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YOU CAN'T KNOW GOD IF YOU DON'T LOVE

4/29/2018

1 John 4:7-12

My beloved friends, let us continue to love each other since love comes from God. Everyone who loves is born of God and experiences a relationship with God. The person who refuses to love doesn’t know the first thing about God, because God is love—so you can’t know him if you don’t love. This is how God showed his love for us: God sent his only Son into the world so we might live through him. This is the kind of love we are talking about—not that we once upon a time loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as a sacrifice to clear away our sins and the damage they’ve done to our relationship with God.

My dear, dear friends, if God loved us like this, we certainly ought to love each other. No one has seen God, ever. But if we love one another, God dwells deeply within us, and his love becomes complete in us—perfect love!

We are back in the First Letter of John. I touched briefly on 1st John a couple of weeks ago, but I don’t want to go into it too deeply since this will be one of the non-Pauline letters we study this summer in our Summer Sermon Series and we’ll get a lot more detail then. Suffice it to say that this comes from a church that was dealing was internal schisms. Hold that in mind as we hear and consider the words of today’s reading.

Did you notice that this reading is all about ‘love’? I hope you noticed -- if you didn’t you must have been asleep, because the word ‘love’ – in various forms – shows up sixteen times in this brief bit of scripture. ‘Love’ pops up a lot in all the “John” writings, whether the gospel or the three letters. Remember, even if they weren’t written by the same person, they most likely all came from within the same community of believers.

And that community was apparently in the midst of some internal turmoil, because the writer is at pains to insist that they are still obligated to love each other – turmoil or no turmoil. And the writer, whoever he or she is, continues to remind us we do not love because the people around us are all so loveable and agreeable – we love because God first loves us.

Jesus loved everyone with whom he came in contact. He certainly didn’t always agree with them all – in fact, scripture goes to some pains to show us his occasional conflicts - but even in conflict he did not cease loving. His loving was often tinged with sadness because he knew that it was rejected and the recipient would never know the joy and peace of accepting that they were, indeed, loved. Before we can love, we must first accept that we are loved.

If we are going to call ourselves followers of Christ, then we have no choice – no choice – except to love, as well. As writer Kathryn Matthews puts it: Love is at the heart of what it means to be a follower of Jesus. Love is the measure of our faithfulness.

I don’t know why it is so difficult for many of us to accept being loved – to accept the reality of a God who loves me. We have trouble with our ability to love others because we can see their brokenness, but our larger problem stems from our fear that we are as broken and unlovable as everyone else.

If we were to read on a little further past our assigned reading today, we would come to these verses:

God is love. When we take up permanent residence in a life of love, we live in God and God lives in us. This way, love has the run of the house, becomes at home and mature in us, so that we’re free of worry on Judgment Day—our standing in the world is identical with Christ’s. There is no room in love for fear. Well-formed love banishes fear. Since fear is crippling, a fearful life—fear of death, fear of judgment—is one not yet fully formed in love.
We, though, are going to love—love and be loved. First we were loved, now we love. [1 John 4:17-19]

We want to love. We recognize that as believers it is our calling to love – to love not only our friends and family but our enemies. And yet, we are afraid. and this is the true problem because the opposite of love is not, as might seem obvious, hatred. The opposite of love is fear.

First, we are often afraid to trust that God loves us – not just some blanket all-of-humankind-us, but the very specific me that is each one of us. We often don’t love ourselves, so how can we believe God loves us?

Our letter-writer today has an answer for that: When we take up permanent residence in a life of love, we live in God and God lives in us. This way, love has the run of the house, becomes at home and mature in us, so that we’re free of worry. Eventually, we simply have to take a giant leap of faith, past all our fear, and believe, trust, that we are loved – and then, as the writer tells us -- there is no room in love for fear because love banishes fear.

We are loved. God is not going to become something God isn’t just because we have trouble believing in God's reality. We are loved and there is nothing we can do about it. Every sunset and moonrise, every newborn’s first smile, every flower that insists on growing up through a slab of concrete, every smile from a stranger, every sunrise, every rainbow – each one tells us that we are loved.

When we are loved, we are allowed to love others in return. Not just the ones who are already easy to love but the often broken, messy others who – like us – are the beloved creation of a God who is love.

And because we are loved... we are going to love—love and be loved. First we were loved, now we love.

Amen.

