April 20 sermon - The Greatest Challenge Facing The Church

Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene went to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the entrance. So she came running to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one Jesus loved, and said, "They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we don't know where they have put Him!" So Peter and the other disciple started for the tomb. Both were running, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. He bent over and looked in at the strips of linen lying there but did not go in. Then Simon Peter, who was behind him, arrived and went into the tomb. He saw the strips of linen lying there, as well as the burial cloth that had been around Jesus' head. The cloth was folded up by itself, separate from the linen. Finally the other disciple, who had reached the tomb first, also went inside. He saw and believed. (They still did not understand from Scripture that Jesus had to rise from the dead.) Then the disciples went back to their homes, but Mary stood outside the tomb crying. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb and saw two angels in white, seated where Jesus' body had been, one at the head and the other at the foot. They asked her, "Woman, why are you crying?" "They have taken my Lord away," she said, "and I don't know where they have put him." At this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not realize that it was Jesus. "Woman" He said, "why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?" Thinking He was the gardener, she said, " Sir, if you have carried Him away, tell me where you have put Him, and I will get Him." Jesus said to her, "Mary." She turned toward Him and cried out in Aramaic, "Rabboni!" (which means Teacher.) Jesus said, "Do not hold on to Me, for I have not yet returned to the Father. Go instead to My brothers and tell them, "I am returning to My Father and your Father, to My God and your God." Mary Magdalene went to the disciples with the news: "I have seen the Lord!" And she told them that He had said these things to her. (John 20:1-18)

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     We live in a society which many people say is biblically illiterate; where people don't know the basic stories of the Bible or the faith anymore. In some respects I suppose that's true, and yet there are still signs of a lurking familiarity with what Christian faith is about. Christian themes often fill secular movies for example. I think back to James Cameron's blockbuster “Titanic.” Near the end of the movie is a scene in which Rose is clinging to what appears to be a headboard, while Jack hangs on the the headboard in the water. As he tries to climb on board, the headboard begins to tip, almost spilling Rose off into the frigid North Atlantic. Not willing that she should perish, Jack sacrifices himself, staying in the water until he froze to death, in order that Rose could live. There's at least a nod to Good Friday, as Jesus gives Himself for the world. Then, in the last scenes of the movie, Rose (now elderly in the present day) goes to bed. It's a bit of an open question whether she falls asleep and has a dream or whether she actually dies in her sleep. I prefer the latter, to be honest. As the famous song by Celine Dion (My Heart Goes On) plays, suddenly Rose is reunited with Jack on the famous staircase of the Titanic, in the place she had always wanted to be, in the place where she was happiest – a nod this time to life overcoming death, and the promise of eternity free from the troubles of this world; an assurance that the challenges she had faced as the ship sank and Jack died would be overcome. A classic Easter theme, in other words.

     The church of 2014 is facing more than its fair share of challenges. I don't know that anyone with eyes to see would possibly be able to deny that. The society in which we live is very different from the society that greeted the first Easter morning two thousand years ago, but in some respects that only serves to confirm the truth of the old saying, "the more things change, the more they stay the same." Living with challenges of one kind or another has always been a part of the Christian experience, it seems. Think back with me for a few moments to the situation that faced the disciples as the first Easter dawned.

     It was a pretty bleak situation. The disciples of Jesus had committed their lives to Him. The disciples of Jesus had given up everything to follow Him. And where had it led them? To the foot of the cross, where the One they had chosen to follow had been put to a gruesome death. Except that it hadn't even led most of them to the foot of the cross. From what we read in Scripture, all the disciples (except for some of the women and John) had fled long before Jesus' death. They found themselves faced with a hopeless situation, and - terrified - they had fled. They had no hope. All that mattered to them was gone. Then, as the morning came, Mary Magdalene approached the tomb - but without hope, expecting that she would find nothing more than a dead body in a tomb. The other Gospels suggest to us that Mary Magdalene wasn't alone; that some other women had come to the tomb with her - but still with no hope, planning only to prepare Jesus' dead body according to Jewish custom. The stone being rolled away didn't seem to change much. Mary Magdalene ran to tell the men, but Peter and John seemed confused more than hopeful, not understanding what had happened, leaving the tomb probably scratching their heads at the mystery but not seeming to have grasped what had happened. And, finally, Mary Magdalene took centre stage again, still without hope, still simply wondering where the dead body of Jesus was, still so lost in her grief that she couldn't even recognize Jesus standing in front of her. All these are scenes of hopelessness - total and abject hopelessness. We think of Easter morning as the greatest festival of our faith - a day of joy and hope. We forget that we do that only because we know how the Easter story turns out. At its start, the first Easter morning had dawned as bleakly as the days preceding it. The Christian faith was born not in glorious light, but in the pit of despair.

     Now, we fast forward two thousand years. We're part of a church facing many challenges. Sometimes things seem pretty bleak. We offer a lot of laments about our situation and we sometimes seem to fear what the future holds, and at times we feel pretty aimless, wandering with little sense of purpose and questioning whether God has a role for us to play; maybe - dare I say it - wondering if God is even with us anymore; possibly (in our deepest moments of doubt) even wondering if God really is! And it's not uncommon for people to come to me and ask "what's the greatest challenge facing the church today?" And my answer often surprises them.

     You see, people have certain expectations of what I'll say when I'm asked that question. Some assume that I'll say it's declining attendance. Some assume that I'll say it's an aging membership. Some assume that I'll say it's our finances. These are the things we talk about on a regular basis. These are the problems we try desperately to solve; the challenges we try frantically to overcome - but are any of them our greatest challenge? I'd say not. So, back to the question - what's the greatest challenge facing the church today? Simply put - it's the lack of something that an Easter people who follow a risen Lord should never lack. The greatest challenge facing the church today is a loss of hope; a belief that things can't change - except for the worse: a sense that we're in a downward spiral that we can't climb out of.

