Fifth Sunday in Lent

John 12:20-33

20 Now among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks. 21 They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and said to him, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” 22 Philip went and told Andrew; then Andrew and Philip went and told Jesus. 23 Jesus answered them, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. 24 Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. 25 Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.

26 Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, God will honor.
27 Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say—‘God, save me from this hour’? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour. 28 God, glorify your name.” Then a voice came from heaven, “I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.” 29 The crowd standing there heard it and said that it was thunder. Others said, “An angel has spoken to him.” 30 Jesus answered, “This voice has come for your sake, not for mine. 31 Now is the judgment of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. 32 And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.” 33 Jesus said this to indicate the kind of death he was to die.

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Please pray with me this morning, church:

Liberating God,

Our lives are full.

We carry so much around.

So much weighs us down.

Help us set down what’s not ours to carry.

Help us to unburden ourselves.

Use us to bear fruit in the world.

Amen.

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When I was serving my pastoral internship in Chicago, my supervisor had this thing that he’d always say to me. And he’d say it at really inconvenient times, like when I was really worked up about something, or someone or something had really gotten under my skin. He would say, “Remember…hold all things loosely.”

Hold all things loosely… Pfffttt…

What does that even mean…?

He would go on, “Whether praise or criticism, hold it all loosely.”

What he meant, and what I still strive to remember, is that someone’s praise or criticism is not what defines us. Ultimately, that does not tell the entire truth of who we are. Particularly in pastoral ministry, you’ll do things and say things and make decisions that some will be delighted by and others will be ticked off about. There’s just no way around it. You can’t please everyone, in other words.

So don’t let those things become the whole truth about yourself. Know your self well enough…be in touch with your inner self well enough—both the good and the bad—that your actions and words and decisions are made from a centered and grounded place. Not just doing and saying things that people will praise, and certainly not doing and saying things that will only ever turn people against you, but rather, be rooted and grounded in the immovable and unshakeable thing that sits apart from you.

Root and ground and center yourself in God.

That’s what is true. That’s what will guide you and direct you.

Hold all things loosely.

“Very truly I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains only a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.”

Hold all things loosely.

“Those who love their life lose it, but those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.”

Whoa……hate……?

Hate’s a really strong word…

Ha…there was a song a few years back when I was in college and one of the lines was, “Hate is a strong word, but I really, really, really don’t like you.”

Hate is a strong word.

Am I really supposed to hate my life?

That word for “hate”—miseo…you know, it’s where we get the word “misery”…miseo—“hate” is a pretty accurate translation, but it’s not so much about placing a value. Jesus isn’t talking about not valuing your life. It’s maybe more like, “those who reject their life” or “those who disregard their life” or “those who are indifferent toward their life.”

Miseo is set up as a counterbalance to the first part of the sentence; “Those who love their life lose it, but those who hate their life will keep it.” It is set up as the kind of opposing force to love, but as Nobel Laureate Elie Wiesel (probably in some way via Wilhelm Stekel) famously noted, “The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference.” At least if you say you hate something, I know where you stand.

See, miseo is the same word used in Mark, Matthew, and Luke when Jesus tells the disciples “You will be hated by all because of my name.” But what about, “You will be disregarded by all, by the world, because of me.”…? It’s also the same word used by Jesus in Matthew and Luke when he says, “You have heard it said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy,’ but I say to you Love your enemies and do good to those who hate you.” “You’ve heard it said, ‘Love your neighbor and show disregard, be indifferent toward your enemy,’ but I say to you Love your enemies, and do good to those who disregard you, who are indifferent toward you.”

Maybe it’s not so much about how much you value your life…maybe it’s more about holding onto your life loosely.

We keep such a tight death grip on parts of our lives that our hands aren’t even available for reaching out…for serving…for embracing…for loving…

We tighten our death grip and clutch these parts of our lives so close that they actually can begin to choke the life…out of us…

Whether it’s our stuff, material things, wealth, safety, security, freedom, worry, anxiety, doubt…those things become consuming and we spend so much time and effort trying to control them that they end up controlling us. We cling to them so tightly, with such a death grip…that we fail to realize that we’re the ones caught in the death grip…we’re the ones who can’t breathe…

What are you holding onto, clinging so tightly to…that you don’t have space to reach out and care for and serve your neighbor? What are the things in your life that you’re clutching so closely that’s preventing you from having the capacity to extend your hands and arms outward to embrace and love your neighbor? Your neighbor who doesn’t look like you. Your neighbor of Asian descent…who’s terrified right now, church… Your neighbor of Asian descent who’s watched hate crimes against people of Asian descent skyrocket by over 150% just in the past year…

You know, miseo is where we get “misery” but it’s also the root for “commiserate.”

“To share in those feelings of being disregarded…together…”

To sympathize. To empathize. To share your neighbors’ burdens.

But to do it…together.

Some Greeks came to Philip—the only one among the disciples who was Greek himself—and said, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus…”

We wish to see…Jesus…

When we’re available to our neighbor…when our hands and our arms are unburdened and unclenched…when we make space for others…you create the possibility that your neighbor can see Jesus through you.

What are you holding onto so tightly that prevents you from showing or offering Jesus to your neighbor?

Unless a grain of wheat falls to the earth and dies, it remains just a grain, right? But when a grain is allowed to die, it bears much fruit. If you can loosen your grip, if you can let go of the things that prevent you, if you can let those old parts of your self, those things you cling so tightly to, those things that you try so hard to control…if you can hold them loosely…if you can let those things fall to the earth and die…you allow new growth to happen and allow yourself to bear fruit.

Disciples are known by the fruit they bear. Not their dogmas and doctrines, not their piety or flashy religious practices…disciples of Christ are known by their fruit. The fruits of love and service and justice and peace. The fruits of living to and for God, and by extension, to and for your neighbors.

Hold all things loosely.

Even allow them to fall to earth and die.

We worship a God who brings life from things that are dead.

I wonder what fruit God will bring from what you let die.

