Risen?

Do not doubt; believe.

In the church calendar, we are a week removed from Easter. In our story from John, though, it is still Easter day. It was just that morning when Mary Magdalene found the tomb empty and tipped off the disciples. John and Peter sprinted to the garden to see for themselves. Once they leave, Jesus greets Mary by name. She then runs and tells the disciples the unbelievable word of resurrection.

We have no record of how the disciples received this news. What we do know is that they are still locked away, fearing what their fate might be. After all, the powers that be saw fit to execute Jesus. What might they do to his followers?

And that’s when Jesus just materializes. “Peace be with you.” They see his hands and side. They rejoice. And Jesus disappears into thin air.

Poor Thomas – he must’ve been out running errands or something, because he misses the whole thing. The disciples try to share with him what they just experienced. Thomas responds, “If I’m going to believe this nonsense, I need to see it for myself.”

And this is how Thomas the Twin came to be known as Doubting Thomas.

I don’t know about you, but this strikes me as unfair. So far, everyone who has encountered this news of resurrection has doubted. Mary was convinced that grave robbers were at work – that is, until she sees him face to face. John and Peter, we are told, believed but did not understand, which I take to mean that they had some kind of faith experience that took a while for their mental processes to catch up with. The rest of the disciples are hiding, even though Mary told them she met the risen Jesus. When he appears to them, he shows them his hands and his side.

Thomas, it seems to me, is more the victim of bad timing than doubt. He is not asking for any more proof of resurrection than anybody else has had the opportunity to experience. And once he sees, he believes, just like everyone else. And yet, we still know him as Doubting Thomas.

Do not doubt; believe.

How many of us are like Thomas? We want to believe in this outrageous thing called resurrection, and all we are looking for is a little proof. Is that so much to ask? Unless we see his hands and his side, we might not believe, either.

I am enough of a product of the 21^st century that I am naturally skeptical of anyone who tells me that have met Jesus. At the same time, I have had enough encounters with people’s faith experiences that I know it can happen.

I was fresh out of my seminary book-learnin’ experience when I worked as a hospital chaplain in Chicago. On my rounds, I met a young woman who had gotten a dangerous infection when recovering from surgery. Knowing that she was possibly near death, she had a late night vision of Jesus, standing at the foot of her bed. And that was all she needed to know that no matter what happened, he was suffering right there with her. And I knew, no matter what my critical thinking might say to the contrary, that she was telling the truth.

Do not doubt; believe.

Is this the message we are supposed to get from this lesson, that doubting is wrong and believing is good? Sure – somewhat. That said, I think there’s something much deeper going on here. And the last few verses we read today shed some light on that. You see, the stories about Jesus that are shared are not just for the select few in that initial first or second century audience. They are meant to shore up the faith of those to come many, many years later. That includes us.

So when Jesus confronts Thomas, he already knows the pattern. Even those closest to him have trouble believing until they see. And so Jesus adds this little tweak at the end: “Do you believe because you see me? Happy are those who do not see and still believe.” (I think he’s talking about us!)

You see, here’s what happens to Doubting Thomas. According to tradition, Thomas headed east and ended up bringing the gospel to India. The members of the church he founded there are often referred to as “St. Thomas Christians”. They were part of the larger Eastern Orthodox Church in the early centuries, but by the 1300s, they were essentially cut off and isolated. In the 1500s, European nations began expanding their colonial reach. When they arrived in India, they were stunned to find these dark-skinned non-Europeans worshiping Jesus.

In short, this amazing legacy is what remains of Thomas’ work. Things like this don’t happen if doubt still has a stranglehold. At some point, Doubting Thomas became Believing Thomas.

Do not doubt; believe.

We tend see doubt and faith as opposites. Either you doubt, or you believe. But I’m not sure that’s a helpful approach. What would it look like if we embraced doubt as a way to serve faith?

Let’s take this ridiculous example of the cup and the cardboard. Why does it work?

Maybe I gamed the system. There’s something weird about the cup, or the cardboard has some kind of adhesive on it. We know when we see magic that there’s something else going on, something that has deceived us, if only we knew.

In this case, it’s a matter of science. I am no scientist, but as I understand it, because there is no air in the cup but just water, the water pressure pushing down on the cardboard is less than the air pressure pushing up, and that’s what keeps it in place. In other words, it’s not a trick. We just needed more information in order to understand why this works.

