grammar nerd that I am, I love that while “witnesses” is plural, “servant” is singular. How’s that for what it means to be the church. As we discern what our guiding vision for the next chapter of our life together should be, we have in this passage a description of us both as individuals and as a collective.

Each of us, individually, are God’s witnesses, because not only have we seen the work that our God has done, and is doing, we are called to testify on God’s behalf. This courtroom language is not accidental, because like the man born blind, our truth, our whole truth, is that we were blind, and now we can see. Because the light of the world came into the world, and God’s mighty works are displayed in us.

But together, the people who are St. Andrew’s Presbyterian Church are God’s servant. As a body of witnesses, we are the body of Christ, not each going our own way, but coming together as a servant of our LORD, who’s mighty works are displayed throughout the history we have been given.

Verse 11 of our old testament lesson proclaims “I, I am the LORD, and there is no savior besides me.” This isn’t the word of a god who built a world and then let it spin on without intervention, the same voice that speaks into being things which do not exist, who told Pharaoh to let his people go, comes to earth as a human in Christ Jesus, bringing sight to a man born blind, not as a magic trick, but as a restoration from the darkness he had always known, into the light that he had no way to understand.

Because when you’re born blind, it’s not a return to sight, there’s no memory of what a face or a building looks like, you’re starting from scratch. Going from that kind of darkness to the light that Jesus provides him is an entirely new way of living that doesn’t play by the same rules as your old existence.

The man born blind has a stranger rub spit-mud into his eyes, then sends him to a pool to wash. When he comes out, his old world of darkness is gone, and now he doesn’t fit into his old niche, and there is not a comfortable new role for him to easily slide into.

Because he cannot deny what God has done for him, he is a witness to the one who not only restores sight, but creates it where it had never been before. The man himself testifies to that in verses 31 and 32: We know that God doesn't listen to sinners. God listens to anyone who is devout and does God's will. No one has ever heard of a healing of the eyes of someone born blind. This is what we think we know about God, that if you’re good, you’ll have your prayers answered, and if you’re bad, God won’t give you what you want.

That’s not a description of God, that’s a description of Santa Claus. And after two thousand years of hearing stories of healing the eyes of those born blind, I expect more of my God than a naughty and nice list. After two thousand years of having people want things that are destructive, I expect more of my God than to give me what I want. After two thousand years of having brokenness so apparent in our world I expect more of my God than to just fix my problems. After two thousand years, I expect my God to break forth as a beauteous heavenly light and to usher in the morning. After two thousand years I expect my God to shine in the darkness, because the darkness cannot overcome it.

You, you are the LORD, and there is no savior besides you. And though we were born completely in sin, we would dare to be taught by you, because you are the God who works wonders, even in such broken mediums as the witnesses you have appointed, even in such weak voices as the servant whom you chose.

Because when you’re born in sin, it’s not a return to righteousness, there’s no ability to act in a way that’s fully acceptable in God’s sight, even our best acts are still touched by our brokenness. Going from this kind of darkness to the light that Jesus provides is an entirely new way of living that doesn’t play by the same rules as our old existence.

God works through those who despair to show the depth of the hope we have in Jesus Christ. God works through those who are weak to show the vastness of God’s strength to hold us up. God works through those who are paralyzed by fear to show the heights of God’s faithfulness enacted on our behalf.

Though we are heirs to a broken world, and deserve the consequences of the world in which we live, we are wrapped in the righteousness of Christ, and made fellow heirs to a light that is beyond what we can imagine. That is the action we have witnessed, that we are rescued from our darkness before we even know what it means to be light.

The LORD speaks through Isaiah, From the dawn of time, I am the one. No one can escape my power. I act, and who can undo it?

From the coming of Christ’s light into the world, God is the one who announced, saved, and proclaimed, not some stranger. No one can escape from God’s power to bring light where there was only darkness, when God acts, no one can undo it. We must stand, then, as witnesses of God’s mighty acts, even when we do not know or understand.

