Luke 24:13-35: when Jesus is hard to recognize

I must admit that I struggled for some time trying to pick the right text for this past Sunday.  It is true that Easter helps narrow it down a little bit- something about the resurrection would be good.  But as ministers we are faced with a unique challenge when it comes to Easter and Christmas.  How do we bring an expected story in unexpected ways?  It was this struggle that led me to choose Luke 24:13-35 as the basis of my sermon.  It's a text about resurrection to be sure, but probably not the usual suspect when it comes to what the people are expecting to hear.  No empty tombs or angels arrayed in white here; simply a journey on a road leaving Jerusalem, with nothing but disappointment and disheartening experiences over our shoulders.
As I discussed my passage selection with another friend of mine in the ministry, he said something that confirmed my suspicion that perhaps there is something in this text that we as Christians need to hear, especially at Easter.  He said "most of us who have grown up in the church have had road to Emmaus experiences instead of road to Damascus experiences.  When we look back we see the Lord."  I think he's right.  There is something about this text that speaks to us because it reminds us that after the resurrection there is life to be lived, and work to be done. 
As the story goes, a pair of disciples are leaving Jerusalem after the events of the crucifixion and "rumored" resurrection.  During their journey to Emmaus the disciples fall in with a stranger, who unbeknownest to them, is actually Jesus.  In a bit of irony, the disciples express amazement at this strangers apparent ignorance of the recent days events, and they begin to actually recount to the risen Jesus all the things that have taken place in Jerusalem over the past week.  Their story is riddled with dejection, as they describe the high hopes that they had for their crucified master, even suggesting that he was the prophet like Moses that Israel had been waiting for, that he was the one who was to "redeem" Israel.  It seems to me that the disciples failure to understand God's working in the events that they describe is twofold.  First, they embrace the promise but not the pain of God's plan.  A brief glance at the career of Israel's prophets would show that while they brought words of hope (and sometimes judgment), they also paid a steep price to do so.  While it's easy for us to see their mistake, and perhaps even ask how they could be so blind, it isn't as easy to ask ourselves honestly whether we are guilty of making the same mistake ourselves.  Do we, like the disciples, embrace all of the promise but none of the pain that comes with following Christ?  The popularity of the "prosperity gospel" with so many Americans tells me that we do.  When we do embrace the blessings, all the while completely ignoring the pain that comes with discipleship, we only set ourselves up for crisis' of faith that loom on the horizon.  Make no mistake, ignoring pain does not abolish its existence as a reality in our world.  For that reason, we are better off to always remember that Jesus' call to take up our cross and follow him is a call composed of both promise and pain.  The difference, and this is the thing that makes the gospel the gospel, is that the promise will always outlive the pain. 
When I was a runner in high school, there was a saying that was popular in cross country circles.  The saying was "pain is temporary, pride is forever."  In other words, while it may hurt to push that extra little bit in practice, that pain will never outlast the pride of running faster than you have before (and hopefully faster than whoever you're racing that day).  I mention this because it leads us into the second mistake that the disciples made.  They associated Christ' crucifixion with permanent defeat, even seeming to give His death on the cross as the reason why he in fact would not be the one to redeem Israel.  There's that irony again.  The very thing that has led to the disciples deep depression over Jesus seeming failure to redeem Israel is in fact the very method by which Jesus would do just that.  Perhaps if I could borrow and edit the old phrase that was so popular when I was a runner, we could say that "the cross is temporary, but resurrection is forever."  Jesus sacrifice on the cross was an event fixed in time, and yet its salvific effects that find their expression in the resurrection are eternal.  We should note that the cross did have a major role to play in God's plan, and our instruction to take up our crosses and follow Christ ensures us that at some point we to will be made to suffer for our faith.  And yet, our pain will always be swallowed up in the victory that is Christ's resurrection. 
I can't really blame the disciples for not recognizing Jesus.  Never in their wildest dreams did they imagine that they would be following a crucificed Lord.  The question for contempory Christians is do others recognize in us their crucified Lord?  Do they see through our actions a God whose love is demonstrated in sacrifice?  Like the disciples who came before them it might not be what they are expecting, but I guarantee you it's what they need. 

