Practical, Holy, Middle Road of Grace

John 21:19-30

After these things, Jesus showed himself again to the disciples by the Sea of Tiberias. This is how he showed himself to them. Gathered there were Simon Peter, Thomas who was also called the Twin, Nathaniel of Cana in Galilee, the Sons of Zebedee and two others of his disciples. Simon Peter said to them, “I am going fishing.” They said to him, “We will go with you.” And they went and got into the boat, but that night they caught nothing.

Just after daybreak, Jesus came and stood on the shore, but the disciples did not know that it was Jesus. He said to them, “My children, you haven’t any fish, have you?” They said to him, “No.” He said to them, “Cast your net on the right side of the boat and you will find some.” So they cast it and they were not able to haul in the net because it was full of so many fish. The disciple whom Jesus loved said to Simon Peter, “It is the Lord!” When Simon Peter heard that it was Jesus, he put on some clothes for he was naked, and jumped into the sea. The others went in the boat, bringing with them the net full of fish, for they were not far from the land; only about a hundred yards off.

When they had come ashore, they saw a charcoal fire with fish on it, and bread. Jesus said to them, “Bring with you some of the fish you just caught.” So Simon Peter went aboard and hauled the net ashore, full of large fish, one hundred fifty-three of them. But even though there were so many fish, the net was not torn. Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.”

Now, none of them dared to ask him, “Who are you?” because they new that it was Jesus. He came and took the bread and gave it to them and he did the same thing with the fish. This was the third time he had appeared to them since he had been raised from the dead.

After they had eaten breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Peter said to him, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my lambs.” A second time, Jesus said to him, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Peter said to him, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Tend my sheep.” A third time, Jesus said to him, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Peter, upset that he had asked him a third time, “Do you love me?,” said to him, “Lord, you know everything. You know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep. When you were a child, you used to fasten your own belt and go wherever you chose to go. But when you grow old you will stretch out your arms and others will fasten a belt around you and lead you to places that you may not choose to go.” (He said this in order to indicate the kind of death by which he would glorify God.) And when he had said this, he said to him, “Follow me.”

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That’s a lot of Gospel for today, considering the small portion at the end of it all that I want to look at.  I don’t want to talk about the fishing or the breakfast or the net that didn’t tear or why in the world Peter fishes naked.  I just want to look at that last little bit where Jesus talks about Simon Peter’s youth, his old age, and then invites him, simply, to “Follow me.”

I got an invitation, a week or so ago, to attend my college roommate’s daughter’s high school graduation. … I wish you were as surprised by that as I was. People, this means I have a friend who has a daughter that’s graduating from high school in just a few weeks. This means his daughter is an adult. This means my friend is old enough to be the Father of an adult. This means – I think – that I’m old enough to be the Father of an adult. Theoretically.

My friend’s birthday was a couple days after the invitation came and we were texting back and forth about the surprise of it all – about how old he is; about what our kids are up to; and I wondered about whether I would/could/should try to make it over to Ohio, for the graduation party.

It may seem strange to you – and a stretch – but I thought about that invitation when I read about the one from Jesus to Peter at the end of this long Gospel story. I connected the two because of the way Jesus compares Peter’s younger days to the old age he knows is coming.

See, this friend of mine who’s old enough to be throwing a graduation party for his daughter is a fraternity brother of mine, and there was a time when one of us would call about a party and there was no wishful thinking or debate, even, about “would,” or “could,” or “should” we make it to that party. The answer was always “yes,” and “when,” and “where” or “I’ll be right over.” Just like Jesus told Simon Peter: when we were young we fastened our own belts, we made our own plans, we did our own thing; and we did it all when and how and where and if we wanted to – or not.

Nowadays, of course, there are spouses to consult, and calendars to check, and children to consider, and careers to manage. And all of that is nothing, really, to the way it will be one day, for so many of us, I know. Jesus goes on to point to a different future for Peter, too, when he predicts the way he’ll die – with his arms outstretched, being led around by people and taken to places he won’t choose for himself.

We won’t all die martyrs, led around in the way Jesus warns Peter about, but if you’ve ever cared for an aging parent, or tended to a sick loved-one, visited a nursing home, even, or if that kind of future isn’t too far off or too hard to imagine for you, you know what it means to be at the mercy of others – whether you like it or want it or need it or not.

So after Jesus imagines both of these extremes for Peter – the freedom of his youth, on one hand, and the hardship of his later years, on the other – I wonder if he isn’t suggesting a holy, middle road of grace, somewhere in between the two, when he says then, simply, “Follow me.” It seems Jesus is inviting Peter – and the rest of us, whether we’re 1 or 100 – to a holy road, somewhere in the meantime; somewhere between our own way and our own wishes at one extreme, and the way and the wishes of the world around us, at the other.

And it seems to me, that middle road of grace looks something like the life of faith and the way of discipleship we’re all trying to follow as Christian people on the planet.