     But how is that possible for the followers of Jesus? How can those who follow Jesus (who died and was alive again) possibly lose hope? We allow ourselves to be so easily overwhelmed by the challenges that face us - but Jesus died. That was truly overwhelming for His followers. But then came the moment. "Mary," said the resurrected Jesus. And light shone, and hope was born anew, and Mary finally saw Him. She knew that Jesus had told them the truth. "I am with you always," He had said, "to the very end of the age." And Mary ran and told the others, "I have seen the Lord." And that small group, who not long before had been totally bereft of hope, went on to change the world.

     It seems to me that when Mary cried out, "I have seen the Lord!" she was saying it as much to us as she was to the disciples of her own day. It's a reminder to us that we can experience the presence of Jesus just as much as those first disciples, and if we can be as convinced as they were that Jesus died and then rose again then how can we be without hope? We have our challenges to overcome, and they can seem daunting. They had their challenges to overcome, and no doubt they seemed daunting. But challenges fade away when we choose to reclaim the hope of the resurrection.

     The church needs to reclaim hope, and that shouldn't be that hard. Those of us who dare to proclaim that we follow Jesus - Who died and rose again - should never be without hope; we should be the most hopeful of people; the first to believe that any challenge can be overcome. This is the effect Easter should have on us! This is the difference Easter should make to us! The Book of Hebrews says that "we have this hope as an anchor ... firm and secure." The author wasn't speaking of Easter. He was speaking more generally of God's promises, but God's promises culminate in the resurrection of Jesus from the dead. When we proclaim that "Christ is risen" - we're not stating a point of doctrine to be debated. We're proclaiming the great hope of our faith. The One Who overcame death can also overcome any challenge we might face, no matter how overwhelming the challenge might seem - even the greatest challenge we might face. So, yes - Christ is risen! As His people, may we live always in the hope of resurrection!

April 18 sermon (Good Friday) - Living The Crucifixion

When I came to you, brothers and sisters, I did not come proclaiming the mystery of God to you in lofty words or wisdom. For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and him crucified. And I came to you in weakness and in fear and in much trembling. My speech and my proclamation were not with plausible words of wisdom,but with a demonstration of the Spirit and of power, so that your faith might rest not on human wisdom but on the power of God.  (1 Corinthians 2:1-5, NRSV)

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     A number of years ago, the New York Times printed the results of a survey that asked people to rank one hundred historical events in order of their importance. The results were quite interesting. Those who responded declared the so-called discovery of America by Christopher Columbus  to be the most important event in history – this in spite of the fact that Columbus didn't actually discover America! A number of other things followed, until finally they came to fourteenth place, where three historical events were locked in a tie: the discovery of X-rays, the first airplane flight by the Wright brothers, and the crucifixion of Jesus. Fourteenth place is all the crucifixion could manage – and a tie for fourteenth place at that. Even the Leafs managed to finish in twelfth place! But the world neither respects nor understands the crucifixion of Jesus. Just the other day, a picture was posted on Facebook of a note that had been written by someone. The note simply read: “Justin Bieber is being crucified by the world. Justin Bieber is the Messiah.” This is the respect the crucifixion of Jesus is given – to be compared to the self-inflicted troubles of a self-indulgent and spoiled teen idol.

     Whether it's the survey or the comparison of Justin Bieber to Christ, it makes me ask the question of what we as Christains should think about Jesus' crucifixion. Is the crucifixion just another one of the important events in human history that caught people's attention, or is it a defining moment (perhaps the defining moment) in human history – a moment so significant that it caused Paul to say that he had “decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and him crucified.”

     One of the things we have to admit – if we're being honest – is that our thoughts about the crucifixion are shrouded in mystery. When we stand at the foot of the cross, we tremble. We see a picture of a man living his last hours in horrible agony, with blood flowing out of his hands and feet, left hanging in the hot sun, thirsty, with life draining out of him. It's offensive – it's even gruesome! And yet, however ugly it might be, when we let ourselves ponder the cross for a while, we find that the cross brings us very near to the heart of God. Even if we can't fully understand the cross, we can experience the cross. We can feel its power. We can sense its importance. The power of the cross is found in the fact that for those who believe, the cross is where we meet both God and ourselves.

     You see, the cross teaches us about ourselves. It demonstrates to us the awfulness of the human condition. It reminds us that all of us are desperately in need of the grace of God. Though some have tried, the cross can't just be explained away as the result of a corrupt political system or a religion that had become spiritually bankrupt. If that's all it was, then fourteenth place ain't so bad really! But to look at the crucifixion that way is to remove ourselves from the scene and make us merely passive observers. The truth of the matter is that when we confront the cross, we discover ourselves there – perhaps to our great discomfort. When we fully grasp the significance of the cross, we realize that we can't lay the blame for the cross on “the system” or on a “religion.” We can't find anyone or anything to lay the blame for the crucifixion on simply because the crucifixion was the result of the human condition – and we, with all our weaknesses and sins and failures – are the modern day representatives of the human condition. So, when we look at the cross we should see ourselves standing behind it and not others. The cross should cause us not to lay blame but to take responsibility.

     But if the cross causes us to confront things we really prefer to avoid – pain and blood and ugliness and sin and guilt (ourselves at our very worst, you might say) – there is nevertheless something else. At the cross is also where we see the love of God shining forth most powerfully. God was involved in what He created from the very beginning. In Jesus' birth and life, we saw God directly involved in the world He created. But it was in Jesus' death that God's involvement with the world and God's involvement with each of us became personal. The one who came down from heaven to take on human form was obedient even to death on a cross, as Paul says in Philippians. Jesus' life wasn't just a life – it was love poured out, and never was it poured out more freely than at the cross. “For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son ...” God gave the best and most precious He had so that we could know the fullness of life. And this kind of love – the kind of love that shows itself in a man who's willing to give everything He has for people He hardly knows (the kind of love shown by Jesus) – has the power to attract people. It has the power to call forth commitment from our hearts and souls.