Ephesians 2:11-22: "good fences make bad neighbors"

What better way to take a break from writing this week's sermon, than to write about last week's?  In all seriousness, this second half of Ephesians 2 is a text that has captured my imagination for quite some time.  The theme of Christ's power to unify is perhaps most intense in this section of Ephesians.  It's a theme prevalent throughout the entire epistle, and yet here we find imagery that brings life to the rhetoric.  Centuries before President Reagan stood in Germany and pleaded with Mikhail Gorbachev to "tear down this wall", Paul was pleading with Christians to begin the work of dismantling the barriers that divide us.  A brief survey of history shows us that while we acknowledge the past necessity of walls in some instances, we never look back on the time in which they were built as banner periods for human relations.  It is true that we marvel at the engineering feat that is the Great Wall of China, but if we were to travel back to the time when it was built, the people would probably react with amazement when told that the wall would become a huge tourist attraction.  They didn't build the wall to attract tourist, they built it to keep tourists (in the form of nomadic raiders) out.  The Great Wall is no exception, walls are the very symbols of divison.  Hadrian's Wall was built to keep the Picts in the northern part of Britain during the Roman occupation.  At Fredericksburg, Confederate soldiers stood behind a stone wall and mowed down attacking Federal troops, while at Gettysburg northern troops stood behind a wall and returned the favor by annihilating the southern troops mounting Pickett's charge.  And yet the usefulness of walls is not limited to their ability to keep things out, they can also be used to keep things in.  The Berlin Wall was constructed to keep people in the eastern bloc, not keep them out.  The American poet Robert Frost addresses this topic of walls in his poem "Mending Wall" (an example I am shamelessly stealing from one of my former churches worship committees, which I fully disclose in an effort to give credit where credit is due).  There is a line in the poem that I think we as Christians should identify with.  Frost states:
"Before I built a wall I'd ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offence.
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That wants it down."
That something is God.  Paul tells us in his letter to the Ephesians that God takes such offense at walls that he gave the life of His very Son so that all the barriers separating us from God, all the barriers separating us from each other, could be torn down.  Just as Jew and Gentile were formerly seperated by the mark in the flesh we know as circumcision, now they both have the common experience of being ransomed by the human flesh of the living God.  As the church, do we stop to ask ourselves what it is we are walling in, and what it is we are walling out, when we set to putting up barriers?  I feel that if we did, we would find that sometimes our fears drive us to a point of tragic irony, where we feverishly begin to rebuild the wall that Christ tore down, walling in God's love, and walling out those who need it most in the process.  Like Frost, may we ask serious questions of ourselves before we put up barriers to the Gospel.  In the words of Frost, may we remember that we serve a God who "doesn't love a wall, that wants it down".          

Ephesians 2:1-10: the biggest "but" in history...

Scandalous title huh?  Hopefully you noticed that there is only one "t" in the but. 
There are two things that I think are very relevant for contemporary Christians in the first part of Ephesians 2.  The first, is the honesty with which Paul addresses the Ephesians.  There is no sugar-coating the past of the Ephesians on Paul's part. 
He gives it to them straight: "And YOU were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience-" (Ephesians 2:1-2)  I doubt any of the Christians in Ephesus cared to be reminded of their sordid past, and yet, Paul underlines their sinful past so that his teaching on grace to really sink in.  It would be hard for any of them to stake a claim as being righteousness of their own accord after Paul's dredging up of their not-so-righteous past.  Sadly, too many of us stop there in forming our own approach towards others, particularly others with checkered pasts.  We use Paul as our blueprint in forming our attitudes, without taking the time to read all of what Paul has to say.  All we need to do is read the very next verse and we will see that Paul's attitude is actually one of empathy, rather than judgment.  "Among whom WE ALL once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind."  (Ephesians 2:3)  As I was driving back from visiting someone in the hospital in Pineville today-shocking, but the metropolis of Glenmora doesn't have a hospital- I was flipping through the radio stations looking for something to listen to on the way home.  I came across what sounded like a sermon, so I stopped.  Normally I flip right on through anything that sounds like a radio sermon, because so many of them sound angry and belligerent.  However, for some reason this time I stopped to listen for a minute, and I am glad I did.  The preacher (not sure who he was) was talking about what it means for Christians to be meek, and he said something I thought was really insightful.  He said, "evangelism is not about someone who knows a lot teaching someone who knows little or nothing at all, rather it's one beggar telling another where he can find bread."  What a great way of describing our calling as Christians.  We are all beggars in this world when it comes to our need for grace.  When we remember that, when we recall the hunger pains we once felt deep in our soul when we walked according to "the course of this world", how can we not but share with others where the bread of life can be found?