Between what used to be and what is to come – in the meantime – “Follow me,” Jesus says.  In the meantime, find the middle way of God’s love and “feed my lambs.”  In the meantime, don’t rely fully on your own understanding…don’t follow every whim and every way that feels good to you…don’t just do your own thing, especially if it’s done at the expense of someone else.  In the meantime, feed my lambs – follow me.  In the mean time, tend my sheep – follow my way.  In the meantime, feed my sheep – follow my will …and your life will be blessed and better because of it.

This middle road of discipleship is one of those ways, for me, where God’s call for us is as holy as it is practical. And this middle road is one of the ways this life of discipleship can be as comforting as it is challenging. This middle road, in the meantime, calls us to do some amazing things by the world’s estimation – like love one another, like forgive our enemies, like turn the other cheek; like choose humility over pride; like choose grace instead of judgment; like choose peace instead of war; generosity instead of greed, forgiveness instead of grudges, and more.

And there are some strikingly practical ways to go about this – practical ways to follow Jesus, I mean – practical ways to feed his lambs, to tend his sheep and whatnot. We talk about them as “Marks of Discipleship” around here when we talk about “GROWing in the Word,” “SHARING our money,” “TELLing others the good news,” “PRAYing daily,” “WORSHIPing regularly,” and “GIVING of our time and abilities.” And these marks of discipleship – each of these ways of following Jesus – are as practical as they are holy.

I don’t want to debrief each of them now, but I do want to tell you what I mean about this practical… holy… “in the meantime” sort of stuff with a few examples.

In my younger days, giving financially was never a priority – and seemed an impossibility, really. My money was my money and I did what I wanted, when I wanted, and how I wanted with every penny of it. And, to be honest, it was rarely faithful, hardly wise, and never did a thing for anyone else but me.

But I’ve learned over the years – ever since I’ve seen it work in my own life and around here – that the practice of tithing (giving 10% or more of your income away for the work of the Church in the world) is as practical as it is holy. It’s a discipline. It’s a practice. It’s following God’s way. And when we do it…if we do it…not only do we “feed some sheep” as we go, we also gain a holy perspective about how much we really need, how much we actually have, and about how God blesses us with every bit of whatever that is – not just for us, but for the world around us, too.

And, like I said, giving money is just one of the many ways we try to follow Jesus, around here.

If we pray daily we’ll eventually stop praying for our own concerns and our own needs. We’ll begin to pray for others and we’ll learn to listen to God’s power and presence in our lives and be informed and encouraged by that day in and day out.  (Even the call to prayer is as practical as it is holy.)

If we use our God-given abilities – our musical gifts, our artistic craftiness, our knack for teaching children, our skills with woodworking or tools, our love for the written word, our penchant for a hard day’s work, whatever – for the sake of the kingdom, we become more of who God created us to be and the world is blessed, and fed, and changed because of it.  (Again, this following Jesus stuff is practical and it’s holy, when we get it right.)

My point is, when it comes to following Jesus, to living life as disciples, we can act like children (or fraternity brothers, for that matter!) – doing what we want, when we want, thinking only of ourselves, acting only for our own benefit and blessing.  And we can do all of that until it’s too late, until the time comes when we can’t do anything anymore – for ourselves or for anybody else. But Jesus invites us today, just like he did Peter, in the wake of Easter’s resurrection, to follow a better way; a different way; a holier way; a practical way, too – right here and right now – that benefits us and that blesses the world, all at the same time.

And all of this following – the way, for followers of the crucified, resurrected and living Jesus – is meant to be a way we choose – not because we have to, but because we get to – to be accountable to the God of our creation; to be beholden to the maker of heaven and earth.

It’s like choosing to be accountable to someone you love – a good friend, a husband, a wife, a child…it’s not always easy; it’s not always fun; sometimes it requires more than you feel like you have to give; it takes work; it requires sacrifice; it demands selflessness; it can change you from the inside out. But once you choose that kind of accountability – or once it chooses you – your life, your way, will never be the same.

And all of this is something like what the good news of Easter means to do for us.  When Jesus started showing up for those disciples after his death and resurrection (behind locked doors, like he did last week, and on beaches for breakfast, like he does this morning) he was reminding them – revealing to them and to the world – that God had chosen to do this amazing thing: to love and to redeem and to save the whole lot of us from the beginning of our lives, until the end, and even throughout eternity. 

And God’s great hope is that, in the meantime, because of God’s choice to love us, we might choose to love God back – to travel this middle road of grace and faith and discipleship – to be blessed by the journey, and to bless the world in return.

Amen

Thomas, the Essential Outsider

John 20:19-31 (NRSV)

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

A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you." Then he said to Thomas, "Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe." Thomas answered him, "My Lord and my God!" Jesus said to him, "Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe." Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.

