Letter to A Resurrected People, Chapter 2: Crossing Over

John 10:22-30            At that time the festival of the Dedication took place in Jerusalem. It was winter, and Jesus was walking in the temple, in the portico of Solomon. So the Jews gathered around him and said to him, “How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly.” Jesus answered, “I have told you, and you do not believe. The works that I do in my Father’s name testify to me; but you do not believe, because you do not belong to my sheep. My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish. No one will snatch them out of my hand. What my Father has given me is greater than all else, and no one can snatch it out of the Father’s hand. The Father and I are one.”

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Sometimes a letter can save your life.  My mother was the first person in her family to go to college.  Her father was a barber, the rest of the men in the family were farmers or laborers, and all of the women kept house.  But she had aspirations – she wanted to be a nurse and she wanted to have a college degree.  At that time there were few bachelor of nursing degree programs.  So she had to make her own way, going away to Wartburg College in Dubuque, Iowa for two years of study there, and then moving to Milwaukee for three years of nursing training and to complete her bachelor degree. 

Unfortunately, what she was doing didn’t make any sense to most of her family.  Her mother, her aunts and uncles and grandparents were bewildered by the whole thing.  Why did she have to leave home?  Why couldn’t she just take a job at the dairy like the other girls did until she got married?  Why in God’s name did she have to waste all this money?  Because even back then college was expensive – especially to a family who had just weathered the hardships of the depression and the war.  Why did this girl have to be so selfish?

Every time she came home for a visit these were the questions she faced.  Every time her father drove her back to college she cried all the way.  Maybe she wasn’t doing the right thing.  Maybe she should quit and make everyone happy. 

Only her father did not think so.  He was her champion. He believed that she was doing the right thing, and the fact that she was pursuing this goal made him happy.  All the way back to the college he would say comforting things, trying to undo all the damage that had been done while she was at home.  He would leave her at school, drive back home, and sometimes he would write her a letter.

He wrote to tell her why he wanted her in school, pursuing a career.  He would tell her why this was important to him, a man with a lifelong love of education who wanted for his daughter what he never had.  He would tell her why it was important for her.  And he would write to her, “I don’t care what you do with this degree.  If you graduate from college and get married and never work a day in your life, I will be happy for you.  But – if you do have to work to support yourself or even support a family on your own, I want you to be able to do work you can feel proud of.  You deserve that.”

My mother graduated college.  She worked for several years before meeting my father and getting married.  There was a period of time when she didn’t have to work.  But when I was five years old my father had a terrible accident, with injuries that took years to recover from, that he never really recovered from – and my mother worked.  

She kept those letters from her father in the drawer beside her bed for the rest of her life. 

Sometimes a letter saves your life.  That’s the way I see the letters to the church.  Written by the apostles of Christ, who had taken the gospel to these new places, helped establish churches there, and then moved on to carry the gospel ever farther.  Even from a distance they cared for and guided these young congregations.  Even when they couldn’t be with them, they shined a light for them, to show them the way through a very challenging way.

You get a glimpse of how challenging it must have felt for them in this story from Acts, where Peter is summoned to the home of Dorcas while he is in the area.  The apostles have begun moving westward with the gospel.  They are in uncharted territory now, apparently a Greek-speaking region.  Peter is summoned to this home because the people there believe that he can do something.  He enters the room where Dorcas’s body lies and the grief is tangible.  In tears, they hold up for him the evidence of Dorcas’s compassion – the clothing she had made for them, these women with nothing and no one.

Dorcas was a woman who embodied the very good news of Jesus Christ, even though she had not known Jesus.  Her life was a demonstration of the care for the least, the lost, the last; the overturning of the conventional power structures.  And the hope of these women surrounding Dorcas’s body was that this good news would not die; that in some way life would defeat death.

As he stood in this room surrounded by the women who loved Dorcas, I wonder if Peter had any idea what to do.  I suspect he felt helpless. He turned everyone out; he got down on his knees; he prayed and his prayer was answered.  Dorcas arose, not by the power of Peter but by the power of God.  There is no question that God carried Peter through this day.  And as a result of these events, the story tells us, many believed in the Lord.  Many in Joppa believed in the Lord, and Peter moved on, ever farther westward with the good news, where who knows what was going to happen.

One life was clearly saved that day – Dorcas – but countless other lives were saved as well.

This is the work of God, through the church.  And the work we read about in the stories from Acts must still go on today – if we are to be the church.  We must be somehow bringing life to this world if we are to be the church.  But how?

How would the Apostle, our imaginary Apostle, help us be the church?  How might a letter from the Apostle help us carry the life-saving message of Jesus to a world of hurt?