     The crucifixion shows us the most powerful of lives – the life that gets freely poured out for others. Most of our thinking and most of our preaching on the crucifixion – when we think about it or preach about it at all – never quite gets that far. We do exactly what Paul tells us not to do. We speak words of human wisdom. We define the crucifixion, we defend it, we explain it – but when all is said and done we generally go back out into a secular world and we live as though the crucifixion has little relevance to our daily lives. We'd be a lot more faithful if we actually did what Paul talked about – if we actually went out into the world “with a demonstration of the Spirit and of power” - a demonstration we make by actually living the crucifixion. That sounds challenging, but it's really rather simple. The crucifixion being put into action is simply our lives being poured out in the service and for the well-being of others.

     When we look at the crucifixion this way, then we start to realize that it isn't just another event in history. The crucifixion is a way of life. It's life that's lived not out of self-love, but rather out of self-denial. It's life that's lived not for ourselves but for others. It's only when the crucifixion becomes a way of life for us that Christian faith starts to make a difference. Unless a person really starts to live the crucifixion, it's hard to say that they're living a Christian life.

     So, then, what are we going to say about the crucifixion today? It's easy to become emotional about it. It's easy to become overwhelmed by the agony of Jesus' death, by the gruesome and bloody scene of the execution. Maybe we become so overwhelmed that tears come to our eyes. But it isn't tears that we need in response to the crucifixion. Not really. What do we need then? There's an old gospel hymn that says, “Drops of grief can ne'er repay the debt of love I owe.” If not tears (those drops of grief), what then? The hymn-writer goes on: “Here, Lord, I give myself away; 'tis all that I can do.” That's what we need. That's the meaning of the crucifixion. That's how we live the crucifixion each day – by giving of ourselves for the sake of others, and not counting the cost, just as Jesus did – an abandoned man, the Son of God, left hanging on a cross to die, and doing it for the sake of the world – including each one of us. What a debt of love, indeed!

April 13 sermon - Walking In The Light Of The King Of Kings

Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good; His love endures forever. Let Israel say: “His love endures forever.” Open for me the gates of the righteous; I will enter and give thanks to the Lord. ... This is the gate of the Lord through which the righteous may enter. I will give You thanks, for You answered me; You have become my salvation. The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; the Lord has done this, and it is marvellous in our eyes. The Lord has done it this very day; let us rejoice today and be glad. Lord, save us! Lord, grant us success! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord. From the house of the Lord we bless you. The Lord is God, and He has made His light shine on us. With boughs in hand, join in the festal procession up to the horns of the altar. You are my God, and I will praise You; You are my God, and I will exalt You. Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good; His love endures forever. (Psalm 118:1-2, 19-29)

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     Every year there's a big Easter parade held in The Beaches neighbourhood of Toronto. I was reading about it the other day. Apparently there's a bit of controversy about it this year. Now, you might ask (and it would be a good question) what could possibly be controversial about an Easter parade? Well, it seems that traditionally the parade has included among its marchers many of the local politicians in that area of the city, but this year the organizers put out an edict – the politicians are welcome to attend the parade, and stand at the side of the road along with the other spectators, but they're not going to be allowed to march in the parade. There's a couple of reasons that have been bandied about for that. First is that traditionally one of the marchers is the Mayor of Toronto, and apparently there's some concern that Rob Ford may not represent exactly the kind of “family values” that the organizers want to see in an Easter parade. And it's been noted that in recent years some of the politicians marching have been conspicuous for wearing orange and carrying orange bags of candy to hand out – which happens to denote their partisan affiliation as well, and the organizers have decided that an Easter parade isn't the appropriate place for partisanship. Whatever the reason, the politicians are quite upset by this. I haven't seen anyone suggest that the organizers are concerned or that the community is upset, but apparently the politicians want their moment in the sun, and standing at the side of the road watching the Beaches Easter Parade isn't enough sunlight! They want to be right in the middle of things. 

     I don't know if I have sympathy for the politicians or not to be honest. It is, after all, an Easter parade – and the invitation to parade with Jesus is certainly given to all of us. Whether the Beaches Easter Parade really qualifies as a Christian event is, of course, open to interpretation. I am aware of one local councillor who apparently marched a few years ago dressed in a bunny costume – and as far as I can remember there's no bunnies in the Bible! But the controversy over the parade could be considered symbolic, I suppose – and it perhaps reminds us of a point: the invitation to march behind Jesus is there for everyone, and the organizers of that parade – who, I suppose, would be the church, which so often sets itself up in judgement about how does and doesn't qualify as a Christian – seem to me to be on some pretty shaky ground when they start to deny someone's right to join the parade.

     Palm Sunday, you see, is essentially a description of a parade. Oh, it's not a parade like the Beaches Easter parade – but a parade it is. Think of these words from Mark's Gospel: 

 Those who went ahead and those who followed shouted,  “Hosanna!” “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!” “Blessed is the coming kingdom of our father David!” “Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

     Here you have a picture of Jesus and His band of followers parading into Jerusalem. A parade is a good description of what was happening: people were excited; people were joyful; people were crying out in happiness at what they were seeing. What we have – at least in this part of the Palm Sunday story  - is surely a symbol of the way in which Christians today should react and respond to Jesus. We're called to follow Jesus. We're called to lead others in following Jesus. We're called to show joy, excitement and happiness as a result of our relationship with Jesus. And yet, all too often the excitement seems lost, the joy seems missing, the happiness seems elusive. But think of these words from Psalm 118:

The Lord is God, and He has made His light shine on us. With boughs in hand, join in the festal procession up to the horns of the altar. You are my God, and I will praise You; You are my God, and I will exalt You.