The man born blind didn’t understand, no one had ever heard of a healing of the eyes of a man born blind. He didn’t even know what the man who had healed him looked like, it was only after he washed that he was able to see. He didn’t even know if the man who healed him was a sinner. 

But here’s what he did know, that he was blind, and now he saw. Beginning with that simple witness, he was able to affirm that if the man who healed him had not been from God, he couldn’t do this. He moves from the change he sees in himself to making a powerful claim about who his savior was: God, acting through this man who he did not know.

He believes his claim so fervently that he holds onto it even when the leaders of his community cast him out.

Jesus heard they had expelled the man born blind. Finding him, Jesus said, "Do you believe in the Son of Man?”

Jesus hears what has happened to his blind witness, and he doesn’t abandon him, he goes and finds him. He finds him shaken, he finds him questioning his faith, he finds him as abandoned by his community as when he was still blind, he finds him afraid, and weak, and close to despair, and Jesus asks him to give his witness statement once more. Do you, my servant whom I chose, know and believe me and understand that the Son of Man is the one?

He answered, “Who is he, sir? I want to believe in him.”

To the prophet Isaiah, the Lord said I announced, I saved, I proclaimed, not some stranger among you. Because it hasn’t been just two thousand years, God has been active for ten thousand, and the light of the world shining brighter than the sun. From the foundation of the world God has saved and proclaimed and been intimately involved with his witnesses and servant, like a mother who will not forsake her nursing child God speaks comfort to my people Israel. Because even though we may not know Christ while he is doing the work of the Father who sent him, to the prophet Isaiah, the LORD says, I announced, I saved, I proclaimed, not some stranger among you.

And to a man born blind, Jesus says, “You have seen him.”

To a man born blind, who can count on two hands the number of faces he has seen in his life, to a man born blind, who cannot go home and resume his lifestyle of begging because the Son of Man has changed the nature of his existence, to a man born blind who began with an observation and moved to an affirmation that his healer was from God, to a man born blind, Jesus says, “You have seen him. In fact, he is the one speaking with you.”

The man said, “Lord, I believe.” And he worshipped Jesus.

We don’t know what happens to this man after this chapter ends. Perhaps he is restored to his place in the community, perhaps he learns a trade and remembers who’s action he has witnessed. We don’t know if he goes on to start a family, or if he sneaks into another story somewhere later in the bible. After two thousand years, We don’t know how this witness’s testimony changes his life.

We don’t know how God’s intervention in our lives will change the nature of our servanthood. We don’t know what mighty works God will choose to display in us as we act on our visioning process. We don’t know what programs will flourish, or decline, or even what programs we’ll have to say “no” to.

After two thousand years, here’s what we do know: though we were blind, we have eyes, and though we were deaf, we have ears. And we have seen the LORD.

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?

Do Justice (Luke 18:9-14)

Do Justice (Luke 18:9-14) from Joseph Taber on Vimeo.

Luke 18: 9-14

⁹Jesus told this parable to certain people who had convinced themselves that they were righteous and who looked down on everyone else with disgust. ¹⁰Two people went up to the temple to pray. One was a Pharisee and the other a Tax-Collector. 11The Pharisee stood and prayed about himself with these words: “God, I thank you that I’m not like everyone else - crooks, evildoers, adulterers - or even like this tax collector. ¹²I fast twice a week. I give a tenth of everything I receive.” ¹³But the Tax Collector stood at a distance. He wouldn’t even lift his eyes to look toward heaven. Rather he struck his chest and said, “God, show mercy to me, a sinner.” ¹⁴I tell you, this person went down to his home justified rather than the Pharisee. All who lift themselves up will be brought low, and those who make themselves low will be lifted up.

This is the word of the Lord

Thanks be to God.

I do not yet know the joys of parenthood, and one of the many of reasons I am somewhat wary of those “joys” is the often repeated truism that children are a grandparent’s revenge.