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When is the last time that you felt left out? It’s a common feeling in childhood; though many of us probably don’t have to reach that far back into our memories before a recent experience of being excluded from a group comes bubbling to the surface. These memories of exclusion don’t come alone; rather, they are accompanied with real and raw emotions. No one likes to feel left out. Since we all know how much it hurts, you’d think we would all do a better job of making sure we don’t exclude others.

This is what I noticed about Thomas this year. We hear about the story of the disciple Thomas on the first Sunday after Easter every year and this was the first time I paid attention to Thomas’s exclusion. 

The resurrected Christ appeared to the other 10 disciples who were locked in their room, terrified. 

The resurrected Christ stood among them and said, “peace be with you.” 

The resurrected Christ showed them his hands and his side. 

The resurrected Christ commissioned them to go out into the world to serve, live, and love in Christ’s name. 

The resurrected Christ spoke to them about their power to forgive.

At no point did a disciple interrupt the resurrected Christ to say, “Um, excuse me, but Thomas isn’t here and I feel like he should be a part of this.”

The thought that a disciple would interrupt the resurrected Christ in such a way might sound like an odd idea; but I guarantee if Bartholomew had the guts to say, “Timeout, Lord. Let’s pause and make sure Thomas is a part of this,” we would be celebrating a yearly festival in honor of Bartholomew the patron saint of inclusion. But instead, Thomas is left out; which begs the question, why?

Jesus was dead for three days, which is something I assume can mess with the brain’s wiring, but certainly the resurrected Christ could still count the disciples in the room and realize there was someone missing. Surely the resurrected Christ – being as he was, in perfect union with all of God’s creation – would have known intuitively that Thomas was not there. The most logical explanation is that this was done on purpose.

Christ’s purposeful exclusion of Thomas from his initial welcome back party certainly wasn’t done in order to humiliate him; which is the unfortunate legacy he has born through two thousand years of church history with the whole “Doubting Thomas” moniker. A better reason for Thomas’ exclusion is that sometimes it takes an outsider to correctly observe and critique a group dynamic. 

Since we’re in baseball season, think of it as a baseball team full of talented players who are not playing at their potential. As painful as the process can be, often a mid-season manager switch can make all the difference. The new manager is an outsider who is free to observe the team and offer constructive critique with the expectation that the unidentified or unresolved problems will be exposed and corrected so that the team can thrive.

Of course, it’s up to the team whether or not to acknowledge this new information and respond accordingly; unlike what happens in this example of a similar circumstance:

A constructive critique was something the disciples desperately needed because as the text tells us, even after the visit from the resurrected Jesus in which they saw the wounds and received his commission, they remained locked inside their room presumably still very much afraid.

Picture Thomas returning to the locked room. He whispers the secret password and the door is unlocked for him. His friends are gathered around with strange looks on their faces. They proceed to excitedly tell Thomas of the events that had just transpired. They look at Thomas waiting for him to share their enthusiasm (perhaps secretly wishing to hear Thomas say, “I missed what?!?! You guys are so lucky!”). But instead Thomas says, “I don’t believe you. If Jesus really was just here and said all those things, you wouldn’t still be locked in here and afraid. I don’t believe you because if what you said is true, an experience like that would have radically changed you. All I see are a bunch of frightened and insecure people.”

Thomas was the resurrected Christ’s appointed outsider whose mission was to confront the disciples about their inadequate response to the good news of Christ’s power over death.

I can’t think of a more appropriate or timely image for today’s Christ followers to contemplate. There is so much hand-wringing going on in the Christian Church in the West today about dwindling attendance, budgets, and cultural influence. Or, just as sinful are those congregations who gather primarily to pat themselves on the back about how great they are, while ignoring the lack of justice in their communities. What a gift it is to have an outsider look at the church and say, in the vein of Thomas, “I don’t believe you. If Jesus really was just here and said all those things, you wouldn’t still be locked in here and afraid. I don’t believe you because if what you said is true, an experience like that would have radically changed you. All I see are a bunch of frightened and insecure people.”

Christians in the West have largely abandoned discipleship and cross-bearing in favor of entitlement. Today, like no other time in history, people outside the church feel empowered to point out the hypocrisy of the church that too often fails to live a life of radical discipleship and dependence on the resurrected Christ. The good news of today’s text is that God uses those who have been excluded to point out when the faith and actions of Christ followers are not aligned. 

The resurrected Christ will show up to people within the walls of the church, as he did with the 10 disciples. His message is the same today as it was back then. It is a message of forgiveness, peace, and commissioning. I would also take it a step further and declare that the resurrected Christ also shows up in those outsiders who stand outside the church walls and challenge Christ-followers when their lives fail to reflect the good news. It’s up to us whether we respond like the chimps in the commercial and go on pretending we don’t know the truth; or whether we respond like the disciples who ultimately did heed Jesus’ commission and went out to all the world bearing the good news of forgiveness, grace, and love in Christ to all people.

Amen.