     When we walk with Jesus – Who is God With Us – we're walking in the light of God, and it's a joyous thing. I've been talking about valleys the last couple of weeks. We all get into valleys from time to time. Stuck somewhere, with no obvious exit or escape. And that can be frightening, and that can be frustrating. But the light of God somehow brings us through when we join that “festal procession” that today is composed of those who walk alongside Jesus. But we don't want to paint to rosy a picture of what it is to be a Christian, as if Christians are never going to experience hardships or difficulties. That would be ridiculous. We may walk through the dark valleys with the light of God leading us, but often (and perhaps usually) it's cyclical. The dark valleys come and go. We're in; we're out. We sin, we fail, we make mistakes (however you want to put it) and we can easily find ourselves trapped back in the darkness – confused, ashamed, guilt-ridden. After all, the joy of Palm Sunday was followed by the horror of Good Friday, which was followed by the ecstasy of Easter, which was followed by the darkness of persecution directed against Jesus' disciples. There are ups and downs. But the downs don't have to trap us, because, if we're open to God's leading, once again we will find that light of God leading us out. I'm not suggesting that we just have licence to keep falling into the bad behaviours because God will get us out. Bad behaviours have bad consequences. God expects us to be transformed – which is a life long process. There will always be ups and downs, but the goal of the Christian life is that increasingly as time goes on there will be more ups than downs, bad behaviours will fade away, guilt will stop burdening us, and we will move on.

     In the meantime, we walk with Jesus. We rejoice, we cry out “Hosanna!” Because we recognize that with the King of kings, we walk in the light that takes away any darkness.

April 6 sermon - The Life Giving Breath Of God

The hand of the Lord was on me, and He brought me out by the Spirit of the Lord and set me in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones. He led me back and forth among them, and I saw a great many bones on the floor of the valley, bones that were very dry. He asked me, “Son of man, can these bones live?” I said, “Sovereign Lord, You alone know.” Then He said to me, “Prophesy to these bones and say to them, ‘Dry bones, hear the word of the Lord! This is what the Sovereign Lord says to these bones: I will make breath enter you, and you will come to life. I will attach tendons to you and make flesh come upon you and cover you with skin; I will put breath in you, and you will come to life. Then you will know that I am the Lord’” So I prophesied as I was commanded. And as I was prophesying, there was a noise, a rattling sound, and the bones came together, bone to bone. I looked, and tendons and flesh appeared on them and skin covered them, but there was no breath in them. Then He said to me, “Prophesy to the breath; prophesy, son of man, and say to it, ‘This is what the Sovereign Lord says: Come, breath, from the four winds and breathe into these slain, that they may live.’” So I prophesied as He commanded me, and breath entered them; they came to life and stood up on their feet - a vast army. Then He said to me: “Son of man, these bones are the people of Israel. They say, ‘Our bones are dried up and our hope is gone; we are cut off.’ Therefore prophesy and say to them: ‘This is what the Sovereign Lord says: My people, I am going to open your graves and bring you up from them; I will bring you back to the land of Israel. Then you, my people, will know that I am the Lord, when I open your graves and bring you up from them. I will put My Spirit in you and you will live, and I will settle you in your own land. Then you will know that I the Lord have spoken, and I have done it, declares the Lord.’” (Ezekiel 37:1-14)

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     Thinking back to last week for a moment, I suppose you could say that we've made a U-turn, and having walked through the valley, now we're back in the valley! Last Sunday, I spoke a bit about valleys; how they can be ominous places – places that can be dark, places that can seem to close in on you, places where there can easily seem to be no escape. There may be no more ominous imagery used in the Bible for a valley than the imagery used by Ezekiel – who offers for us a picture of a valley full of dry bones. I don't know about you, but when I read these words, I get a picture of a desert, probably the old West in the United States. It's dry, it's barren, and for the most part it's lifeless – and the things we find there that are alive are probably things we'd really rather not encounter. Or perhaps you think of the elephant graveyard from the Disney movie The Lion King – a dry, barren, rocky wasteland that's constantly covered in a fog that makes it dark, even in the daytime. If you know the movie, this is the unpleasant place visited by the lion cubs Simba and Nala, where they found all sorts of dangers – not the least of which was a pack of wild and unpleasant hyenas!

     Whether it's the Old West, or Disney's The Lion King or Ezekiel's prophecy it's the dry bones that makes such a place seem he most ominous. They're dry and they're lifeless. They can't move, they have no power, no strength. There may be no more hopeless image that you are ever going to find in the entire Bible than a valley full of “dry bones.” Think of that. It wasn't only a valley where you would find “dry bones.” This place was full of “dry bones.” Last week we talked about the 23rd Psalm, and the traditional wording of the 23rd Psalm, which refers to “the valley of the shadow of death.” That's ominous, but there's also a sort of poetic quality to it. The words don't perhaps grate as much as we might expect them to. But Ezekiel is apparently no poet. He simply introduces us to this ominous valley full of “dry bones.” The “dry bones” represent a lot of things, but perhaps the most important is what I've already mentioned – in general, they represent things that are lifeless and serving no purpose, accomplishing very little, except perhaps becoming treasure troves for future archaeologists! But when “dry bones” become content with just being something for future study but have little to offer in the present day, then that's the final confirmation that they're really dead. When we think about the valley of “dry bones” today we can understand the vision in one of three ways – all of which have meaning for us.

     In Ezekiel's own context, the “dry bones” are Israel. As with a lot of the prophets, Ezekiel wrote with the experience of the exile in his mind – with the Jewish people forced out of their homeland after being conquered by Babylon. Ezekiel wrote shortly after the exile; within a few years of that event. The Jewish people were still in shock; still wondering what had gone wrong; still wondering what they had done wrong; perhaps wondering if their God was really God. And, as often happens, a people who find themselves in a collective state of shock had found themselves lifeless, with seemingly nothing left to care about. Everything they valued, everything they cherished had been taken away from them; all that they had believed and placed their faith in suddenly seemed meaningless.

     If we look into our own day, the comparison to the church is obvious. So much of what we used to have and what we used to be has been taken away it seems, or at least lost. Our numbers, our money, our power, our prestige, our energy, our morale – it's all either gone or it's rapidly dwindling, and the future can often seem threatening rather than hopeful; devoid of possibilities. If we look into our own lives, too often we find comparisons there as well. For far too many people, life becomes a drudgery – no longer something to be enjoyed, but the proverbial “daily grind” as we go about our business, sometimes feeling like little more than cogs in a machine, sometimes feeling as if our lives have little purpose. In both those situations – either the situation of the church or in our own personal lives, we can start to feel like little more than “dry bones” - with neither life nor hope, existing but not living, there but not really making much of a difference. The prophet Ezekiel sees all this as God reveals it to him – and the vision surely could have been overwhelming. It would have been easy to get trapped in this valley of “dry bones.” But he didn't get trapped. He didn't get lost. He didn't fall into despair.