Fourth Sunday in Lent

John 3:14-21

[Jesus said:] 14 “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of humanity be lifted up, 15 that whoever believes in the Son may have eternal life.
16 For God loved the world in this way, that God gave the Son, the only begotten one, so that everyone who trusts in him may not perish but may have eternal life.
17 “Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through the Son. 18 Those who believe in God’s Beloved are not condemned; but those who do not believe are condemned already, because they have not believed in the name of the begotten Son of God. 19 And this is the judgment, that the revelation of God’s glory has come into the world, and people loved evil rather than God’s glory because their deeds were evil. 20 For all who do evil hate the truth and do not come into God’s glory, so their deeds may not be exposed.

21 But those who do what is true come into God’s glory, so that it may be clearly seen that their deeds have been done in God.”

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Please pray with me this morning, church:

Liberating God,

You have given us an incredible gift.

We didn’t earn it. We don’t deserve it.

And yet you’ve given it to us still.

Help us. Show us how to respond.

Teach us how to be generous

With this gift you’ve lavished upon us.

Amen.

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You’ve heard me say it before, but I’m really not a particularly good gift-giver.

I struggle with knowing what might resonate with someone or what they might find meaningful. I tend to have some defaults, but in general, I don’t feel great about the gifts I give. It’s just not a spiritual gift of mine.

But I do like to give gifts.

Or rather, I like to give. I’m a very giving person…sometimes to a fault.

Maybe you, too, consider yourself a generous person.

For me, one of my earliest memories of learning generosity was at church, actually. Every Sunday, we’d sit together as a family, and toward the end of the sermon my dad would reach into his pocket and pull out a dollar’s worth of quarters, and I’d get 2 quarters and my sister would get 2 quarters. And I can remember how I would rub those quarters together between my fingers, and what that felt like. Then, a little after the sermon was over and we sang and prayed, it was time for the offering plates to come around, and the plates would come right in front of our noses and we’d drop our quarters in the plate.

It wasn’t much, and it wasn’t even my money, but it was an act of giving something to God…an act of giving something that I had been given and joining it with the gifts of others who were giving from what they had been given, and using our gifts together for the ministry and the life of the church.

And no…this isn’t a Stewardship sermon.

I was given those 2 quarters every week, and they weren’t mine, and I don’t even necessarily think I did anything to deserve them…maybe made my bed or something, but…it wasn’t my money. It was a gift to me, and a gift that I was expected to give.

What makes me feel so good about being generous—whether it’s with my time or my energy or my money—is how my being generous makes someone else feel. I feel good because I’ve maybe helped someone else or made them feel good. Generosity is a selfless act, focused only on the well-being of the other person, the one being served.

Generosity is giving a gift.

A gift as a response to something that you were given. Something that probably wasn’t yours in the first place. Maybe something you earned, but something you deserved…?

Generosity connected to the biblical understanding of stewardship recognizes that everything we have is a gift. Even what we’ve earned…is a gift given to us.

You have been given a gift and you are free to live a generous life as a response to the wonderful gifts you have been given.

God so loved you…

But not only “God so loved you…”, but God so loved you…and you…and them, and those people, and those other folks…indeed, God so loved…the world…

That God gave God’s son…the Begotten One…the Beloved…

That everyone who believes, everyone who has faith…that everyone who trusts…who trusts the truth of God’s great love…that everyone who puts their faith in such a love…

Would not perish…but instead would enjoy life…life everlasting…life abundant…

Indeed, God did not send the Beloved One into the world to condemn the world, but in order…so that, the world would be saved…through God’s Beloved.

God’s intention is salvation.

God’s whole plan, God’s work in the world…is about the salvation, the saving of God’s people.

God’s only interest, church, is that you would know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the depths and height and expansiveness of God’s incredible love for you, beloved child, and that that knowledge of God’s love would save you…would free you…would liberate you……from everything that keeps you locked away in those graves you seal yourself up in. Those tombs of doubt…of shame…of not-enough-ness…of fear…of anxiety…of worn-out tiredness…

God’s only agenda is salvation…is liberation…

And that you would know that this freedom and liberation…that this salvation is yours. It’s already given to you. It’s free. You don’t have to earn it…in fact, you can’t earn it. None of us are deserving of it…but it’s yours. It’s God’s gift for you.

You are saved by grace.

It’s unmerited. Undeserved. Unearned.

And it’s yours.

The gift of God. Not the result of works—not by something you did—so as not to give anyone cause to be boastful.

For you are only what God has made you…created in Christ for good works…which God intends to be your very way of life.

Because salvation is yours. Because you didn’t do anything to deserve it. Because you didn’t do anything to earn it. Because your salvation, your freedom, your liberation…is a gift to you…you are free to live lives of love for others.

We’re not saved from…we are saved for…

Saved for generosity. Saved for compassion. Saved for mercy. Saved for goodness. Saved for service. Saved for volunteering. Saved for giving. Saved for healing.

Saved…for love…

You are what God has created you to be.

You are created by love. And for love.

That love would be your very way of life.

Again and again, we love because we were first loved. We give because God first gave to us.

Again and again, our lives are lived as a response to the love we’ve been shown and given by God.

This past week was one year since we were gathered together in person for worship. Today is one year since we made the agonizing call to take our worship and faith formation—to take our whole community of faith—to a virtual community. None of us possibly imagined then that we’d be here 365 days later. If we could have even dreamed of such a scenario…I imagine worship might have looked a little different. Songs sung with a bit more passion. Prayer petitions offered a bit more earnestly. Handshakes and embraces lingered just a bit longer as we shared signs of peace.

What I do know, is that it’s been the most difficult year any of us has ever had. Some of us got sick. Some of us got really sick. A lot of our friends and neighbors got sick. A lot of our friends and neighbors died. It’s been a year…

And in the midst of all of this…God never stopped showing up. Through volunteering, cards for healthcare workers, buying dinner for your neighbor who’s a nurse, donating headphones to Armstrong so elementary students could log on to learn, reaching out in the midst of a terrible freeze…friends, God and the Holy Spirit has never been more active…

This love that you’ve been given has to be shared. It’s simply what God created you for.

Thank God for all that’s been done to get us to where we are today. Thank God for medicine and science and vaccines that are hurtling us toward the finish line.

And we are still being called to love our neighbor, church. Our unvaccinated neighbor. Our immunocompromised neighbor. Our young neighbor. Our neighbor for whom vaccines aren’t available yet. Our neighbor still cleaning up from their busted pipes. Our hungry neighbor. Our neighbor in need.