That, I believe, is the kind of approach we should take to faith. I don’t think it’s wrong to question, or test, or prove (a word which means “test”, by the way). In fact, I think it’s a healthy, even faithful thing to do. After all, as the saying goes, Jesus came to take away our sins, not our brains. At the same time, I think it’s important to keep the goal in mind. And that goal is faith.

Think about the cup. The purpose of asking questions is not to disprove that this weird thing happened. It did. We saw it. Instead, it’s to understand how it happened. And I think that taking this kind of approach to faith in Christ Jesus might transform both us and the church in amazing ways!

We don’t understand? That’s great! Then let’s ask! Let’s search! Let’s dig and explore! All the while, let’s trust the outcome, knowing that the purpose is not to disprove, but to improve. You see, the world we once knew doesn’t exist anymore. There was a time when a church could open its doors and expect people to show up on a Sunday morning. But that time is past. So we can’t just throw around our insider language and expect people to understand it.

“Greet the session in the narthex after the benediction.”

“Greet the who in the what now after the huh?”

We have to be translators of the gospel. And in order to do so, we have to ask those questions: of each other, of ourselves, yes, even of God! And friends, if I know Oglethorpe Presbyterian, then I think we are well-suited for this kind of work. We have always been a place that welcomes questions and examination. It’s no accident that we were birthed on a university campus 65 years ago. We have always been a community that lives with heart and head intimately connected.

Do you know how unusual that kind of church is, where doubting and questioning are par for the course? And do you know what I think? I think that means that we have an opportunity to offer the world a very different image of what church can be, a community where intellectual curiosity and compassionate service come together in a potent mix of smart faith.

We do not need to fear doubt. In fact, if faith is really as powerful as it is supposed to be, if God is really God, then they can handle doubt. They can field our questions. They can absorb our confusion, our troubles, our anger.

Friends, I trust that doubt can have a transformative purpose, that it can be a powerful means to serve our faith, to strengthen our belief, and to move us closer to understanding.

Risen?

Risen indeed!

Amen.

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Prayer: Gratitude

Gratitude for what is.
Gratitude for what was.
Gratitude for what will be.

Our lesson this morning from John’s gospel tells the story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead. It is a story about prayer. It is a story that reminds us that prayer comes in many shapes and sizes, many forms and practices. And what lies at the heart of it all, regardless of what it might look like, is our theme for the day: gratitude.

We have been talking a lot about prayer this year. And, I hope, we have been praying a lot, too. I have been challenging each of you to take on a daily practice of prayer. And as you have heard from me and from others in our community, more than anything else, I hope you have seen that prayer is a very individual practice. What works for me might not work for you. Maybe it’s sitting still that calms you enough to enter into prayerfulness. Or perhaps it’s being on the move that helps you keep pace with God’s activity in the world.

Have you figured out what works for you? Are you at least on your way? Maybe you don’t have it all pinned down, but have you at least gained some insight into what kinds of prayer might be best for you. How many of you feel like you are at least pointed in the right direction? Whether you feel like you can say yes or no to that, today is all about encouraging you to keep at it.

Gratitude takes many forms. So let’s start with gratitude for what is. In many ways, this is the one that ought to be clearest. We see what we have, the blessings around us, and we are grateful. We recognize how blessed we are, and we give thanks to God, the giver of every good and perfect gift.

That seems to be what’s at work behind our lesson from John today. Mary and Martha call out to Jesus not only because they know what Jesus is capable of, but because they don’t want to lose what they have – namely, their brother, Lazarus. They may not be able to name it in that moment, but for them, there is gratitude for what is in this sibling relationship – so much so that they want to hold onto it.

That gratitude is also there in the disciples’ decision to go to visit Lazarus with Jesus. Word reaches them about Lazarus when they are across the Jordan River. Bethany is just outside Jerusalem. And knowing what they know about Jerusalem, about Jesus’ escalating conflict with the powers that be based in that city, they have a sense that going to Bethany means going toward certain death. And yet, they go. Led by Thomas, the one who later doubts, they go.

Again, I’m not sure the disciples would name that decision as one of gratitude, but they know and appreciate what they have in being with Jesus. They have seen his power. They have learned from his wisdom. They don’t want to lose that, but they know that traveling with him to the bitter end might mean having access to it just a little bit longer.

There’s a funny thing about this kind of gratitude, though – the gratitude for the present, the most tangible form of gratitude. It’s the one we are most likely to take for granted. There is something about us that seems to be uncomfortable with comfort. The moments where we should be most content are usually the ones in which we are most likely to be discontent. We are more likely to desire what we don’t have than what we do.