Chapter 2:

I told you that when God turns on the light of revelation, you would find yourself in a whole new world.  But I don’t say this lightly.  Believe me when I tell you I understand how hard this is to consider.  The path on which we have been placed has a few bumps and cracks.  We are now expected to cope with the difficulties of life in a different way than we did before.  After all, if death is not the end, how are we to approach life? 

I think it is helpful if you try to look past the literal aspects of our story that might seem implausible to you, aspects that might be a stumbling block for you.  When you read about the Apostles raising the dead and performing dramatic healings, it may be difficult for you to imagine what this has to do with your life, your world. 

The true message of these stories, the miracle people need, is the demonstration that death truly does not have dominion over those who believe.  For first century people, death was always near.  People died in their homes and their bodies were prepared for burial by their loved ones.  State executions were performed in public, with the intention that everyone should see it and fear it.  The army of the Roman Empire stayed highly visible as a reminder that any misstep could result in a swift death.  For these people, the choice between fear and faith was a stark one.

For you, the world is a much different place.  You live in a world that acts as though it has eradicated death, as though it is your job to defeat death with science, medicine, and strangely enough, war.

You have invented ways of executing war without actually having to be there – dropping bombs, piloting drones from a remote location.  The death wrought by it can seem very far away, especially to a public that only hears the news reports of it.  Yet, paradoxically, because you have pushed it away from your everyday experiences in any way you can, it holds power over you.  Death, in your world, is still feared. 

The hope I have for you is that you can see how the saving work of Christ impacts the very world in which you live.  Just as the widows of Joppa saw Christ’s power over death in their lives, you also might hear the gospel and know that death shall have no dominion for those who love Jesus and hear him call their names.  The work of defeating death is rightly God’s work, but by putting your trust in God you – the church – are a part of this work.

This you will discover one day at a time as you follow his way.  I know the human desire to have quick answers; I can hear you saying to me, “How long will you keep us in suspense?  If life is stronger than death, if love is stronger than hate, tell us plainly!” 

It’s a matter of taking steps in the right direction even when you are not sure where you will end up.  Recommit yourself each day to life in defiance of death, to justice for all people and nations, to compassion toward your neighbors.  And when it feels too hard, like more than you can do, let Jesus carry you across. Remember what he said – “you are my sheep and no one will snatch you out of my hand.  I will carry you over safely.  I love you enough for that.”

May you hear him calling your name, and may you surrender your life to the power that gives and sustains life. 

Letter to A Resurrected People, Chapter 1: Moments of Disclosure

John 21:1-14  After these things Jesus showed himself again to the disciples by the Sea of Tiberias; and he showed himself in this way. Gathered there together were Simon Peter, Thomas called the Twin, Nathanael of Cana in Galilee, the sons of Zebedee, and two others of his disciples. Simon Peter said to them, “I am going fishing.” They said to him, “We will go with you.” They went out and got into the boat, but that night they caught nothing. Just after daybreak, Jesus stood on the beach; but the disciples did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to them, “Children, you have no fish, have you?” They answered him, “No.” He said to them, “Cast the net to the right side of the boat, and you will find some.” So they cast it, and now they were not able to haul it in because there were so many fish. That disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “It is the Lord!” When Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord, he put on some clothes, for he was naked, and jumped into the sea. But the other disciples came in the boat, dragging the net full of fish, for they were not far from the land, only about a hundred yards off. When they had gone ashore, they saw a charcoal fire there, with fish on it, and bread. Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish that you have just caught.” So Simon Peter went aboard and hauled the net ashore, full of large fish, a hundred fifty-three of them; and though there were so many, the net was not torn. Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.” Now none of the disciples dared to ask him, “Who are you?” because they knew it was the Lord. Jesus came and took the bread and gave it to them, and did the same with the fish. This was now the third time that Jesus appeared to the disciples after he was raised from the dead.

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The most intense and prescriptive season of the church year is the time between Advent and Easter.  It is completely focused on the person of Jesus Christ, more than any other time of the year.  These are the months in which telling the story is the most important thing we do – the story that defines for us who we are.

And then, once we get to Easter, it’s like we are cut loose … unmoored! We have reached the end of the story, and the question that comes to mind is, “What now?” 

Which is also the question on the minds of Jesus’ followers – starting after his crucifixion and into the weeks, months, and years that followed.  What do they do now?  They had to find their way into and through life after Jesus – post-resurrection life, you might say. 

The followers of Jesus had to figure out what it meant to be disciples of a crucified and resurrected Lord.  They had to come to terms with what it meant to be a resurrected people – and it didn’t happen overnight.  It was a reorientation – to see that Jesus was a different kind of Messiah than they expected; to understand that there was meaning in his death.  His actions defeated death, showed us a life beyond the life of this world, and invited us into the realm of God. 