You have been given an incredible gift.

How will you share the love you’ve been shown?

How will you be generous with this gift?

Third Sunday in Lent

Second Sunday After Epiphany 2021

Third Sunday of Advent

John 1:6-8, 19-28

6 There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. 7 John came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might come to believe through John’s testimony. 8 John himself was not the light, but came to testify to the light.
19 And this is the testimony given by John when the Judeans sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, “Who are you?” 20 John confessed—and did not deny it—but confessed, “I am not the Messiah.” 21 And they asked John further, “What then? Are you Elijah?” John said, “I am not.” “Are you the prophet?” John answered, “No.” 22 Then they said to him, “Well who are you? Let us have an answer for those who sent us. What do you say about yourself?” 23 John said,
“I am the voice of one crying out,
‘In the wilderness, make direct the way of the Lord,’”
as the prophet Isaiah said.
24 Now the ones questioning John had been sent from the Pharisees. 25 And they asked him, “Why then are you baptizing if you are neither the Messiah, nor Elijah, nor the prophet?” 26 John answered them, “I baptize with water. Among you stands one whom you do not know, 27 the one who is coming after me; the strap of whose sandal I am not worthy to untie.” 28 This took place in Bethany across the Jordan where John was baptizing.

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Please pray with me this morning, church:

God of Joy,

Stir up your power,

And break in to our world.

Keep us mindful of those moments of joy.

Help us share our joy

To our weary world.

Amen.

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What gives you joy?

When is a particular moment that you rejoiced in?

Especially when you struggle to find happiness, what helps you to be joyful?

What a time to talk about joy, right? All of these Advent themes seem a bit adrift for me this year… And maybe they do for you, too.

I mean, hope, peace, joy, and love…? In such a time as this…?

I mentioned a couple of weeks ago that it’s not that I’m a particularly despairing person, it’s just that I’m a bit of a realist, and sometimes a bit too much of a realist. Sometimes it’s difficult to hold things in tension. Like the tension between hope, peace, joy, and love…and the stark realities of a global pandemic. Sometimes our life circumstances are such that we find it difficult to muster up some of the more positive feelings and emotions.

And I’ve said this before here, too…that’s why what we do together as a community of faith is so vital. Because the truth about us is, we’re not always full of joy and hope and peace and love all the time. Sometimes we’re sad or hurt or angry or despairing. But…because we are part of a community…because we do this whole thing together…we are helped along by one another. This means that I won’t always be the joyful one…but maybe you’ve had some moments of joy this week and you can shoulder some of my load and share some of your joy with me. And other times, maybe you’ll be struggling…but I’ll have had a joyful day or two and I can shoulder some of your burdens and share some of my joy with you…

We are given to one another to help one another. To shoulder on another’s burdens. And to lift one another up.

This is our witness.

This is our truth that we have to proclaim to the world.

A world, I think, that is longing to hear it.

This morning, we have another vignette of John the baptizer out in the wilderness. This time from the Gospel of John. And John the baptizer is questioned about who he is…questioned about his truth, his witness. And in the face of this questioning, John is very clear about who he is and who he is not.

“Are you the Messiah?”

“Are you Elijah?”

“Are you the prophet?”

None of these. John is very clear, “I’m the one pointing the way.” John’s entire witness is one of testimony. John the baptizer’s entire role is to tell the truth about Christ. One who is more powerful than John. One whose sandal John isn’t worthy to untie.

One whom the world doesn’t know.

John the baptizer is very clear about who he is and who is not.

What’s our witness during this time, church?

In such a time as this, to what are we testifying?

Our verses from Isaiah might have sounded familiar to you this morning. Jesus quotes them in the Gospel of Luke when he gets up to read in the temple for the first time in Luke chapter 4.

1 The spirit of the Lord is upon me,
because the Lord has anointed me;
to bring good news to the oppressed,
to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim liberty to the captives,
and release to the prisoners;
2 to proclaim the year of Jubilee,
and justice for our God;
to comfort all who mourn…

These are Jesus’ first public words in the Gospel of Luke. I’ve called them Jesus’ manifesto or his Inaugural Address. This is what Jesus says he’s about…what Jesus is going to do.

What’s our witness during this time, church?

In such a time as this, to what are we testifying?

In a weary world…are we proclaiming a thrill of hope? Are we proclaiming a message of rejoicing?

Joy is different than happiness. Happiness is a condition, it comes and goes. It’s fleeting.

Joy is more abiding. Joy has staying power.

I’ve heard more than a few of my friends this week talk about how difficult all this is. Many of them teachers. A lot of them nurses and doctors. The world is weary, church.

It seems as if, collectively, the fatigue of all of this is coming to a head. And it makes me worry if we might not make it through this current surge…

But then also, my sister says something about the joy she feels when she plays with her two girls…our nieces. My sister, the ER nurse… My sister who puts her life on the line in service of others…

If she can find moments of joy…surely I can look a little more closely…

And I start to notice…

This kindness… That act of caring… This injustice made right… That relationship saved…

It’s like I mentioned a few weeks ago on Reign of Christ Sunday. Sometimes what we need is a bit of perspective.

Sometimes we just need a little help noticing the joy…

Fifth Sunday of Easter 2020

John 14:1-14

[Jesus said to the disciples:] 1“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God, trust also in me. 2 In God’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? 3 And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also. 4 And you know the way to the place where I am going.” 5 Thomas said to Jesus, “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” 6 Jesus said to Thomas, “I…am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to God except because of me. 7 If you know me, you will know God also. From now on you do know God and have seen God.”
8 Philip said to Jesus, “Lord, show us God, and we will be satisfied.” 9 Jesus said to him, “Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and you still do not know me? Whoever has seen me has seen God. How can you say, ‘Show us God’? 10 Do you not trust that I am in God and God is in me? The words that I say to you I do not speak on my own; but God who dwells in me does these works.

11 Trust me that I am in God and God is in me; but if you do not, then trust in me because of the works themselves. 12 Very truly, I tell you, the one who trusts in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to God. 13 I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that God may be glorified in the Son. 14 If in my name you ask me for anything, I will do it.

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Please pray with me this morning, church:

Holy God,

Heavenly Father and Heavenly Mother,

Heavenly Parent of all,

Show us the way.