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DO WE RECOGNIZE OURSELVES?

4/15/2018

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1 John 3:1-2

What marvelous love God has extended to us! Just look at it—we’re called children of God! That’s who we really are. But that’s also why the world doesn’t recognize us or take us seriously, because it has no idea who he is or what he’s up to.

But friends, that’s exactly who we are: children of God. And that’s only the beginning. Who knows how we’ll end up! What we know is that when Christ is openly revealed, we’ll see him—and in seeing him, become like him.

Today is the 3rd Sunday of Easter. Jesus’ disciples, it appears, are no less befuddled than they were last week.

Last week we heard what was, with the exception of his brief graveside conversation with Mary on Easter morning, Jesus’ first post-burial appearance, with the story of Doubting Thomas – the disciple who is more famous for missing that appearance than all the ones who were present that day. That story came from John’s gospel.

Today’s gospel reading offers us another first appearance – this time from Luke’s gospel account. This is the one that follows the Emmaus Road story. After they had recognized Jesus in the breaking of the bread, the two men from that story had rushed back to Jerusalem to tell the other disciples the amazing thing that had happened to them, when Jesus once again appeared in the middle of the room – frightening them all half out of their wits.

I said last week that these first post-Easter weeks are extremely important because they are the beginning of the formation of the faith we have inherited today. At the time of these stories, though, everything is still pretty chaotic. Jesus’ followers don’t understand what’s happening or what is expected of them.

The reading I choose from the offerings available to us this week is the epistle reading – specifically, what we just read from the first of the Johannine letters. We talked last week about the multiplicity of Johns in the New Testament. There is no universal agreement, but there does seem to be some consensus that the Gospel of John and the three Epistles of John were probably not written by the same author.

First John, written around the year 100, and the Gospel of John definitely have some similarities and the authors most likely came from the same community and tradition. Clearly, for the letter writer at least, the seventy years since Christ’s death and rising have produced an evolved Christology. Jesus is finally more than just a man approved and loved by God, a chosen and beloved son. For the Johannine writers Jesus IS God, the second person of the Trinity. The various Johns emphasize this in a way the other gospel and letter writers do not.

So, if this Jesus is Godself, then who are we in relationship to this Jesus/God?

"...we’re called children of God! That’s who we really are. But that’s also why the world doesn’t recognize us or take us seriously, because it has no idea who he is or what he’s up to. But friends, that’s exactly who we are: children of God. And that’s only the beginning. Who knows how we’ll end up! "

The world does not recognize who we are because the world doesn’t truly recognize Jesus – but the suggestion is also heavy here that we don’t really know who we are, either!

We are children of God. And if that isn’t mind-boggling enough, the letter-writer here today assures us there is more to come! We have no idea how we are eventually going to turn out. But regardless of what more is coming, at this very moment, at the very least, we are CHILDREN OF GOD!

Does the world not recognize us because it doesn’t recognize Jesus? Or is it the other way around – perhaps the world doesn’t recognize Jesus because we do not recognize who Jesus really is. Are we showing Jesus to the world -- as he is -- or just our own idea of Jesus? Are not presenting a very clear image of Jesus in ourselves.

Are we, as Christians, modeling Jesus in a manner the world can see and admire? As I go through my day, is there any chance that the world around me is getting a clearer picture of Jesus and his love for them? So many questions.

So here are some thoughts to ponder:

How does a child of God act?
What does a child of God do in this broken world?
How do we all interact with other children of God?
Is Jesus visible in and through us?

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WHO IS REALLY THE DOUBTER HERE?

4/8/2018

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John 20:19-29
When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you." After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, "Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you." When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, "Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained." But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, "We have seen the Lord." But he said to them, "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."

A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you." Then he said to Thomas, "Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe." Thomas answered him, "My Lord and my God!" Jesus said to him, "Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe."

Today is the Sunday after Easter. We’re coming down from our jellybean-high, the deviled eggs are finally all eaten.

We are, liturgically, still smack in the middle of Easter season, but it feels like all that Lent/Easter fuss and bother is over. There are just a few last-minute things like the Ascension and Pentecost to take care of and then we can slide into Ordinary Time until Advent rolls around again.

It may feel that way, but in actuality these are some of the most important weeks in the church year. These are the weeks when we join the early disciples in trying to figure out just what it means that the one we pin our hopes on died and then, somehow, is back again. How can that be, and what do we do with it?