Now to that huge "but" I referred to earlier, which is the second thing that is extremely cogent for contemporary Christians.  Paul spends the first three verses of Ephesians 2 painting a crystal clear picture as to our own righteousness.  It doesn't exist, at least not when we are left to our own devices.  Here is where that "but" comes in, and it's a huge one.  You see, normally we associate the word "but" with bad news.  Sometimes it comes in the context of a relationship; "I have a great time when I am with you, but I think we should just be friends."  (Not that I have ever heard that one before)  Sometimes we hear it in the workplace; "we appreciate the work you've done for us, but the company is going through a tough time economically, and we are going to have to let some people go..."  Or perhaps the scariest of all scenarios; "we ran all the tests and everything looked good, but then we found a spot..."  When we get to verse four of Ephesians 2, Paul gives us the good news we have been waiting for using a word that we have become accustomed to associating with bad news: "BUT God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ- by grace you have been saved- and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus." (Ephesians 2:4-6)  I think that's just the way it should be written, an appropriate way of relating in writing what God does in our world.  He takes things, including people, that we have become accustomed to viewing in a negative way and injects them with new life, and a new image.  As Paul goes on to say, it's all because we are now "alive together with Christ."  Through God's grace our fates have been tied together with that of Christ, and that can only mean one thing, resurrection.  The Son of God was once dead, as were we all; but now he lives, and because of that we have life through Him. 
It's amazing how big one little "but" can be...

            

My favorite part of this job...

If you know me, then you know I like to talk.  So, it would be entirely reasonable to think that the opportunity to preach regularly would be my favorite thing about this job.  To be honest, as I was preparing to begin my work here, I was certain that would be the case.  I mean, you combine the ability to talk to a captive audience- captive because of their respect for church, not my eloqence- and some nerdy Bible study, and you would think I was in heaven (pun intended).  However, after two Sundays I can tell you that preaching is not my favorite aspect of my work here.  Don't get me wrong, just as I expected, I love doing it.  However, my absolute favorite task, one that I take great joy in, is taking communion to the sick.  I love it for two reasons. 
The first is the character of the people that I am visiting.  These are people that very much yearn to be at church with their brothers and sisters in Christ, but their bodies simply won't get them there.  I always sense a sharper focus and a greater sense of appreciation from those we visit with.  For some reason, we humans are programmed so that it's harder for us to appreciate something until it's gone, or at least we think it's gone.  It's a great paradox.  Frequent worship is the calling of all humanity (not just Christians), a calling that not only blesses the God to whom our praise and worship is due, but that also gives us and sustains in us spiritual life and health.  And yet, a result of that frequency is that we constantly battle the urge to take for granted what we worship, proclaim, and participate in.  To the woman in her eighties whose foot is so swollen that it hurts to walk, worship is more than an obligation.  To the man in his seventies who has just had a rod placed in his leg, and his wife who serves as his constant care-taker, praise is more than a simple duty.  To the man in his eighties laying in the hospital in great pain and unable to keep down any food, and to his wife who remains by his side, participation in worship is a joy.
The other reason I love taking communion to the sick is that it is an extremely Christ-like action that never fails to humble my ego, even as it simultaneously builds my faith.  One of the most comforting images in the Bible is Christ as the Good Sheperd.  It is quite literally the personification of the 23rd Psalm with Christ walking with us, even through the valley of the shadow of death.  What better way to proclaim that truth than to ensure that our brothers and sisters who are experiencing the most trying of times have an opportunity to participate in communion with us?  So often when we think of pastoral imagery and of people as sheep, we find ourselves stuck in the dichotomy of faithful and faithless.  Surely the lost sheep that Christ leaves the ninty-nine to go find is some wayward sinner- or even wayward Christian, not that the two don't overlap- desperately in need of repentance.  On the contrary, I think that more often than we realize, the sheep has not wondered off in some fit of willful disobedience, but instead has fallen victim to one of life's many misfortunes.  One of the things that I will never forget from my time as a chaplain intern is the number of people who are seemingly abandoned in their greatest hour of need.  We live in a time when family is seldom close by, and neighbors are nameless faces we see in transit from our cars to our front doors.  As disciples of Christ, it is left to us to go in search of other brothers and sisters who are wounded and ill, burdened with the unaviodable cares and sorrows of this life.  It falls to us to make certain that they are never left so far behind that the voice of their Master dies away, as if it were never present in the first place.  What better way to help them maintain the presence of Jesus in their life than with communion, the symbols of Christ victory over sin and death.  What better way to remind them that they are loved not only by their God, but also by a community of fellow believers, than with communion, the emblems of the promise that pain and sorrow will never have the final say in our present world that remains broken in so many ways.
Yes, as much as I love preaching, it isn't my favorite part of this job.  Now you know why.      