     I want to go back to near the beginning for a moment – to the creation story of the Book of Genesis:

Then the Lord God formed a man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being. 

     God brings life from lifelessness. In the Creation story, God breathes the breath of life into lifeless dust – and suddenly there was life where there had been no life before. In the valley full of “dry bones” God tells the prophet to “prophesy” - essentially, once again, to breathe the word of God onto lifeless bones – and suddenly, once again, there was life where there had been no life before. You see, this is the way of God. God is the giver of life; God, in a sense, is life itself. When God's breath – or God's Spirit (because the words are the same in both Greek and Hebrew) - is breathed upon you, abundant life suddenly appears where before life had been dry and stagnant, and glorious hope suddenly appears where before things had seemed dark and hopeless. When the word of God is breathed upon you, the most amazing things can happen:

... as I was prophesying, there was a noise, a rattling sound, and the bones came together, bone to bone. I looked, and tendons and flesh appeared on them and skin covered them, but there was no breath in them. Then He said to me, “Prophesy to the breath; prophesy, son of man, and say to it, ‘This is what the Sovereign Lord says: Come, breath, from the four winds and breathe into these slain, that they may live.’” So I prophesied as He commanded me, and breath entered them; they came to life and stood up on their feet ...

     Whether we're talking about the people of God of 3000 years ago, the church of today or any of our individual lives, sometimes we can seem to be little more than “dry bones,” fragile and ready to crumble apart. But just as much,  whether we're talking about the people of God of 3000 years ago, the church of today or any of our individual lives, the living word of God breathed upon us can re-animate us, and give us a whole new lease on life. So we need to proclaim this life giving word to others – breathe it upon them – and we need to ensure that it's continually breathed upon us, so that on those days when we feel like little more than a collection of “dry bones” new life might enter into us and give us a whole new beginning.

March 30 sermon - A Journey Through ...

The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing. He makes me lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside quiet waters, He refreshes my soul. He guides me along the right paths for His name’s sake. Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely Your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. (Psalm 23:1-6)

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     Well, we're now a little bit more than halfway through the journey. I'm talking, of course, about the journey through Lent. Lent generally begins and ends with a journey – at the beginning, the journey of Jesus into the wilderness to face temptation, and at the end the journey of Jesus through the streets of Jerusalem to the cross at Calvary. In between those two events is our journey through Lent. Life is a journey. Faith is a journey. We're constantly moving from where we were to where we're going; from who we were to who we're becoming. So in that sense, the season of Lent – moving from temptation at the beginning, to death at the end, to glorious resurrection victory immediately after – serves as a template for our entire lives in a way. As with a lot of journeys – our journey through both faith and life is shrouded in mystery and uncertainty. We're never quite sure what we're going to be facing at any given moment. Unexpected twists and turns come up, sometimes we have to make u-turns. Sometimes it feels as if we're lost in the wilderness, not quite sure where it is we want to go; where it is we should be going; where it is that God wants us to go.

     As I thought about the journey motif of Lent, I was drawn to what is possibly the most familiar passage in the Bible – the 23rd Psalm. Considering how familiar it is – and I like the more modern versions of it because hearing words that are a little bit different perhaps jars us into paying more attention than we otherwise might – it's perhaps a little bit strange that we don't really use Psalm 23 much in church. It gets used often at funerals, and it gets used often in private devotions I suspect, but not really all that much in the course of a normal Sunday service. And yet it fits the journey motif perfectly. The 23rd Psalm is usually referred to as “The Shepherd's Psalm” - but it could also be talked about as “The Wanderer's Psalm.” In the midst of Psalm 23, you see, there's a very important reference to a journey that's being taken - “Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for You are with me ...” The verse really refers to three things that can plague and bedevil us as we make our own journeys – darkness, valleys, and even death itself – because as we all know, the more familiar words to the verse are “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.” I want to spend a few minutes thinking about those three images – darkness, valleys and death – and reflect on how they impact us in a modern world that's far removed from the realities that would have been faced by a shepherd in the ancient middle east, and on how we overcome the challenges that they represent to us in our own lives of faith.

     In the 23rd Psalm the author is walking “through the darkest valley.” Darkness is something that makes a lot of people uneasy and uncomfortable. The Bible uses darkness a lot as an analogy for that which is dangerous or that which is hidden and secret – and the very fact that it's hidden and secret (whatever it is) that makes it dangerous. In the 23rd Psalm, we see the author walking through “the darkest valley.” To think back to what I said last week for a moment, here is where we find the importance of believing that our ever present Jesus is the light of the world. He overcomes this darkness that can sometimes envelop us. Have you ever found yourself enveloped in darkness? In a situation that seems hopeless? Well, it's never really that dark. Because there is always light. And the good news that we find even in the 23rd Psalm is that we never get stuck in “the darkest valley.” We walk through it. We overcome the darkness that sometimes seems to consume our lives. Because we have Jesus – the light of the world – illuminating all the dark places that we sometimes find ourselves in.

     In the 23rd Psalm the author is walking “through the darkest valley.” Valleys are interesting things. They can be quite beautiful. I can remember driving through the Appalachian Mountains in West Virginia, and coming to the top of one of the mountains, where there would be a lookout where you could get out of your car and look at the valley below you. And it was always a beautiful sight. But in certain circumstances it would seem to me that valleys could also be quite threatening places, especially if you combine the valley with the darkness. Think about the image for a few moments. In a valley – especially if you suspect that there might be danger – you may well feel a little bit trapped. There may well not be an easy way out of a valley, so you feel very vulnerable to whatever predators there might be within the valley – which, in the context of Psalm 23 – would be an especially difficult problem for a shepherd with a large herd of sheep to protect. Have you ever found yourself in a valley? In a situation from which there seems to be no escape, with everything seeming to close in around you and trap you? Well, it's never really that hopeless. Because there is always a way out. And, once again, the good news that we find even in the 23rd Psalm is that we never get stuck in “the darkest valley.” We walk through it. We overcome the hopelessness that sometimes seems to overtake our lives. Because we have Jesus – the good shepherd – always with us, and always helping us find a way through those most hopeless of situations.