When we are forgetful, remind us.

Show us yourself.

And walk with us, as we travel this way together.

Amen.

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Church, similar to the past couple of weeks, I’ve got a couple of questions for your reflection. I’d like for you to write these down and sit with them and pray about them, think on them. And if you feel like sharing, put a comment up on Facebook, or comment on youtube, or send me an email. I’m really just trying to offer you something more and something deeper for your personal devotions or spiritual reflections.

This week, I’m wondering, what ways are you following?

How do you know which way to go?

How do you figure out who to follow?

I want to encourage you to reflect on those questions this week.

Write them, journal with them, meditate on them.

What ways are you following?

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I’m the type of person who doesn’t always need to have a particular direction. One of the ways I clear my mind is by heading off without any particular destination. I suppose I’m somewhat of a free spirit that way, I’m happy to end up wherever the way takes me.

But once I get to…wherever it is I’m going…I am usually pretty adamant that I want to be able to return from where I came.

When I do have a particular destination in mind, I like very much to know how to get there.

And, I’m pretty decent at it, right? Thank God for GPS and Google Maps.

I also used to be able to do it with a compass, but who knows where that knowledge now lives in my brain… My parents used to keep a Rand McNally atlas in the car. Though not necessarily the most up-to-date thing in the world, and certainly not always the easiest to read and decipher, I could usually do a pretty good job of finding my way with it.

I think our gospel reading this morning is all about figuring out where we’re going.

Maybe more than any other year before, I’ve really been hooked into Thomas’s storyline in this Gospel of John. I’m really identifying with Thomas this year.

Thomas, you’ll remember, from quite a few weeks ago, before Easter, was the one who sort of puzzlingly exclaimed “Let us also go! So that we may die with him!” when Jesus, who had dawdled for a few days, told the disciples that they were headed to Bethany to see Lazarus and Martha and Mary after Lazarus had died.

Also, Thomas, from the Sunday after Easter, is the one who simply wants what all the other disciples got to experience…an encounter with the risen Christ. “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”

The reason I think I’m identifying so strongly with Thomas this year is because I think Thomas is really speaking for all of us, especially during these extraordinarily unusual times.

Thomas is zealous—“Let us also go with Jesus! We’ll follow him anywhere!”

Thomas is skeptical—“Show me the proof.”

And this morning, Thomas says the thing that we’re all thinking—“Uhh…actually we don’t know where you’re going, Jesus…so how can we know the way?”

And if Thomas says the thing we’re all thinking this morning, then Jesus’ words are the perfect mix of comfort and confusion that Jesus is so well-known for.

“I…am the way.”

Great! …ahhh……so where are we going…?

In a time of confusion and high anxiety and mounting stress…the question I keep asking myself is “Where does all this go?” Where does this leave us?

Where do we end up?

And friends…I don’t have a good answer for you.

I don’t know what’s next. I don’t know where this ends up. I don’t know if a return from where we came is even desired…much less, possible.

But here’s that comforting part—wherever we’re going…Jesus is the way to get there.

That is to say, perhaps following Jesus is more about how we are along the way than it is about the destination.

That is to say, as long as our journey reflects what we’ve learned from Jesus…we know we’re headed in the right direction. As long as our journey is a way of healing and care and compassion, as long as we’re attentive and responsive to the needs of the most vulnerable and marginalized in our neighborhoods, as long as we stand in solidarity with and fight for the dignity and worth and well-being of the cast-aside and systemically oppressed in our communities…we’re on the right path.

The good news, church, is that Jesus is right…you do know the way. It’s the way you’ve learned since you were much younger. It’s the way you’ve been taught by mothers and step-mothers and grand-mothers and other motherly and parental figures, all of whom we remember and celebrate today. That’s really the way of parenting, isn’t it? To teach your young ones to follow closely…closely to you, close to Jesus… Church, it’s the way we lift up every week we gather together.

Following Jesus is that way.

It’s so simple. And so difficult, all at the same time.

We may not know exactly where we’re going.

But we do know who goes with us.

Like the disciples on the road to Emmaus, Jesus is our companion on our journey.

Like the sheep of God’s pasture, Jesus is our shepherd, our guide, and our safety.

Our destination may be unclear, but Jesus dwells in God, and in Jesus, God dwells with us.

Our home…our dwelling place, our place of abiding…is in God.

Trust in this truth.

Have faith in this good news.

Fourth Sunday of Easter 2020

John 10:1-10

[Jesus said to some of the Pharisees gathered there:] 1 “Very truly, I tell you, anyone who does not enter the sheepfold by the gate but climbs in by another way is a thief and a bandit. 2 The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. 3 The gatekeeper opens the gate for the shepherd, and the sheep hear his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. 4 When he has brought out all his own, he goes ahead of them, and the sheep follow him because they know his voice. 5 They will not follow a stranger, but they will run away because they do not know the voice of strangers.” 6 Jesus used this figure of speech with them, but they did not understand what he was saying to them.
7 So again Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep. 8 All who came before me are thieves and bandits, but the sheep did not listen to them. 9 I am the gate. Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture. 10 The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.”

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Please pray with me this morning, church:

Good Shepherd,

When fear and worry consume us,

When doubt and anxiety overtake us,

When we feel lost in the valley of the shadow of death,

Call our name.

Lead us beside your still waters, and make us rest securely.

Restore our souls. Lead us to life.

Amen.

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Church, similar to last week, I want to give you a question or two for reflection. I’d like for you to write these down and sit with them and pray about them, think about them. And if you feel like sharing, put a comment up on Facebook, or comment on youtube, or send me an email. I’m really just trying to offer you something more and something deeper for your personal devotions or spiritual reflections.

This week, I’m wondering, what voices do you hear?

What voices are competing for your attention?

And what voices are you listening to and giving weight to?

What is the voice of Jesus saying to you in these times?

I want to encourage you to reflect on those questions this week.

Write them, journal with them, meditate on them.

What voices are you listening to?