Ephesians 1:15-21: Paul's Prayer for the Ephesians

As a began preparing for my first sermon at a new church, I didn't have to think long before I knew where I had to start.  In writing to the Christians at Ephesus Paul addresses not only the church as a body, but also the individual disciples that together form that body.  Specifically, Paul is interested in seeing that they embrace the promises rooted in the present that come with Christ's resurrection.  In his prayer for the Ephesian church, Paul specifically asks that they "know the immeasureable greatness of His power toward us, that He worked in Christ Jesus when he raised him from the dead." (italics mine)  It's easy to miss at first, but when we slow down and actually digest what Paul is saying here we are struck with the immensity of God's grace.  A grace bound up not only in some future hope of eternal life, but also in the ability to experience Christ's resurrection in the present, as God disentangles us from our past life of sin and death.  Indeed, I would go so far as to say that if we think that resurrection is only about eternal life, then we have missed the point entirely.  Resurrection is about being alive to to God, which in turn launches us into a relationship rooted in eternity.  Living eternally without God, without the hope of redemption and unconditional love, is no life at all.  I guess the point I am trying to make is that this passage has helped me to see that the resurrected life, the life we are promised through Christ, as everything to do with quality of life rather than the quantity of our years.  Only the years illuminated by God's presence are worth enjoying in perpetuity.      
When the understand the power that resurrection has not only for our future, but also for our present, it is easy to understand why Paul prayed so fervently for the Ephesians to embrace that reality in their lives.  While Paul's prayer was grounded in the historical context of the New Testament church, its power to shape and inspire us is not limited to the 1st century.  In fact, in some sense Paul's prayer will only be answered if we, almost two-thousand years later, lift up the same petition, our words prompted by a longing for Christ and the power of His resurrection to invigorate our churches once again. 

"May the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of Glory, give us a spirt of wisdom and of revelation in the knowledge of Him. 
May He enlighten the eyes of our heart, that we may know the hope to which we have been called, that we may know the riches of our glorious inheritence in the saints, and what is the immeasureable greatness of His power toward us who believe, according to the working of His great might that He worked in Christ Jesus when He raised Him from the dead and seated Him at His right hand in the heavenly places.
Amen"

Really quick...

My laptop hasn't arrived yet, but I wanted to drop a note just to say that I made it safely to Louisiana.  Pray that my family makes it safely back to Georgia, as they left this morning.  More details to follow.