     Finally, to use the more traditional translation which is so beloved to so many people, in the 23rd Psalm the author is walking “through the valley of the shadow of death.” There's that word that so many people fear, probably because we know that it's so inevitable. Even the Bible understands the ominousness of death. Yes – the Bible is full of hope about death; and repeatedly reassures us that death is not the end – but it doesn't paint a rosy picture either. Paul, in 1 Corinthians 15:26, refers to death as “the last enemy to be destroyed.” That's both hopeful and unsettling. Death will “be destroyed,” but it's going to be the “last enemy” to be destroyed – so it's still with us. And we all have to face it. Not just the inevitability of our own deaths, but the reality that those around us whom we love are going to die. We've all faced that, time and time again. When I talk with those who are very elderly, one of the saddest laments I often hear is, “I have no friends left because they've all died before me.” Death does cast a shadow over us, doesn't it. It's always there. We don't think about it very often thank goodness, but deep down we know it's there. Have you ever faced death? Either a serious health issue of your own, or the death of someone you love? We all deal with that one thing that we know is inevitable for each and every one of us that will put an end to our lives, even though we thankfully choose not to dwell on it too much? Well, it's never really that final. Because even death has been and will be defeated. And, once again, the good news that we find even in the 23rdPsalm is that we never get stuck in “the valley of the shadow of death.” We walk through it. We overcome the inevitability that seems to surround death with faith in the fact that death has already been defeated once, and i the promise that death will be defeated finally and forever – and that we will live! Because we have Jesus – Who is the resurrection and the life – Who's been in the realm of death, and who came through it, and Who promises us that we'll come through it just fine as well, as inevitable as it may be.

     “Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for You are with me ...” Do you see the significance of the verse? We might find ourselves in “the darkest valley” or in “the valley of the shadow of death,” but the promise is that we'll “walk through” it. We won't be trapped by it and we won't get lost in it – we'll “walk through” it. Don't let the dark valleys get you down. Just remember that Jesus walks with you, and that Jesus gets you through, to the other side, where dark valleys are gone, and where the light of life remains!

March 23 sermon - Light Without End

Again Jesus spoke to them, saying, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows Me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life.” Then the Pharisees said to Him, “You are testifying on Your own behalf; Your testimony is not valid.” Jesus answered, “Even if I testify on My own behalf, My testimony is valid because I know where I have come from and where I am going, but you do not know where I come from or where I am going. You judge by human standards; I judge no one. Yet even if I do judge, My judgement is valid; for it is not I alone Who judge, but I and the Father Who sent me. In your law it is written that the testimony of two witnesses is valid. I testify on My own behalf, and the Father who sent Me testifies on My behalf.” Then they said to Him, “Where is your Father?” Jesus answered, “You know neither Me nor My Father. If you knew Me, you would know My Father also.” He spoke these words while He was teaching in the treasury of the temple, but no one arrested Him, because His hour had not yet come. (John 8:12-20)

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     I enjoy star-gazing. I'm not a big time astronomer. In fact, I don't even own a telescope. There was a time, though. When I was a kid I had a telescope, and the night sky fascinated me. I looked at the moon and the planets and the stars. Now that I've learned a little more about astronomy over the course of my life, I've come to understand that some of the “stars” I was looking at were actually distant galaxies. The night sky is fascinating. In fact, it was learning about the universe that was at least a part of my coming to faith as a young adult. As mysterious as the universe is in many ways, there's an order and a precision to it that finally convinced me that it couldn't have just come into being with nothing behind it. I came to the conclusion that there must have been a sentient and creative force; and that early stirring eventually led me to God. It's not enough evidence for a lot of people; I understand that. But for me, the very nature of the universe was and is compelling evidence of the existence of God. The universe still fascinates me when I sometimes take a few minutes outside after dark, especially if I've just come home and I'm walking from the garage into the house, and I'm delighted that as I make that walk my daughter likes looking at the stars with me and often points things out to me that I hadn't noticed before. Like the earliest humans, I suppose, I find myself looking at the stars, transfixed by the light coming from them. The universe is vast. Space is incomprehensibly large. I was reading not long ago that astronomers had discovered the most distant galaxy known to us. It's been named Abell2744 Y1 (because astronomers are romantics!) and it's about 13.7 billion light years away from earth. That means that light from this distant galaxy has travelled 13.7 billion years before reaching earth – and yet its light can still be seen after all that time and all that distance. It seems that light never dies. It's always there. We can make the conscious decision not to look at the night sky, or we can allow the artificial lights of the big city to drown out the lights of the night sky, but the light is still there. We just have to open our eyes and be able to see it.

     Astronomers tell us that the light from that distant galaxy is the oldest thing we can possibly see. To look at it is to not only look 13.7 billion light years into space; it's to look 13.7 billion years back in time – to a point, we're told, when the universe was in its infancy; when creation  was – in cosmic terms – perhaps just a fraction of a second old; just moments after the beginning of both time and space. In a way, you might say that looking at that galaxy is a little bit like looking at the earliest work of God, Whose first act of creation according to the account of creation in the Book of Genesis was “let there be light.” Perhaps it was the light of this distant galaxy just recently discovered! As we look at it, we almost see eternity – almost, but not quite. Because the light of that galaxy wasn't the first light that existed.