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When we were much younger, my sister and I got a trampoline from Santa one Christmas. I don’t know about my sister, but I personally think it was a consolation present because what I really wanted was a swimming pool. And I guess trampolines are just a lot cheaper than pools…

Anyway, we enjoyed it. We jumped the heck out of that thing. Flips, jumps, trying to see who could double-bounce the other… The occasional twisted ankle or trampoline burn. The first time I ever got stitches was when I busted my chin open on my knee. There were a few legs put through the springs around the outside. Miraculously, only got bounced completely off a couple of times…

Many years later, some of our friends and neighbors have trampolines now. They haven’t really gone out of style. But they have this new thing that seems to come standard now that I don’t think they had back when we had ours. It’s like a netting…have you seen this…? So there are poles around the outside of the trampoline with a net that goes all the way around…I guess to prevent young ones from flying off the side…although, my experience shows that’s pretty unlikely… You know…safety I guess… And similar to the old school ball pits at Chuck E. Cheese or Discovery Zone or any of those places, there’s a place in the netting for you to go in and out.

One way in. And one way out.

I think of those trampoline nets when I hear Jesus talking about gathering sheep into the sheepfold this morning. The sheep are gathered together into a place to keep them safe. There’s a gate. One way in, and one way out. The sheep follow Jesus for safety.

And the sheep know the shepherd’s voice.

When I would inevitably be caught doing something I wasn’t supposed to be doing, often on that trampoline, I’d hear a sharp, “Chris!”—*oop*— didn’t mean to get caught… It was always strange to me how I would never hear the door open, no other indication that I was about to be scolded, often by my dad, always just my name. And if was something really bad, or magnificently stupid, I got the full name treatment: “Christian! What the heck are you doing?!?”

And now, with an almost-9-month old, I’m beginning to learn the art of the parent-voice.

You know the one I’m talking about. You’ve used this voice.

You know this voice.

It’s the voice that inevitably catches you when you’re doing something you’re not supposed to be doing.

But it’s also the same voice that holds you in their arms, rocks you gently, scratches your back, and tells you how much they love you…how you mean everything in the world to them…

You know this voice…

“The sheep hear this voice…and they follow because they know this voice…”

The sheep know this voice of love. This voice of safety. This voice of protection.

The truth is, church, we have many different voices competing for our attention these days.

They sound like fear. They sound like worry, and anxiety, and scarcity, and doubt. These voices tell you to do silly things like hoard toilet paper, close in even tighter than before and close yourself off from everything and everyone. These voices urge us to do these things in the name of security and safety, but what it actually does is seal us off from one another so that we can’t hear—or we choose not to hear—when our neighbor is hurting or in trouble.

Now, don’t hear me incorrectly…you should absolutely continue to take steps to limit your exposure and contact with others, you should absolutely continue wearing a mask when you go out to public places, you should absolutely continue washing your hands… This virus is still running rampant and the cases in Fort Bend County are still going up, but just because what’s needed from us right now is physical separation, what we also need now more than ever is to stay connected…we just have to use new and innovative ways to do that. We have to put forth the extra effort and pick up the phone, send that text, log in to that Zoom chat… Every Sunday, I tell you that it’s an extra effort to stay connected…I know it is…but every Sunday I also promise you that it’s worth it.

It is worth it.

Last week, we had an incredible Sunday morning conversation where we talked about fears and vulnerability and where we see God at work in the world. It was incredibly moving, and I just want all of you to continue to feel connected during these times. Burnout’s real…I get it. After this, I don’t even want to hear the word “Zoom”…but for now…it’s worth it. I promise you, it’s worth it.

Those voices of fear and anxiety and worry and doubt and scarcity…those aren’t the voice of Jesus the good shepherd. The good shepherd speaks words of comfort…and grace…and love…and safety…and peace. You know the good shepherd because you know the good shepherd’s voice.

The good shepherd leads you beside still waters. The good shepherd makes you to rest in lush verdant pastures. The good shepherd anoints your head with oil and feeds you with rich and good things.

The good shepherd restores your soul.

Given all we have from our good shepherd, how could we not share these gifts? How could we not, like the first disciples in the first communities in Acts, share all things and hold all things in common for the good of all? How could we not share our resources and give to all as any have need?

When we know our life is secure in the loving arms of the good shepherd, we can rest peacefully. And we can invite others into that rest.

Like you’ve found this refreshing oasis in the midst of a wilderness time…invite other sheep to experience that same rest and refreshment.

Knowing that our lives are secure in the loving arms of the good shepherd doesn’t make the fear and worry go away. Knowing our lives are secure in the arms of the good shepherd won’t make this virus any less real or any less deadly. But it will help you find a moment of peace in the midst of so much uncertainty.

You’ll feel it…deep inside yourself…that this, too, shall pass…all will be well…your cup will overflow and you shall dwell in the presence of God your whole life long…you shall have life and life abundant…

The good shepherd cares for the sheep.

The good shepherd guards you’re going out and you’re coming in.

Jump, and frolic, and graze, and rest securely in the safety and love of your shepherd.

Good Friday 2020

John 18:1—19:42

The Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ according to St. John

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Please pray with me tonight, church:

Holy and Crucified One,

Behold us, your children.

Fix our eyes on your suffering and anguish.

Strengthen us to behold your death,

That we might behold our life.

Amen.

—————

We have a tendency to avert our eyes.

We don’t like to look upon things that make us hurt. Or uncomfortable. Or uneasy. Or nauseous.

We don’t like to look upon pain. Especially if it’s pain that we may have had a role in causing.

We see hurt and pain all around us, maybe especially more so in this time of pandemic. We see news reports and pictures and videos of death…of hospitals being overrun…testing sites being slammed beyond capacity…ventilators on their last legs…masks and goggles and face shields getting reused…nurses and doctors and surgeons trudging through halls barely able to stand…

Oh Lord, we know pain this year…

We know fear…and hurt…and anxiety…and worry…

The Great Three Days…the Triduum…Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and the Easter Vigil…invite us deeply into the betrayal, suffering, death…and too, the resurrection of Jesus. These Three Days implore us to look…or maybe more appropriately, one of my favorite biblical words, to behold.

The last words in our service tonight beg us to that same reflection: “Behold, the life-giving cross, on which was hung the Savior of the whole world.”

It is in looking upon the pain and suffering of Christ, in not averting our gaze, that we begin to understand within our innermost self…at our most cellular level…the pain, suffering, hurt, injustice, and brokenness that Christ died in order to overcome.