My encouragement to you is to spend some time taking stock of those things for which you ought to be grateful. Don’t get drawn in by jealousy, by looking at what someone else has and getting suckered into desire for what they have and you don’t. There are blessings right beneath our nose that we often miss because we won’t sit still long enough to notice them.

Gratitude for what is; gratitude for what was.

When Elizabeth and I were living in Louisville, one of the strongest draws back to Atlanta for us was family. We knew we were about to start our own, and we wanted our little family to be connected with that larger network here in Atlanta: cousins, aunts and uncles, grandparents, great-grandparents.

My grandmother was ninety-five years old when we moved back. She lived just down the street from here. And every Friday, we would go and have lunch with her. She lived to be ninety-nine. I cherished her, and there are many dear memories that will live on. In some ways, it feels foolish to weep over a life that lasted just shy of a century. And yet, I did; because we miss what we love.

Every loss contains at least an element of sadness. I realize that for some Christians, that idea comes close to blasphemy. The thinking goes that we are a people of hope, trusting in the promise of life beyond life. Therefore, shouldn’t death be an occasion for rejoicing? My response is simply this: Jesus wept. If it’s good enough for Jesus, it ought to be good enough for us.

Jesus not only knows this promise of eternal life more than any of us, he inhabits it; embodies it. He tells the disciples that the death of Lazarus is an opportunity to show the power of God. And yet, when he sees the mourners crying, he is moved. When he makes his way to the tomb of his friend Lazarus, he weeps. He doesn’t, for a moment, doubt God’s power in what is about to happen. And yet, he grieves. I don’t think this is just compassion – though I’m sure compassion is part of what moves him so deeply. Jesus is, quite simply, sad. When the reality of Lazarus’ death hits him in the face, he cries.

And what lies just beneath the surface of sadness, I believe, is gratitude. If we lose something or someone we don’t particularly care about, then we don’t tend to shed any tears. But when we cherish someone or something we lose, we are heartbroken. That heartbreak is shaped by many things: sadness for what will never be, emptiness for what is lost. And yet, right there in the midst, I believe, is gratitude. We may not be able to see it right away, but it is there, and it will come.

Gratitude for what is; gratitude for what was; gratitude for what will be.

This is the gratitude of hope, the gratitude of possibilities. It is an intangible gratitude, because it is the gratitude of the unknown. It’s the gratitude of a stone rolled away, of a dead man walking out of a tomb, of a community surrounding him and finishing the work of resurrection.

And that’s where today’s conversation, hopefully, moves us forward in the months to come. While we will not be talking about prayer as much as we have been, we will continue to grow as a praying congregation. My vision is that every single one of us is praying daily. Some of you are already there. Some of you are on your way. Some of you probably think I’m way off base here. All I can tell you is that my own life is better, and markedly so, because of daily prayer. How can I not want that for each you?

You see, the more we are in prayer, the more we are in tune with God. And the more we are in tune with God, the more we know the character of Jesus that is at the heart of God. If what will be is in God’s hands, then hope is the surest thing of all, because hope is at the heart of God. What will be may not look like what we expect. And yet, what will be is as outrageous as a dead man living, because what will be belongs to God.

Today, I want you to do is to make a commitment to what your prayer life will look like from here. It could be a word, a phrase, a doodle, a drawing, whatever it is that makes the most sense to you.

For me, the word is consistency. The more I practice prayer, the more consistent I am with my daily habit; and yet, I still feel like I am too easily thrown off track. So my commitment from this day forward is consistency.

Maybe that’s true for you; or maybe it’s about getting started – really giving this prayer thing a try. Or perhaps it’s about figuring out what it is that works for you. Are you distracted too easily? Do you need the focus of a candle, a song, a Biblical text as your centering mantra? Or is it that you want to be more mindful of how it is that you pray? Maybe it’s about spending that daily time journaling, writing or drawing your way with God. I don’t know what it is that calls to you, challenges you, comforts you. Prayer is as individual as you are.

Maybe it’s the commitment of accountability that you’re looking for. If so, then I would suggest a prayer partner.

A prayer partner can be someone you pray with regularly, or someone who prays for you regularly, or someone who checks on your prayer life regularly, or any combination of these.

My hope is that gratitude will permeate all of your prayers: gratitude for what is; gratitude for what was; gratitude for what will be.

Amen.