     “I am the light of the world,” Jesus said. Frankly, Jesus is a light more powerful than even the light of the most distant galaxy that can travel through the vastness of space for 13.7 billion years and still be seen. Light can be dimmed; light can be distorted. Sometimes darkness seems to win out. But light always continues to shine – somehow and in some way. Such is certainly the case with Jesus. “I am the light of the world,” Jesus said, in John's Gospel. Those words are included in a collection of sayings by Jesus called the “I Am” sayings, in which Jesus declares Himself to be many things – living bread, from above, the door, the good shepherd, the true vine, the way, the truth and the life, the true vine, the resurrection and the life. Jesus declared Himself to be all these things – as well as the light of the world. The “I Am” sayings declare the power of Jesus and reveal to us the nature of Jesus. “I Am” is traditionally seen as the name of God, taken from the story in the Book of Exodus when Moses encounters the burning bush, and God speaks from it instructing him to go to the people and speak for God, and Moses asks God's name, because the people will want to know. “I Am That I Am” God replies. “Tell them that 'I Am' has sent you.” “I Am.” Two tiny words say a lot. The very nature of God is life itself; God is existence; to God all things that exist owe their existence. And Jesus claims that name for Himself, making a powerful statement of His one-ness with the divine; His unity with God. And that helps us understand perhaps what Jesus meant when He said “I am the light of the world.”

     In a spiritual sense, what is light? Light is that which reveals God to us. Light is that which gives us knowledge of God and which makes us aware of the presence of God. Jesus did that, which is why one of the names we use for Him is “Emmanuel – God With Us.” In Jesus, we see God; in the life of Jesus we see a perfect human life lived and perfectly attuned to God's will. The life of Jesus is a light that reveals to us Who God is and what God wants us to be. Without that light, we would find ourselves consumed by darkness, lost and unable to find our way. But that light is there to nourish our spirits and keep us close to God, because Jesus is the light of the world. But Jesus lived 2000 years ago. Is Jesus still with us? Is Jesus still the light of the world? Let's be honest – the world can seem to be a dark place at times. And yet, still, that light shines.

     If we take a detour for a moment into the other Gospels, we find another “I Am” statement by Jesus. Gathered with His disciples, Who have already seen Him do great and even miraculous things, Jesus finally looks at them and challenges them with the words, “Who do people say that I am?” “I Am.” There's those two little words again. The disciples hemmed and hawed a bit, as if they knew where Jesus was going with the question. He was challenging them to a faith deeper than they had ever thought possible. Perhaps the light that was right in front of them had been obscured by the interminable debates and discussions of those who had encountered Jesus but didn't know what to make of Him. They were reluctant to make the commitment Jesus asked for. Then, Jesus challenged them directly. “What about you? Who do you say I am?” “I Am.” There's those two little words again. And, finally, Peter chose to open His eyes to the light right in front of Him and boldly said, “You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God.” Peter finally understood the almost impossibly intimate relationship between the Father and the Son; between God and Jesus. Perhaps here was where the movement that would become the church was truly born. The first real confession of faith about Jesus. Because light finally shone through to Peter.

     But, some would say, that was then; this is now. Jesus is dead. Jesus is gone. Some would say even that Jesus never existed. Perhaps the light that's right in front of us has been obscured by the interminable debates and discussions of those who have encountered Jesus but don't know what to make of Him. Well, my faith guides me. Do I still see light shining? The light of Christ? The light of God? Is Jesus as much the light of the world today as He was 2000 years ago. I say yes! I see lives changed by Jesus; I see people transformed by Jesus. I see the poor being cared for and the outcast being made insiders. At least I see it at the best of times. As with all light, the light of Jesus can be obscured by the false gods among us – and there are many. Money that tells us that it's all about me; power that tells me I'm allowed to use people; sex that tells me that whatever feels good must be good; the entertainment industry that tells me that if I'm not beautiful I'm worthless, fear that too easily leads to hatred. These things (and so many more) that are so prevalent in our society obscure the light of Jesus; they blind some people to the light of Jesus – but it doesn't stop the light of Jesus from shining. Hebrews 13:8 tells us that “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever.” That's another way of saying that Jesus Christ is “I Am.” That Jesus is Himself the eternal one. When Jesus said “I am the light of the world,” He didn't just mean for that moment in time 2000 years ago. That's a statement of His eternal nature. That light doesn't stop shining. We may choose not to see it, or we may let it be dimmed by all the things that can so easily dazzle us, but just as the light from a galaxy 13.7 billion light years away can still be seen, so is the eternal light of Jesus still present with us. After all, Jesus said “I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

     Remember that Jesus said not only “I am the light of the world.” He also said to His disciples (including us) “you are the light of the world.” I've read that vision is a strange thing. That we don't really “see” any of the things we think we see – what we see is the light being reflected off them. The light of Jesus is still shining for all the world to see today – but it's being reflected off we who claim to be His disciples. We keep the light of Jesus shining. And the light of Jesus is still seen when we see acts of compassion extended to those whom society deems unworthy of compassion. We still see the light of Jesus shining when we see love offered in situations where hate would be easier. We still see the light of Jesus shining whenever judgement is set aside and we see the grace of God being extended always outward to the other. It was always others that Jesus was concerned with – the feeding of the poor, the empowerment of the marginalized, the welcoming of the outcast, a talk with a Samaritan woman. In all these ways, Jesus taught us how to be His body and how to shine with His light and how to ensure that His light would remain the light of the world. And that light of the world is in fact there for all to see, even though there are so many things around us that threaten to drown it out.

     Jesus is the light of the world – yesterday, today and forever. For now, His light shines through us. May we, as His church and as His body, shine brightly day after day.

Light Without End

March 9 sermon - The Problem Of Temptation

The Lord God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to work it and take care of it. And the Lord God commanded the man, “You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat from it you will certainly die.”  ... Now the serpent was more crafty than any of the wild animals the Lord God had made. He said to the woman, “Did God really say, ‘You must not eat from any tree in the garden’?” The woman said to the serpent, “We may eat fruit from the trees in the garden, but God did say, ‘You must not eat fruit from the tree that is in the middle of the garden, and you must not touch it, or you will die.’” “You will not certainly die,” the serpent said to the woman. “For God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it. Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves. (Genesis 2:15-17, 3:1-7)

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     Have you ever found yourself facing a difficult situation and the first thing that pops into your head is “how did I get myself into this?” It happens all the time doesn't it. You think everything's OK; you think you're doing all the right things. Then – all of a sudden things aren't working out so well, and you have a giant mess of some sort to try to get out of! It's just a part of being human I suppose. In spite of our best efforts, sometimes things just don't go as well as we had hoped and planned. Even with the best of intentions, things can just end up in a mess. It's human nature. We have the amazing capacity to create messes where no mess existed before! A little bit of temptation to take a step off the right path and – bang! There's trouble galore, and we're in a mess, and desperate for a way to get out of it!