Don’t look away. Don’t avert your eyes.

Behold…the life-giving cross.

I mentioned yesterday that all of the incredibly profound stories we hear throughout Holy Week beg the question of us: What does Love look like?

Last night we heard of a self-giving love that takes the lower place and washes the feet of those who are beneath them.

Tonight, we hear of a self-giving love that suffers death so that you would have life.

Tonight, we hear of a self-giving love that dies. A love that dies…for you.

Lutheran pastor and great theologian Gerhard Forde said that “Jesus doesn’t die instead of us…Jesus dies in our stead.” Jesus doesn’t die in place of us…Jesus dies in our place…that is, the place where we all die. Church, Jesus doesn’t take our place as a recipient of God’s wrath against our sinfulness…our sin is crucified with Jesus to show us that not even our sinful rebellion against God is a barrier to our being in the right relationship with God.

As a Lutheran pastor and theologian Nadia Bolz-Weber notes, “The message of Good Friday is that God would rather die, than to be in the sin-accounting business anymore.”

Look upon the cross.

Behold your sin taken upon Christ’s own self and crucified.

Behold your salvation.

Love looks like God dying.

The cross was where enemies of the state were executed. The cross was a highly visible reminder to everyone exactly who was in the dominant position of power and what would happen if you tried to subvert the established rule of “the way things are.”

Love looks like God’s solidarity with those who die. Those who die unjustly. Those who have been falsely accused. Those that have been called “treasonous,” “seditious,” “trouble-makers,” “rabble-rousers,” “enemies of the state,” or any other manner of nasty words.

The crucifixion and death of Christ demonstrate completely God’s solidarity with those that are dying and those that are executed for pointing out the ways that the “way things are” disproportionately harm the vulnerable and marginalized populations and those who are on the underside.

The cross is God’s ultimate act of solidarity with the ones who are hurting, injured, in pain, fearful, worried, and anxious.

The cross is God’s ultimate act of solidarity with the marginalized and the oppressed.

The cross is God’s ultimate act of solidarity with those who are dying…with those who have a positive diagnosis.

The cross is God’s ultimate act of solidarity with the sick and the immuno-compromised.

The cross is God’s ultimate act of solidarity with humanity.

This is what love looks like.

Love looks like God dying.

And…in that glorious paradox that is somehow always true with God…the Lutheran understanding of a theology of the cross asserts that God is somehow most present…where God appears to be most absent.

It is in the suffering and death and dying…that God brings forth life.

Out of pain and hurt and suffering, God brings healing and restoration and wholeness.

Out of your pain and hurt and suffering, through the cross of Christ, God dares to bring healing and restoration and wholeness.

God would die before God would let you remain in bondage to your sin—to the ways in which you separate yourself from God and from your neighbor, from the stranger, from the other.

God takes what is intended for destruction, and uses it for salvation.

God takes what is meant for execution, and uses it for resurrection.

God transforms the means of death into the means of life.

Behold…the cross.

Behold…life given for you.

Behold…your salvation.

Behold…love.

Behold.

The life-giving cross.

On which was hung the Savior.

Of the whole world.

Maundy Thursday 2020

John 13:1-17, 31b-35

1 Now before the festival of the Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to God. Having loved his own who were in the world, Jesus loved them to the end.

2 The tempter had already put it into the heart of Judas son of Simon Iscariot to betray Jesus. And during supper 3 Jesus, knowing that God had given all things into his hands and that he had come from God and was going to God, 4 got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. 5 Then Jesus poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him. 6 He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?” 7 Jesus answered, “You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand.” 8 Peter said to Jesus, “You will never wash my feet.” Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.” 9 Simon Peter said to him, “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!” 10 Jesus said to him, “One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean. And you are clean, though not all of you.” 11 For Jesus knew who was to betray him; for this reason, he said, “Not all of you are clean.”
12 After Jesus had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had returned to the table, he said to them, “Do you know what I have done to you? 13 You call me Rabbi and Lord—and you are right, for that is what I am. 14 So if I, your Lord and Rabbi, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. 15 For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. 16 Very truly, I tell you, servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them. 17 If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them.
31b “Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in the Son of Man. 32 If God has been glorified in the Son, God will also glorify the Son in God’s own self and will glorify the Son at once. 33 Little children, I am with you only a little longer. You will look for me; and as I said to the Judeans so now I say to you, ‘Where I am going, you cannot come.’ 34 “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. 35 By this everyone will know that you are my disciples if you have a love for one another.”

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Please pray with me this evening, church:

Holy God,

Teach us love again tonight.

In water and washing, show us what love looks like.

Help us receive love.

So that we might be love.

Amen.

—————

This is not how I thought Maundy Thursday was going to go this year…

When we began our Lenten pilgrimage way back at the end of February with Ash Wednesday, this is not where I thought we’d end up. I didn’t envision myself inviting you to gather your family around a meal. I didn’t think that I’d be streaming into your homes on your TVs or iPads or phones. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined that I’d be preaching to an empty Sanctuary…

Yet here we are…

A few days ago, on Palm Sunday, I noted that there was going to be some grief associated with Holy Week for me this year. Because I so value the getting together, that gathering, the being in-person…there’s something about the very physical and tactile nature of the worship services of Holy Week that are really difficult to be approximated.

We do our best. And it will be good. It will be excellent.

And through it all, God will be praised. Which is really the only thing that matters.

But still…there’s some sadness in this for me this year.

But…I think this is what love looks like this year.

The stories of Holy Week—the triumphal entry and shouts of “Hosanna!”, the washing of feet and the sharing of a meal, the betrayal, the arrest, the false accusations, the cooked-up fabricated charges, the torture, the shame, the execution—all of these stunning details in this incredibly poignant, magnificently holy story all invite us to examine the question: What does Love look like?

How is love expressed most clearly by God through the person of Jesus, and particularly in the final days of Jesus’ life?

How is it that love is most clearly expressed by God through the betrayal, arrest, crucifixion, and death of Christ?

It’s appropriate that tonight when we hear Jesus’ mandatum novum—the new commandment—“That you love one another, just as I have loved you,” that we take time to reflect on this love in a time of the pandemic.