I have no doubt that my parents will love and adore their future, hypothetical, grandchildren. But I have had that awful curse placed upon me, “One day I hope you have a child that is just like you.”

Now my Dad, when my brother and I were very small, did as many young parents do, and called the ones who raised him for advice on a regular basis. Usually the calls were practical. You see, in addition to having raised two sons, my Grandfather is also a medical doctor, and basically knows everything. But on occasions, my loving and patient father would find himself caught in a battle of wills with myself or my brother, and one such event called for a telephone conversation. It’s a conversation that has passed into legend in our family, the time my Dad called Granddaddy and said, “Daddy, my son is the most stubborn, pertinacious, bull-headed person I have ever met.” There was a long pause, and when my Grandfather replied, it began with a sigh, and ended with the grateful prayer, “There is Justice.”

There is justice. We talk about it as a state of being, a trait of the kingdom of God, and in the context of our Micah passage, something we do. God has shown you what is good, and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice... The Lord requires you to do Justice.

Justice, when you get what’s coming to you. Justice is when one acts rightly, one is rewarded, and when one acts wrongly, one is punished. We take it as a law of nature that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. When the bullied kid turns around and knocks the bully down with one good punch, that’s justice. Isn’t it? We start off in a place where if we are the victim, that means we get to hit back. We didn’t start this fight, but we will finish it, and justice will prevail.

And from that understanding of our own righteousness, we come to Luke’s gospel. Jesus told this parable to certain people who had convinced themselves that they were righteous. Now if y’all are anything like me, as soon as I read that phrase, someone popped into your head. The other political party, the other sports fans, the other social circle, the other, the other, the other, always the other. They’re the ones who look down on everyone else with disgust. They may have the high ground right now, but Justice is on its way.

Jesus begins his parable, “Two people went up to the temple to pray.” Ooh, two people, I’m in the second group I bet, the one that turns out to be right all along, because I’m one of Jesus’s good followers, a faithful disciple, I’m convinced that I’m going to end up on the right side of these two people: A Pharisee and a Tax Collector.

Now we know that the Pharisee’s don’t often end up as the good guys in the stories Jesus tells, so much so that we’ve forgotten how radical these stories are. The Pharisees are the leaders of the faith community to whom Jesus is preaching. In Luke 13, just a few chapters ago, they warn Jesus about a plot against his life. Pharisees aren’t the bad guys by a long stretch. They are the leaders in maintaining their cultural identity in the face of an occupying Roman government.

The tax collector, on the other hand, is the man who stands between an oppressed Jewish people and the occupying Romans, not as a protector of the people, but as one who benefits from the injustice of the system the Romans have imposed. He’s not a popular guy in town. The tax collector sells out his own people to the powerful empire that has Israel under its thumb. He may not be the bad guy, but for the people to whom Jesus told this parable, the tax collector is certainly working for them.

Y’all, I’m going to be honest. In this story, I’m the Pharisee. Maybe that’s why I want so badly for him to be the good guy. Listen to his prayer: “God I thank you that I’m not like everyone else - crooks, evildoers, adulterers, - or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week, I give a tenth of everything I receive.” He’s thanking God for making him an exceptional example of what a faithful follower of God looks like. What else could I want but to be a model Christian, following Christ’s call to love as we have first been loved? I want to be good. Thank you God for giving me the opportunity to go to school and learn about your Word, Thank you God for putting these people in my life so that I could hear your word speaking through them. Thank you God for not making me a crook, an evildoer, an adulterer. Thank you, God, for helping me to do justice.