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An Easter People: Part 1

Sometimes we need to go back to the beginning.

Our lesson from John this morning comes at the very end of the gospel. Because of this, we tend to see it in the light of “the end” rather than “the beginning”. Thomas is there, the one who doubted and then lost that doubt when he touched Christ’s wounds. Peter is there, not only taking part in the grilled fish meal, but also getting grilled himself. After all, this follows his three-fold denial; it’s not surprising in the least that Jesus would ask him three times, “Do you love me?”

Seen this way, the story appears to be one of redemption. Thomas is given yet another chance to see and experience Jesus in the flesh. Peter, though momentarily humiliated by Jesus’ questions, ends up being elevated once again as shepherd of the flock and tender of the sheep. He is forced to face his embarrassing failings; but soon experiences the outrageous grace and mercy of the one he abandoned. We can only imagine what would happen had Judas decided to hang around…

In the end, though, I think there’s something much more going on here, a reminder that sometimes we need to go back to the beginning.

Nathanael is there. He doesn’t get to make many appearances in John’s gospel; primarily here, and at the beginning. In chapter one, Nathanael appears as Philip’s friend. And once told about Jesus, his reply is the dismissive, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” He is convinced, though, once he goes and sees.

The other gospels recount the call of James and John, the sons of Zebedee, who are told to leave their nets, bring their fishing prowess with them, and follow Jesus. And here they are again, back to the beginning, returning to the sea to ply their trade.

And then there’s Simon Peter. He was born Simon; but Jesus called him Peter, a new name to remind him of the solid foundation of faith that Jesus saw within him. And in John’s gospel, the renaming happens where? In the very beginning. But notice what happens in our lesson from today. The narrator calls him Simon Peter throughout. But when Jesus addresses him, he is “Simon, son of John.” Part of this, I’m sure, is to underscore how Simon’s faith faltered in the face of Jesus’ suffering and his own fears. Once again, Peter is reminded of his failings…before Jesus again embraces him and sends him off to lead in his absence. I think this name play is also a hint from Jesus that, in order to move forward, sometimes we need to go back to the beginning.

Our lives in faith should reflect this, too, going back to the beginning. We schedule our lives so that, one day a week, we worship and re-center our lives around the lessons of Scripture and their meaning in our lives. We come to this table again and again to be fed and sated, and to be reminded of what that feeding costs. And we also return to this font, as we do again today. And as we do, we will baptize two children, yes, but we also mark, remember, and even anticipate the moment each of us entered the family of faith, passing through the waters and into promise.

Sometimes we need to go back to the beginning.

I think that’s part of what we see in the gospel lesson today. The disciples are terrified. When Jesus is crucified, they head back to that Upper Room, and lock the doors. And they keep them locked. For Jesus to visit them after the resurrection, he has to appear – twice – with the locked doors trying to keep him out. And now, even having experienced the resurrected Christ, they have gone back home, to the Galilee. It could be that they’re doing it because Jesus modeled it; after all, Jesus got away from the crowds every now and then to retreat and pray. That could be what they are doing. On the other hand, it could be that, yet again, they have retreated in fear, going back to what they know how to do best. It seems that they have gone back to the beginning.

What does that mean for us? What does it mean for us to go back to the beginning? I may be wrong, but I can’t help but see that this is what we are in the midst of doing with our capital campaign. In some ways, we have hit reset on our building: new roof, new HVAC up and running, new doors on the way, and more projects to come.

I also think there is wisdom in the fact that our campaign intentionally included elements beyond bricks and mortar. The Church Assessment Tool is just the first step – and here, I’m going to make a shameless plug: if you haven’t filled out the survey yet, please do it today. It’s an important moment for us, as we move out of the momentum of our campaign and look toward what comes next: what is it? What is it that God is calling us to do, as part of this family of faith? As we sift through the results of your input, I trust that the Spirit will speak clearly of what is to come.

In other words, in order to move forward, we need to take this moment to go back to the beginning, to the basics – to touch base, to assess, to pray, and to trust.

What about you? Where is your beginning? What is your touchstone, your place, your experience, your prayer that grounds you so that you can move forward? Here’s the amazing thing about it: even if we, like the disciples head back to that place out of fear, the risen Christ meets us there. We can’t even lock him out, or set sail to escape his presence. He is there, in the midst of us. He is there, patiently waiting on the shore. He is there, ready to confront us, rename us, and call us forward into newness of life! Will we be ready? Even if we’re not, will we go anyway?

Amen.

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