What does love look like under quarantine?

What does a physically-distant, stay-at-home love look like?

A reflection that’s been making the rounds in clergy circles, but that I heard from Bishop Kevin Strickland, Bishop of the Southeastern Synod of the ELCA, is that this year…this Maundy Thursday in the year of COVID-19…love looks like an empty church.

That is, the most loving thing we could do in a time of pandemic…is stay home.

As much as that pains me. As much as that grieves me. You worshiping from home, me preaching to an empty room…this is the epitome of what love looks like this year.

And, I think it’s awfully close to the kind of serving-others-type of love, what we call this self-giving-type of love, a love that gives of one’s self, that Jesus models here in our gospel this evening. It’s a sacrificial love…a love that sacrifices one’s self…to the benefit of others.

See, the thing is, love isn’t an emotion. We talk about love that way, but it isn’t really. You can’t love passively, or love in theory. You “do” love…you embody love.

Love is an action verb.

I say this in literally almost every wedding sermon I’ve ever preached, love requires something of you. Love is costly. Love always seeks the absolute best for the one being loved…which means that sometimes you’ll have to sacrifice something of yourself for the best of the one whom you love.

And I think we understand this sacrificial love in a very real way this year…as we trudge our way through this pandemic. We’re making choices to keep our distance and stay at home right now not for our own sake…but for the benefit of everyone else, particularly the most vulnerable in our communities. We benefit from these choices, too, absolutely…but the reason we’re staying home and not gathering together is so that we don’t put one another at risk.

Church, this is sacrificial.

I’m reminded of Philippians 2 that we heard read just a few days ago on Sunday: “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus.” Right? St. Paul writes about having “the mind of Christ.” And this is what it means to have the mind of Christ…Luther would say, this is what it means to be Christ… Paul goes on, “Let each of you look not to your own self-interest, but to the interests of others. And in all humility, regard others as better than yourselves.”

This is what it means to love like Christ.

And, it’s not as if we don’t care about our own self-interest, but here’s the thing… if each of us looks out for the interests of others, we don’t have to worry so much about our self-interest, because we trust that someone else has our interest at heart. If everyone is looking out for the interests of others, I can look out for your best interest without worrying so much about my own best interest, because I trust that you’re looking out for my best interest. Does that make sense?

This is that sacrificial, self-giving-type of love.

If everyone is looking to the interests of others, we recognize something of what we’re learning from this pandemic, which is that we’re so much more interconnected than we realize. This virus and the ease with which it spreads have laid that bare in a really painful and really terrible way. Our whole lives are wrapped up together. “[C]aught up in a inescapable network of mutuality…tied together in a single garment of destiny…,” as the Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King, Jr. writes.

But if our pain and our suffering is tied up together…so is our healing.

If our hurt and worry and those things that oppress us are tied up together…so is our wellness and our liberation.

Church, this is the sacrificial, self-giving love of Christ.

And this is the kind of love Christ commands of us. “This is my commandment…that you love one another…just as I have loved you…”

Love looks like an empty sanctuary.

Love looks like reaching out with a phone call or a text.

Love looks like offering to grab groceries for your neighbor.

Love looks like sharing a meal together.

Love looks like washing each other’s feet and hands.

This is what love looks like.

Lent V – 2020

John 11:1-45

1 Now a certain man was ill, Lazarus of Bethany, which was the village of Mary and her sister Martha. 2 Mary was the one who anointed the Lord with perfume and wiped his feet with her hair; it was her brother Lazarus who was ill. 3 So the sisters sent a message to Jesus, “Lord, the one whom you love is ill.” 4 But when Jesus heard it, he said, “This illness does not lead to death; rather it is for God’s glory, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it.” 5 Accordingly, though Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus, 6 after having heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was.
7 Then after this he said to the disciples, “Let us go to Judea again.” 8 The disciples said to him, “Rabbi, the Judeans were just now trying to stone you, and are you going there again?” 9 Jesus answered, “Are there not twelve hours of daylight? Those who walk during the day do not stumble, because they see the light of this world. 10 But those who walk at night stumble, because the light is not in them.” 11 After saying this, he told them, “Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep, but I am going there to awaken him.” 12 The disciples said to him, “Lord, if he has fallen asleep, he will be all right.” 13 Jesus, however, had been speaking about his death, but they thought that he was referring merely to sleep. 14 Then Jesus told them plainly, “Lazarus is dead. 15 For your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may come to trust. But let us go to him.” 16 Thomas, who was called the Twin, said to the other disciples, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.”
17 When Jesus arrived, he found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb four days. 18 Now Bethany was near Jerusalem, some two miles away, 19 and many of the Judeans had come to Martha and Mary to console them about their brother. 20 When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went and met him, while Mary stayed at home. 21 Martha said to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. 22 But even now I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you.” 23 Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again.” 24 Martha said to him, “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.” 25 Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who trust in me, even though they die, will live, 26 and everyone who lives and trusts in me will never die. Do you believe this?” 27 She said to him, “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.”
28 When she had said this, she went back and called her sister Mary, and told her privately, “The Rabbi is here and is calling for you.” 29 And when Mary heard it, she got up quickly and went to him. 30 Now Jesus had not yet come to the village, but was still at the place where Martha had met him. 31 The Judeans who were with Mary in the house, consoling her, saw Mary get up quickly and go out. They followed her because they thought that she was going to the tomb to weep there.

32 When Mary came where Jesus was and saw him, she knelt at his feet and said to him, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” 33 When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Judeans who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. 34 He said, “Where have you laid him?” They said to him, “Lord, come and see.” 35 Jesus began to weep. 36 So the Judeans said, “See how he loved Lazarus!” 37 But some of them said, “Could not he, the one who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?”
38 Then Jesus, again greatly disturbed, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone was lying against it. 39 Jesus said, “Take away the stone.” Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, “Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days.” 40 Jesus said to her, “Did I not tell you that if you trusted, you would see the glory of God?” 41 So they took away the stone. And Jesus looked upward and said, “Father, I thank you for having heard me. 42 I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me.” 43 When Jesus had said this, he cried with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” 44 The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Unbind him, and let him go.”
45 Many of the Judeans therefore, who had come with Mary and had seen what Jesus did, believed in him.

