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.
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