This was big.  And there certainly wasn’t an instruction manual for this new way of life.  There were no scriptures yet to guide them.  Just eyewitness stories, which they shared and gathered together, and used to try to figure out the way forward. They all needed to share what they had, lean on one another, and step by step, with the predictable mistakes along the way, be co-creators of a new thing.

Letters were extraordinarily helpful.  The church was spreading far and wide; somehow they needed to be in communication with one another.  When Paul, for example, established the church in Corinth, but then moved on to Ephesus, letters helped him to provide care and guidance for the Corinthian church.  So we have 1 and 2 Corinthians, remnants of the letters Paul wrote them. And we have the epistles to the Ephesians, Thessalonians, Galatians, and others, to give ongoing guidance.  God knows they needed guidance.  Don’t we all need guidance in being the church.

In fact, every year after Easter I think about the astounding implications of the resurrection for us.  Christ’s resurrection means we, as the body of Christ, are in some way a resurrected people.  Again and again we are confronted with the question of how to live a resurrected life.  I have to say it doesn’t really get any easier.  The church is faced with as many challenges today as it was in the first century – they just look different. 

The Epistles to the church help us, but yet I wonder: What would the apostles of Christ write if they were writing to us today?  What would we say to them in our letters, asking for their guidance?  What do we need to hear, as the church, to live life in Christ – the resurrected life?

I have a letter that may help us get started.  Let me share the first chapter with you today.

To all God’s beloved, who are called to be saints, grace and peace to you from God our Father and Mother, and the Lord Jesus Christ.

Christ is risen.  I know how shocking this idea is.  You thought that death was the end – but no!  It turns out that it’s not.  It’s actually only the beginning.  The death that Christ experienced opened up a whole new life for you and me and everyone.  The truth is that we will all die someday – we know this.  But now, through Christ, we share the hope of eternal life in the joy of the Lord.  Now listen carefully: that is actually the easy part.  This is also the good news:  even now, in this moment, we have a share in Christ’s death and resurrection.  New life in Christ begins today.

The question on your mind, of course, is how does one enter into this new life in Christ.  You will sometimes hear it said that faith is both personal and communal.  Our relationship with Jesus Christ is a relationship that each one of us must experience for him or herself.  And to each one of us it will come differently – but we may learn from one another’s experience – especially the more profound experiences.

There are times in our lives, there are moments of – let’s say revelation!  Instances when the light comes on and shows you the outline of the path before you.   It happened that way for Saul.  Here was a man who was our chief persecutor, who loved nothing more than destroying us and stopping the gospel.  He was zealous about his work.  Then one day this zealot was walking down the road to Damascus, thinking about all the damage he would bring on the church there, when he was literally blinded by the light – the light of revelation. 

This revelation turned his life around.  Soon, he was led to others who would guide him into the Way, as it was called then.  The movement he had been so vigorously persecuting, he was now to lead.

While not quite as dramatic, there was a kind of revelation for the first disciples when Jesus came to meet them on the lakeshore.  It was early in the morning.  They had been out all night fishing but there was nothing – again and again, their nets came up empty.  Then in the weak light of the dawn they saw Jesus on the shore.  This was a surprise, because he was supposed to be dead.  Of course, this wasn’t their first encounter with the resurrected Jesus, so they took it in stride (as much as you can take something like this in stride).  He said, “Try the other side,” and the abundance of fish threatened to tear their nets.  With his mere presence, he turned them around.  What had formerly been empty was now abundantly full.

It was a moment of light … disclosure … that gave them a glimpse of what a resurrected life is.  Such a moment might come to any of us.  At times with the drama of a thunderstorm, others as quiet as whispers.

The important thing for you to know, though, is that it isn’t you.  You didn’t think this up by yourself.  It’s not your own inventiveness.  It’s God.  More to the point, this revelation is a gift from God that you might not even understand, but should simply accept. 

It just picks you up and sets you on a whole new path – that’s the difference between revelation and just having a new idea.  When God turns the light on, you might find you are in a whole new world.

Revelation is meant to be shared, and we are fortunate to have these revelations shared with us in the scriptures.  The challenge for us in the 21^st century is to see that such moments of disclosure are as critical now as they were then. 

Perhaps it is especially challenging because we’re Presbyterians.  We don’t go in for dramatic experiences.  The consensus at the roundtable was that moments like these described in the scriptures seem very distant from our experiences.  In fact, we are not at all sure we would care to have such an experience.  Because the very nature of having your life turned around suggests that you were heading the wrong way. 

Perhaps the truth for us to see is that, in fact, we are.  Every day we are heading the wrong way.  Every day we are given the chance to see that we are naturally inclined to live for ourselves rather than Christ, live in fear rather than love.  Every day we are offered a choice.  Whenever we choose the abundant life of Christ, even if we aren’t sure we understand it, count it a victory of divine disclosure.