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Please pray with me this morning, church:

God of resurrection,

Call us out from our graves.

Unbind us.

In the midst of our fears and worries and anxieties and doubts,

Help us to breathe.

Amen.

—————

Church, how are we doing?

If you’re keeping score at home, we’re on Day 4 of the Fort Bend County “Stay Home to Save Lives” order. Day 15 of CDC-recommended social—or as I prefer to call it, physical—distancing. (Because really the idea is to stay physically distant, but in truth, we really must maintain our social connections to one another as best we can…) And Day 20-something of feeling truly under threat from this COVID-19 pandemic…

So how’s your quarantine going, church?

If you’re like me, quite honestly, you feel a bit like Lazarus…stuck in a tomb. Whether the tomb is your house, or the gazillion things you find on your to-do list, or even if it’s just the threat of this pandemic that has you feeling like you’re holed up and sealed off with only your own fear and anxiety to keep you company…I bet the tomb feels real to you this morning. I bet you can imagine what being sealed off in darkness looks like and feels like.

And…depending on how seriously you’re taking your hygiene habits during these days of quarantine and distancing and isolation from others…because let’s be honest, who are you really going to interact with during a quarantine??…depending on your habits during this quarantine, maybe you feel, or at least smell, like Lazarus…like you’ve been dead for 4 days… I love the King James Version’s translation of Martha in verse 39. The KJV says, “My Lord, he stinketh…” I wonder if your new co-workers would say that about you. “My Lord, they stinketh…”

Seriously though, take a shower. Stay clean and healthy and hydrated. And for the love of all things holy, wash your hands!

The thing is, I think we know very well what a tomb feels like these days. Maybe you feel like the dry bones from Ezekiel—dried up and like you’ve lost all hope…cut off completely… Uhh, hello…? Quarantine and isolation, anyone…? I think we know what that feels like. I think we’re acquainted with the grief shown by Martha and Mary, and even Jesus. I think we can identify with that pain. If not the grief and pain just yet, certainly the fear and anxiety…which lead to grief and pain…they’re sisters, you see?

I mean, do you hear the agony and pain in Martha’s and Mary’s words? “Lord…if you had been here…our brother would not have died..” If you had come when we first sent word…we told you he was sick…what did you think was going to happen…?

I feel like I’m always saying that this is my favorite bible story or that’s my favorite bible story…but I really like this story from the gospel of John. Because talk about complicated family dynamics. Mary, Martha, and Lazarus…they were really close with Jesus, the author writes that Jesus loved them, they were all really close friends. And so when Martha lobs this accusation at Jesus, it didn’t just glance off. It couldn’t have. I mean, these were words meant to wound and injure, and I think they probably did. “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” The meaning behind these words being, of course, “How dare you walk up like everything’s ok. We told you Lazarus was dying and you stayed where you were and you didn’t come here immediately, and Lazarus died because of you.”

How often do we use words that are meant to wound and injure with our family members? How often do we use words to try and make others feel as hurt and as pained as we do?

As we live into our new normal of sheltering at home and severely restricting our interactions with others, do you find yourself getting short with your family members? Are you managing your anxiety and fear so that you don’t put all that stuff on your family who you suddenly find yourself spending a lot more time with?

And so, it’s in the midst of this grief and anger and pain, that Mary and Martha and Jesus and all the folks gathered with them, they go to the tomb and Jesus stands outside it, and then the shortest verse in the Bible, John 11:35: “Jesus wept.”

Over and over again, the gospel of John tries to convince you that Jesus has it all together and there’s this great plan and Jesus knows exactly what he’s doing and exactly what he has to do…but here, in this moment, you get a peek behind the curtain. This death—Lazarus’ death—pains Jesus. He was greatly disturbed…deeply moved… Jesus has to be wondering if what Martha and Mary said was true…”If I would have been here…would Lazarus still be alive?”

That’s the thing about pain, we’re pain-averse creatures…we don’t like it. And so when we experience pain and hurt, we feel very strongly that the ones who caused us this pain and hurt should feel exactly like we feel…worse even, they should feel worse than we do.

When we operate out of a place of pain, we seek to transmit that pain and put it on others. The same is true of fear and anxiety…when we don’t manage them well, we bring others into our cyclone of fear and anxiety, we actually catch others up in this really damaging spiral, and it ends up hurting them.

So how do we manage these things? How do you make sure that when you’re feeling well acquainted with the tomb, when you feel like your fear and anxiety have kept you buried for 4 days or even longer, how can you be sure not to catch others up in this?

Well, for starters, I think breathing is essential.

Fort Bend County’s stay-at-home orders explicitly mention that getting outside and going on walks are not prohibited. In fact, they’re encouraged. It’s the breath—God’s breath—that gives life to the dry bones in Ezekiel. It’s the wind…the Hebrew word Ruach—interestingly Ruach means both wind and breath and spirit—it’s God’s breath…that will restore life to your worn out and dried up bones. Go outside and breathe deep. Take in the spring pollen. Let it fill up your eyeballs and nostrils. Let it fill up your lungs. Notice your breath.

Unbind yourself. Lazarus didn’t come out of the tomb looking like a spring chicken, and he certainly didn’t smell like one. Jesus said, “Unbind him…and let him go…” Church, cast off your grave-clothes. Loosen and shake off those things that bind you up, those things that keep you locked away and sealed up in your graves. Set down those things that are not yours to carry. Lighten your load.

And connect. Be drawn together like muscles and tendons and sinews laid upon bones that are being joined back together. We keep emphasizing connection and cultivating and nurturing these relationships, because, by God, they’re important. We need people who love us…who deeply love us…who will call us out of our graves. Who will help pull us out of the dark places we find ourselves…who will help unbind and loosen our grave clothes…who won’t care too much that we stinketh…but who will lovingly encourage us to go take a shower and wash our hair. It’s the point of all these check-ins we’ve scheduled and the phone calls and texts I’m encouraging you to make and send…because we are connected, and I need you to realize that.

I need you to trust me that this, too…being and staying connected…is vital to your health and well-being.

Call someone.

Text them.

Reach out.

Join our Zoom chats.

Go outside. Walk.

Wave to your neighbor from at least 6 feet away.

You are the body the Christ…and we are being broken open for the sake of the world.