     In a way, “the mess” is what Lent is all about. How did we get from where we were to where we are. Perhaps more importantly, how do we get from where we are to where we want to be? One of the themes of the Season of Lent is often temptation. A traditional Gospel reading for the first Sunday of Lent is the story of Jesus – after His baptism - being driven into the wilderness to be tempted by Satan; tempted to demonstrate a lack of faith in God and in God's word. Many people invite temptation during Lent. The whole concept of “giving something up” for Lent is really in a way about inviting temptation into our lives. We give up something that's meaningful to us, but because it's meaningful it's usually present, and it tempts us to give up on the commitment we've made. Temptation has its place I suppose. Actually, a long time ago, Augustine argued that temptations are necessary for spiritual progress.

     I personally hope that Augustine was right, and that temptations are necessary, because from time to time they come to every one of us. What is a temptation? In simple terms, it's when we're presented with something that we want but we know we shouldn't have; or it's when we're given the opportunity to do something that we know we shouldn't do. That's pretty common – and probably all of us can think of times in our lives when we've done the thing we shouldn't have done. But a temptation, in a way, is more than that. A temptation is a trick; it's a deception or  a lie. Temptations hide the truth from us and instead they start to make us think that a lie is the truth. A temptation often seems to offer us something good or pleasant but in usually ends up enticing us into acting selfishly, seeking to satisfy our own desires and not being concerned with the consequences of our actions – either to ourselves or to others. “You wanna buy this? Put it on the credit card. You don't even have to pay right now!” But eventually the bill comes due; eventually the consequences of our actions hit home. Temptations lure us into doing or saying or thinking something that does not reflect who we really are as sons and daughters of God. A temptation tries to convince us with laughter and smiles but it's suddenly not there when it's time for us to help us pick up the pieces and deal with the guilt afterwards. A temptation lures us away from us the road that leads us to peace and joy and happiness and eternity and instead it makes us think there's a shortcut - a quick and easy way to find what is really good and worthwhile in life. So a temptation is sneaky. It  offers us what looks like a quick-fix, but in reality the quick fix can become a quick disaster. “I'm just gonna do it once. No one will ever know.” But if I can put it this way, our sins have a way of catching up with us, don't they. And deep down we know that. We know that somewhere along the way we're going to get caught, but we march boldly forward. So a temptation is also irrational and it has no sense. A temptation hopes that we'll stop using our brains because if we do use our brains when temptation comes we will notice pretty easily how stupid following the temptation would be. Is there anything more deceptive and sneaky and two-faced than temptations? Probably not.

     Temptation forces us to make a choice. Is it going to be the way of God for us – or is it going to be our way?That's always the temptation. That's always the question. From the beginning of human existence, that's always been the question. Do we live for God or do we live for ourselves? Do we live for others or do we live for ourselves? Do we live with a spirit of generosity or do we live with a spirit of selfishness? That's always been the question. Those who authored the Bible knew that had always been the question. That's why we have the temptation story of Genesis. Some call it the story of the fall; but I think of it more as a story about the dangers of succumbing to temptation. Same thing, perhaps, but maybe I look at it a bit more positively than most people.

     The whole creation story of Genesis is essentially a series of life lessons – teaching us about the power and nature of God, and warning us about the dangers involved in giving in to temptation (and this, encouraging us to stay close to God.) Next to the story of the temptation of Jesus in the Gospels perhaps, the temptation of Eve in Genesis 3 is probably the most familiar temptation story in the entire Bible. We often think of the story as being about either sin or death. There's some truth to both of those ideas. The refusal to follow God and the choice to give in to temptation when the temptation contradicts God is sin, and it is true that God said that the consequences for the sin would be death. But, really, when you pull the layers away and get to the heart of the story – it's about shame.

     Eve starts out the story with no shame. In fact, she has so little shame that she innocently takes it upon herself to defend God against the serpent's lies. “Did God tell you that you couldn't eat from any tree in the garden?” the serpent asked. “Oh no. God didn't say that – it's only the one tree we can't eat from.” She boldly stands up for God and defends God against the one who was distorting God's word. But innocence can be a problem too – because innocents can be deceived and tricked and sucked in. Which is what the serpent did to Eve. And the end result was that by the end of the story, Eve had gone from being an innocent defender of God to hiding herself along with Adam from God in shame, making clothes out of fig leaves – to “cover up” as it were. And isn't that what temptation so often leads to? We get tempted, we give in, we're ashamed and then we have to construct an entire alternative reality to try to get out of it – we try to cover it up. Remember Bill Clinton? “I did not have sexual relations with that woman, Miss Lewinski.” Just as Eve and Adam tried to hide and cover up.

     That's the end result of succumbing to temptation. I guess we all do it from time to time. We all probably have moments of saying, “what in the world did I do and why and how do I avoid the consequences of it?” That's shame, and shame leads to fear, and fear leads to covering up, and nothing much good comes from it. But if we had read on in the story we would have discovered that there is good news. The good news isn't that we avoid the consequences of our actions. There are consequences for giving in to temptation. But the good news is that in the midst of it all God is always there, and God already knows. It's fascinating that as the story continues on, God doesn't take away the consequences, but God does offer help. God even helps Adam and Eve “cover up” in a way by making clothes for them at the end of Chapter 3. The point of that is that God accepts us as we are – even if we're shameful and afraid – and God somehow gets us back on the right path.

     Do you have temptations in your life? Things you want but you know you shouldn't have? Things you want to do but you know you shouldn't do? Or maybe you've given in to the temptations and done the thing you shouldn't do. The point is that God's there to help in the midst of it, setting us all back on the path. To me, that's pretty good news, indeed!