The whole Easter story is one of those bible stories that we’ve heard so often that it seems entirely normal to us. There is no element of surprise. We’ve read the book and know how the story ends. We’ve never known another ending – Jesus lives! – ho-hum. We still have to get up and go to work tomorrow morning.

But it was anything but ho-hum for those who were there that week. Those who saw Jesus die – even if from a safe distance. Those who, a few days later, somehow saw him alive again. That would have been anything but a ho-hum event in their lives.

We all know today’s piece of the larger story, the one we always call “Doubting Thomas,” although it is quite clear that Thomas is not the only doubter here. The rest of the disciples aren’t locked up inside that room because they have such perfect faith that Jesus is going to show up and everything will be fine. They are there because everything has fallen apart and they are scared spitless that what happened to Jesus may be going to catch up with them and happen to them, as well.

And if any of them had thought that Jesus might, possibly, still be coming back, they might feel a little apprehensive about that, too. After all, most of them did fade into the woodwork rather quickly once Jesus was arrested. Only the women – and in one gospel, John also -- stuck around to be with Jesus to the end. Peter had been so afraid that he denied ever even knowing Jesus, right out in public. The disciples might well be thinking that even if Jesus should come back again, he would be a little ticked-off with them.

And then, there’s Thomas. One of those people that Nadia Bolz-Weber refers to as accidental saints – “people who inadvertently stumble into redemption like they were looking for something else at the time.” Thomas had apparently not worked himself up to the same level of panic that the other disciples had. He wasn’t locked in, hiding with the rest of them. We don’t know where he was – but he wasn’t there. I recall Frederick Buechner, in his story of Thomas, which is one of my favorites, saying something like “maybe he was just out looking for a good cup or coffee, or sitting in the park feeding the pigeons.” Anyway, he wasn’t hiding out with the others, which has always led me to question just who was the real “doubter” in this story.

I said at the beginning here that these next few weeks are important because these are the days we watch the first followers of Jesus try to figure out what the heck just happened. And it is important for us to be part of that process because it is what determines, in many ways, what we are doing here today.

Because – listen, because this is really important – because these were imperfect people, all of them – Thomas and all the rest. Stumblers. Bumblers. Dumb as rocks sometimes. Just like the rest of us. And yet they still, mostly, stuck with Jesus. Called to do so by something they couldn’t begin to identify.

And Jesus stuck with them. He didn’t say “oh, good grief!” and start over again with a better group of disciples. Not only did he stick with them, but these are the ones he sent – stumblers and bumblers all -- out to tell the rest of the world about it all.

And, the most important point, and here I have to quote Bolz-Weber one more time: “Never once did Jesus scan the room for the best example of holy living and send that person out to tell others about him. He always sent stumblers and sinners. I find that comforting.”

Well, I find it comforting, too. Because -- stumblers and sinners -- that’s us, too. Just as bumbling as those disciples we love to shake our heads at. We think we are qualified, but when was the last time you were really tested on your faith? We are as unready as anyone in those gospel accounts or in the Book of Acts. But – and this, too, is important – Jesus doesn’t see our weaknesses, our imperfections. He just uses us in spite of our imperfections. Our imperfections are where Jesus does his best work.

Jesus keeps calling, and we keep showing up – imperfections and all. Because Jesus lives – alleluia! Just don’t ask me how.

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"WHAT'S IN THE BAG?" EASTER SUNDAY 2018

4/1/2018

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Mark 16:1-8 The Message (MSG)

When the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices so they could prepare his body for burial. Very early on Sunday morning, as the sun rose, they went to the tomb. They worried out loud to each other, “Who will roll back the stone from the tomb for us?”

Then they looked up, saw that it had been rolled back—it was a huge stone—and walked right in. They saw a young man sitting on the right side, dressed all in white. They were completely taken aback, astonished.

He said, “Don’t be afraid. I know you’re looking for Jesus the Nazarene, the One they nailed on the cross. He’s been raised up; he’s here no longer. You can see for yourselves that the place is empty. Now—on your way. Tell his disciples and Peter that he is going on ahead of you to Galilee. You’ll see him there, exactly as he said.”

They got out as fast as they could, beside themselves, their heads swimming. Stunned, they said nothing to anyone.