Would any of us really pray the opposite? “God, please make me more like that other sinful person.” This Pharisee is grateful to God, which is not a bad place to start, but his gratitude is that he can do justice on his own, without God’s help. I’ve heard so many of our private prayers that are bargains with God. “Oh God, if you’ll heal this person, I’ll never speak badly of others again.” “God, if you get me out of this, I’ll never ask you for anything again.” They’re all variations of the same theme, “God, if you give me grace this time, I promise not to need it quite so badly.” When we pray like this, we are saying to God that we are righteous enough that we can somehow pay God back for what God has done for us. “God, I need you to solve this problem for me, but I can do the rest on my own.” Like a willful child crying out that I can do it, even if I clearly cannot, I walk into this church a Pharisee, wanting to stand on my own two feet. Wanting to be the one who stands against the injustices of the world. Grateful for the opportunity and ability to Do Justice as God requires, wanting to do it all by myself.

But then there’s that other character in this story. The Tax collector is burdened by the oppressive system in which he is a participant. He knows he benefits from the way things are right now, and he knows that his people are suffering, and that he has a hand in it. He is not acting justly, because Justice means that he is no longer on top. He has raised himself up by doing business with those who are occupying the promised land. Justice means that our unrighteous tax collector must fall. Jesus doesn’t deny or excuse the sins of the tax collector. They are still sins. We don’t get any indication that he lives his life differently after he goes to temple to pray. His prayer is simple and heartfelt, “God, show mercy to me, a sinner.” He knows he is not worthy of God’s mercy, he won’t even lift his gaze, but all he has left is the hope that maybe, maybe...

Maybe, as one theologian wrote, “God’s justice gives people not what they deserve, but what they need.”

 We do not need to have our righteousness confirmed. We do not need for God to make us happy and fix all our problems. We do not need God to bless us with wealth and power. Because while we may be the Pharisee, wanting to be the one who does the right thing, and wanting to be able to do what God tells us we should do, we are also the Tax Collector. We benefit at the expense of others.

Two complicated characters, the one who does everything right and has convinced himself that he is righteous, and the broken sinner who cannot will himself out of his unjustly won position and knows how badly he needs God’s Grace. Sometimes we’re one, sometimes the other. It’s not cut and dried. It’s not black and white. But it is simple. God’s Grace is what justifies us, not our “righteous living.” God’s grace, as simple as that.

So then do we do nothing? Give nothing? Do we let God’s grace fall upon us without a response? What do you think? God has shown you what is good. God has shown us grace, A grace that we poor sinners need, not the righteous condemnation we so richly deserve. The call to action, the call to “Do Justice” cannot be ignored. To paraphrase James Cone, “What could love possibly mean in an unjust society except the righteous condemnation of everything unjust?”

But the story about my father and Granddaddy didn’t stay with us because Daniel and I were his revenge. The story is important to us because his sigh was colored with a grin that recognized my Dad’s struggle as a new father, and his prayer spoke comforting words that the love we share is stronger even than our stubbornness. There is Justice, and it comes out of the free gift of God’s grace. God is loving, slow to anger, and quick to forgive. God’s justice begins and ends with grace. God’s righteous love is relentlessly transformative, and to resist that transformation is to resist God’s love. 

So we start with God’s irresistible  grace, given freely to undeserving sinners such as ourselves, and from there we are empowered to act. Not because we are no longer sinners, but because we know that when our feeble attempts to enact God’s justice fail, that God’s grace is there to take up the slack, the little we are able to do only goes to show what God is capable of doing. We lift ourselves up, praying about ourselves with these words, “God, thank you for making me so awesome.” We give money that keeps the lamps in the temple burning, money that goes to feed the poor, we rely on our gifts and abilities to convince ourselves that we are righteous.

And in those moments we find ourselves brought low again, standing at distance, unable to meet the gaze of our loving heavenly father, beating our chest and saying “God, show mercy to me, a sinner.” Having made ourselves low, God lifts us up and transforms our pained groans into hymns of praise. For the justice of the Lord flows down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.

As we see God take our fallen efforts and reshape them toward justice, we know that we cannot use the gifts God has given us to buy our way into God’s good graces. It is God’s good Grace that has bought us. And in that grace, we are empowered to do what God has shown us is good: To Do Justice, Love Kindness, and Walk humbly with our God.