My German friend, Ingrun, once had a child ask her what was in a paper bag she was holding. She pretended to think about it, then asked back, “What do you think could be in it?” and she and the child proceeded to launch into a game of “let’s pretend” as they came up with more and more exciting possibilities for what might be in the bag.

Until the child’s mother charged into the room and shouted, “There’s nothing in the bag! It’s empty! She’s just lying to you!”

Some people are happy to speculate on the possibilities for life – seeing the many wonderful things that might be.

Others, incapable of coping with uncertainty or speculation, would rather choose a “certainty” of nothing, rather than chance being mistaken. Some people, unfortunately, are incapable of hope. (But God is still working with them!)

Hope is exactly why we are here this morning.

We have just been through Holy Week, and chances are, we’ve been told somewhere in there that it is all our fault. That Jesus had to suffer because we were bad. This is, after all, the traditional point of view that we, most of us, have been given at some point in our lives. Jesus died for my sins. It’s all my fault.

But what if it isn’t all about judgment and guilt? What if the whole thing is about love?

It isn’t guilt that keeps us waiting in the darkness for the sun to rise again – it’s love. It isn’t guilt that finds us in the garden weeping, it’s grief at the loss of love.

Jesus did not die and rise again to show us how bad we are. He didn’t do it to show how powerful he was. He did it to lift us up and prove to us – as often as it takes – that we are loved. Loved beyond reason. Just loved.

We are redeemed, yes. Not redeemed from God’s judgment, because God only judges us as beloved children, but from our own brokenness – our self-inflicted selfishness and violence and cowardice – and our own self judgment that says we are never good enough. Of course we’re not “good enough,” whatever that is. What we are is loved, and through Christ’s living and dying we are redeemed from of own self-judgment, our own sense of unworthiness.

How does this all happen? I have no idea – it doesn’t matter that I don’t know “how.” What matters is that I believe it happens. I know, through my own experience of God in my life, that it happens.

I have recently been reading a book by Nadia Bolz-Weber, who is a Lutheran pastor and writer who ministers to the broken and lost among us (that would, of course, be all of us). In one of her Easter sermons she wrote: "God simply keeps reaching down into the dirt of humanity and resurrecting us from the graves we dig for ourselves through our violence, our lies, our selfishness, our arrogance, and our addictions. And God keeps loving us back to life over and over.”

God simply reaches into the dirt of humanity and raises us up from the graves we dig ourselves through our brokenness.

Jesus didn’t rise again to lift himself. He rose to lift us. He didn’t rise just to show that he could. He rose to show us that we can. He defied death to set us free from fear and absence of hope. On Easter morning, we are resurrected.

Again, Nadia Bolz-Weber: “Like Mary Magdalene, the reason we stand and weep and listen for Jesus is because we, like Mary, are bearers of resurrection, we are made new. On the third day, Jesus rose again, and we do not need to be afraid. To sing to God amidst sorrow is to defiantly proclaim, like Mary Magdalene did to the apostles, that death is not the final word. To defiantly say, once again, that a light shines in the darkness and the darkness cannot, will not, shall not overcome it. And so, evil be damned, because even as we go to the grave, we still make our song alleluia.”

Or as Rob Bell says it in one of my favorite lines – one that is tacked up, on a post-it note, over my computer: “The world is being redeemed – the tomb is empty – and a new creation is bursting forth right here in the midst of this one.”

Right here. Right now. With Jesus it isn’t about what happened 2000 years ago. For Jesus, all time is right now.

Today is Easter Sunday. It is also, this year, April Fool’s Day. I find that somehow fitting. As St. Paul so famously put it, there is a certain foolishness to our faith. Foolishness to trust in a story that is unlikely, at best. Foolish hope is all we have. We have no historically dependable record of what happened, just the written down remembrances of a small group of people who believed what they were writing. That’s it. So we either believe it or we don’t. We hope, or we don’t.

We question, we walk a tightrope between faith and doubt – but still we hope. We Christ-followers insist on believing – against all evidence except the evidence of our own hearts - that there is something perfectly wonderful to be found inside that paper bag.

He is risen, indeed. Alleluia!

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YOU CAN'T KNOW GOD IF YOU DON'T LOVE

DO WE RECOGNIZE OURSELVES?

WHO IS REALLY THE DOUBTER HERE?

"WHAT'S IN THE BAG?" EASTER SUNDAY 2018

Rev. Cherie Marckx

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